#i’m sorry they are in love guys they just never been in love up until now so they don’t know how to act
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THE BOY IS MINE - ( m.s )
REQUESTED**
summary- after years of friendship, you’ve seen matt date people before, but none of them have been as bad as this new one. you’ve never interfered with any of the girls in the past, but one night she takes it too far and your true feelings come out.
warnings- cursing, unprotected sex (pretend ur on birth control but also wrap it before you tap it), choking, cheating, dom!matt, it’s smut with a plot guys are we surprised (read at ur own fucking discretion PLEASE!)
a/n: thank you @stonermattsgf for the request!! i fucking loved this concept and the song eats down i hope i did u some justice <3 the touch it chris fic will be coming too cuz im fuckin with that song as well (if you weren’t tagged it wouldn’t let me tag you, i’m sorry!!)
@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @sturnioloco @mattinside @l9vesick @sturnsblunt @ev3rgreenxtrees @wh0resstuff @matthewsmocktails @cherrypostsposts @bxbynyah7 @seababehh @sturnsfav @mattsluv @sturniolossss @melanch0lybby @sturniolos-blog @lustfulslxt @sturnioloobssesd @ginswife @amypull @vivianalovesmatt @st4niolos @sturnioloobessed @sturnlova @bigbeefybitch @minhyucks @iheart-zegras @vicsguitarr @melonjollyranche @hearts4matty @vickyzloserz @user8000000 @xoxo4chrisss @unfilteredassmf @mattsbiggesthoe @chrisstopherfilmed @st3rniolo @goldengrapejuice @luv2matt @vsangel-starbies @mikaelabutterfield @mattnchrisworld @bluesturniolo333 @wurlibydominicfike @kp07on @hayleyreadsblog
in no universe did you expect to be pining after one of your best friends.
it had always been strictly platonic between you and matt, aside from a little harmless flirting over the years. you loved him and his brothers so much that you never wanted to mess anything up, or complicate things when the dynamic was already perfect.
but as much as you’re close with each of them, you know you’ve always understood matt on a deeper level. you share the same goals, the same fears, even the same taste in music and movies.
he’s always been the first person to check in, the only one who can read your mood like the back of his hand, the guy who cheers you up and lets you cry on his shoulder when things are shitty.
despite these sweet gestures, you’ve both had your fair share of relationships and flings while being best friends. none of them have ever bothered you before, and you’ve always tried to be respectful and kind to whichever girl he picks.
that is, until now.
matt is sitting across from you on the couch in their living room, slight frown etched on his face. his girlfriend, maya, has her legs sprawled across his lap comfortably, arms linked like she’s claiming him.
her eyes are practically locked on you. you don’t blame her; she’s well aware that you’re not her biggest fan.
all she does is complain about all of the things she doesn’t like about matt. last time she hung out with you guys, she was bitching about the fact that he kissed her in public at a party, as if she was worried he was scaring off other guys.
when he buys her flowers, they’re the wrong ones. if he takes her to dinner, she whines about the food. she’ll even criticize his clothes, demanding that they match and he hides the tattoos. to her, he can’t do anything right, even though he’s incredible just the way he is.
so it drives you absolutely insane watching the way she walks all over matt, all over his brothers, even you. it’s been two months of this agony, and you can’t believe it’s even lasted this long.
you spend nearly every day thinking about how much better you could treat him. every time he touches you, no matter how briefly, your skin burns in desire. it’s selfish to want someone who’s taken, and you’re well aware of that.
but you just love matt, you know him. and he deserves better. maybe it’s you, maybe it’s not. but it’s certainly not maya.
“give it to me, fuckhead.” chris’s voice rips you out of your trance, and you snap your head toward the middle of the U-shaped sofa.
he’s currently fighting nick for the remote, who slaps the side of his arm rather hard. chris lets go, only to pull his brother into a headlock seconds later. nick lets out a yelp of surprise, jamming an elbow into his side to get him to stop.
in all the commotion, you decide to grab the remote for yourself, a wide smile settling across your features as you take it into your palm.
they both notice quickly, groaning in protest as you wave it at them tauntingly.
“too slow! now i get to pick, idiots.” you tease.
“c’mon, i just went to war for that thing.” nick complains, kicking your leg half-heartedly, but you just shake your head.
“snooze you lose.”
you scroll through your options, trying to pay no mind to the way maya is whispering to matt for so long she could be reciting the bible. then your eyes land on a title that makes you pause, chuckling a little to yourself.
“oh no way, they have fucking cocaine bear on here?” chris cackles.
nick looks rather amused himself, raising his eyebrows like he’s intrigued. “i mean, i’m game.”
you glance over at matt, who’s already looking at you with a grin on his face. he mentioned the movie to you a little while ago, and how he just had to see how stupid it was eventually.
“why would we waste our time watching this shit? isn’t it supposed to be awful?” maya chimes from beside him, and your gaze narrows in on her.
“it’ll be funny, you know, ‘cause it’s so bad.” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.
she tilts her head to the side slightly, studying you with disapproving eyes. “yeah, i’m not so sure about trusting your taste. i mean, that god-awful outfit is just one example.”
the air seems to be sucked out of the room as you grip your sweats self-consciously. nobody moves, nobody speaks. you feel the anger flare up in your veins as you look at matt, wondering if he’s going to step in like he should.
but he doesn’t. in fact, he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. so you square your shoulders and turn your focus back to the girl you dislike so much. you’re done with the passive aggressive comments, with all of the bullshit glares and insults.
you’re done letting her bulldoze you. if matt wants to go through that, fine. but he doesn’t have to take everyone down with him by subjecting them to maya’s presence.
“well, you seem to be the only one who has a problem with my taste, so maybe you should just leave.” you say calmly, smiling sarcastically at the end because you can’t help it.
her mouth pops open, and you can hear chris and nick trying to stifle their gasps and chuckles. even the corner of matt’s lips turn up, which makes you wonder.
maya turns to look at her boyfriend, completely astonished. “are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”
he seems conflicted as he briefly looks your direction, clearing his throat to buy some time. you tilt an eyebrow, crossing your arms like you’re just waiting for him to pick his side.
she may have asked the question, but now you’re dying to know the answer.
“maya is right. and, uh, i think you should apologize.” matt fumbles with his words, unable to speak to you directly.
you feel the fury work its way up your face, and you force yourself to blink away the burning sensation of frustrated tears. maya looks far too satisfied, and you want to slap the smirk off of her face.
but you know you can’t lay hands on her, so you decide your words will have to be your knives.
“you know what, i am sorry,” you begin, raising your hands in surrender.
they’re both a bit surprised by this change in direction, so after a brief pause, you continue.
“i’m really sorry that you’re dating a stuck up bitch. i’m sorry that she’s constantly taking advantage of your kindness. i’m sorry that she treats you like shit, that she talks down to you like you’re a child, that she’s never satisfied with the things you do. and i’m especially sorry that you continue to let her, because you can do so much better.”
if maya’s eyeballs could pop out of her skull, you would imagine it would be exactly like how she looks right now. matt is also slack jawed beside her, and you can’t be near him any longer.
so you stand up, turning to leave the boy you love so much without another word.
the fresh night air of spring is a relief once you step out the front door, and you try to let it calm you as you hustle toward your car. you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket as you move, presumably nick and chris.
you hope they’re not angry. it’s bad enough knowing that you’ve royally fucked things up with matt, but you couldn’t bare it if all three of them hated you.
you practically toss yourself into the drivers seat, slamming the door closed with a force that shakes the entire vehicle. you’re peeling out of the driveway before you can even reflect on the consequences of your actions, speeding home as if your life depended on it.
your ringtone continues to erupt as you drive along the backroads, but you force yourself to ignore it for the time being.
only once you throw the car into park in your own driveway do you check the messages, scrolling through the numerous notifications. unsurprisingly most of them are from nick and chris like you presumed, wondering if you’re alright and applauding you for finally standing up to the wicked witch of the west.
for a brief moment, their kind words make you feel better.
but then your eyes catch a contact that you actually don’t expect; matt’s. you stare at your device, throat going completely dry. a missed call and two texts.
matt
i’m coming over
don’t bother saying no, im already on my way
that was five minutes ago, which means he’s not too far behind you. you tear out of your car and across the yard, throwing the door open carelessly.
your heart is still slamming against your ribcage, and fear crawls up your throat as you press your back to the wood, kicking your flip flops off in the general direction of the coat rack.
your mind flashes to the idea of him yelling at you, which you suppose would be somewhat warranted. you’ve seen matt angry on a couple of occasions, and you can’t imagine he has anything kind to say to you right now.
you pace the foyer as you wait for his arrival, picking at the beds of your fingernails anxiously.
and then it happens; the loud knock on the front door, followed by another series of harsh slams.
impatient motherfucker.
you straighten up as your palm wraps around the knob, sucking in a breath before pulling it open to reveal a rather disheveled matt.
he’s breathing heavy, hair messy as if he’s been tugging at it for the entire drive. his earrings glint in the porch light as he stares at you like he’s trying to commit every feature to memory, wetting his lips hungrily.
“matt—”
you barely get his name out before he wraps his ring-clad fingers around your throat, pulling your mouth to his harshly. he molds against you perfectly, his other hand traveling to your hip to hold you flush against his own body.
he just couldn’t help it. he was so desperate on the entire ride over, replaying your outburst on a loop in his mind as he drove further and further away from his girlfriend. there’s been only a few occasions he’s seen you that upset, and your comments had been a necessary slap in the face.
plus, watching you fight for him when he was too much of a bitch to do it himself was a bigger turn-on than he’d like to admit.
all he’s ever wanted is you. and it shouldn’t have taken this long to admit it to himself.
matt guides you backwards, hand still squeezing your neck as he blindly kicks the door shut with one foot. you feel your back bump against the kitchen counter, and you’re trying to register what the hell is going on, but his kiss is so fucking intoxicating that it’s impossible to think clearly.
his tongue slides against yours passionately, and the flavored chapstick you’re wearing is driving him insane. you can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he toys with the elastic waistband of your pants suggestively.
you have no idea if this means it’s officially over with him and maya, but you find that you quite frankly don’t give a shit.
in this moment, he’s yours.
his fingers finally dip into your sweats a few seconds later, traveling down to brush against your clothed heat as he moves his mouth to your jaw sloppily. a breathy moan escapes before you can stop it, involuntarily rutting your hips against his cold rings in search of more friction.
one of your hands goes to grip the hair at the nape of his neck while the other claws at his back, desperately wrapping your knuckle around the cloth of his muscle tee.
“you like that?” matt grumbles against your throat, nipping at the skin as he begins to apply real pressure to your cunt in little circular motions.
your back arches and you tilt your head to the side so you can give him full access, silently hoping he’ll leave a mark behind.
“you’ve been thinking about me touching you like this, haven’t you? wishing i would come fuck you instead of her?” he questions further, moving his head slightly so he’s speaking directly into your ear.
the hand that was choking you slides down so he can grope your chest, his thumb running over one of your hardened nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing. the combined pleasure has you whining in his grasp, a submissive sound that you wish you weren’t making.
you can feel him grinning as he presses his mouth to that sweet spot below your earlobe, his tongue darting out to wet the area.
“you want me just as much.” you manage to find your voice, though your claim is muttered with no conviction.
matt pauses his movements and brings both hands to your waistband again, which makes you whimper as you clench around nothing. his mouth finds yours briefly to swallow the sound, and he bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away.
“you’re not wrong. so are you gonna give me what i want, baby?” he asks as he teases your sweats and panties just a little lower on your hips.
“keep going.” you plead.
you let go of your grip on his body so he can tug both items down to your ankles, helping you step out of their grasp before discarding them a couple feet away.
matt doesn’t immediately stand back up; instead he takes his time, kissing the side of your knees as his hands slide up the outside of your thighs. you feel so exposed, so on-display that you clench your legs together before you can help it.
he immediately pries them apart, shaking his head slightly with a little smirk. “don’t be shy now, you had so much to say earlier.”
his words spur you on, so you spread yourself wider, opting to grip the counter as he reattaches his lips to your inner thighs. matt inches closer and closer to where you really need him, taking his time to nip at the supple flesh that comes before.
he pulls away right when you think he’s finally about to put his mouth on you, letting his hot breath fan across your soaked center. it makes you shiver in anticipation, and you’re getting a little too needy now.
“quit fucking teas—oh shit.”
you throw your head back as his two fingers spread you apart, tongue coming in contact with the middle of your cunt as he laps at the wetness that had pooled there.
he slows his pace slightly after a moment, making sure to pay attention to the whole area, working his way up until his nose bumps against your clit. you spit a curse out, letting one hand go so you can grip his soft hair.
matt continues on, his lips closing around the sensitive bud so he can apply more pressure and suction. your gut flips at the sensation and your grip on his roots tightens as his mouth works.
he grumbles, loving the way you’re pulling at him so desperately. the noise sends vibrations through your core, which only makes the experience more enjoyable.
“fuckkk, matt, feels so good.” you praise dumbly, your words slurring.
the vocal admiration makes his pulse quicken, and at this point he’s straining against his jeans. he just can’t believe he’s got you like this, grinding your cunt against his face as if he’s the best you’ve ever had.
he can tell you’re growing closer just based on the little gasps and moans leaving your mouth, and your legs begin to shake ever so slightly. but he won’t let you finish just yet.
“want to be inside this pretty pussy.” he pulls away to say it, pressing one more wet kiss to the delicate area before he gets up.
you’re craving more, so you decide to take initiative, reaching for his belt and fumbling to undo the buckle. you tear it from the loops and toss it away, moving to his zipper as he reaches behind his head to tug his loose tank off.
his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his tented boxers. he’s quick to kick his shoes off, followed by his jeans right after.
then his hands go to your waist, fingers digging into the smooth flesh.
“up.” he instructs bluntly, helping lift you onto the end of the marbled countertop so he’s standing between your legs.
he lifts your shirt up next, and you help him out by throwing your arms above your head so he can fully remove it. his eyes train downwards, admiring the way your sheer bra hugs your tits. it hardly leaves anything to the imagination, and matt finds it extremely hot that you’ve been wearing it all night without him knowing.
before he can make a move, you surprise him by reaching back confidently to unhook the garment yourself. you let it slip from your shoulders before throwing it to your side, revealing your bare chest to him wordlessly.
he pulls his lip between his teeth as he exhales, gently guiding you downwards so your back is pressed flat against the cool surface. matt looks intimidating standing over you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body.
“you’re so fucking sexy.” he says in awe, leaning down to give you another real kiss, a salty mix of sweat and arousal on his lips.
then he finds his way down to your collarbone, staying there shortly before traveling between the valley of your breasts. without warning, he presses his tongue flat across one nipple, flicking it back and forth.
you push your chest further into his face with a moan, both hands in his hair this time. he moves to the other perky bud, sucking on it as his teeth graze the tissue ever so slightly.
you’re practically writhing underneath him, and you can feel the pit growing in your stomach again. so even though it feels incredible, you yank his head back off of your chest by his hair.
“need you to fuck me.” you mutter, pushing his hair out of his face with both of your hands.
matt nods once, straightening so he can slide his underwear down. his erection finally springs free, pink tip glistening with precum. you watch as he spreads the wetness around, pumping himself in his hand a few times.
he’s bigger than you expected, and your mouth is watering just thinking about how much you want him to be pounding into you already.
“wrap your legs around me princess.” he commands gruffly, and you do just as you’re told, hooking your ankles behind his back.
his dick presses against your heat, and you buck against it to try and feel more. matt is quick to steady your hips roughly, holding you down against the edge of the counter as he teases himself into your entrance.
you both moan, his low and rumbling, yours high-pitched and greedy. you use your thighs to pull him closer, forcing him to drive into you fully so you can feel that pleasurable stretch.
“mmmn—fuck, you’re so tight.” he sighs, giving you another moment before he begins to drag his cock in and out at a steady pace.
you rock with him as best you can, finding the perfect rhythm so that he’s plowing his full length into you, filling the house with the sound of skin slapping skin.
matt lets one hand wrap around your neck again to choke you, tattoos on display as his muscles flex, and the pressure traps your lewd cries in your throat. his other fingers continue to toy with your nipples, which makes you arch off the counter, head rolled back as your eyes screw shut.
“look at you, taking me like such a good girl. just like i knew you would.” he compliments breathlessly.
he starts snapping his hips harder, enjoying the way your tits bounce as you slide slightly against the slick counter. you look so fucking beautiful, mouth partially open, barely able to squeak out a moan.
never in a million years did matt think he’d get the opportunity to fulfill all of his shamefully dirty fantasies about you, but here you are, completely naked and spread out in your own kitchen.
you’re squeezing around him now with every stroke, and he somehow keeps getting deeper, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you jerk.
the familiar feeling of your abs tightening occurs as you get closer to your orgasm, and you swear you’re seeing stars at this point. he’s right there with you, a groaning mess as your fingers reach up to dig into his bicep.
“yes, matt, right there! m’gonna—” you fumble over your words, unable to finish the thought as the satisfaction builds.
he uses the last of his strength to drill into you, moving both hands back to your waist quickly so he can slam you down on his cock a few more times.
“come all over this dick baby, don’t hold back.”
you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your high, releasing all over him as his hot cum spills into you at the same time.
he slows his movements as you look up at him with bleary eyes, enjoying the last moments of being inside you before he pulls out. you feel your mixed arousal dripping out onto the counter, and you don’t even care that you’ll have to clean it up later.
that was completely worth the mess.
your chest continues to heave as you relish in the come down, dropping your thighs from his hips so he’s free to move around.
but matt stays between them, leaning down to capture your mouth with his one final time. it’s brief, but it means more than either of you truly understand.
he’s the one to break it first, pressing his forehead against yours before he speaks. “you’re incredible, you know that?”
you smile weakly, pushing against his chest to put some distance between the two of you. reality is creeping back in, reminding you that this was probably a one time thing.
“help me down?” you ask, and he complies.
matt lifts you a bit as you slide off the countertop, setting you back on real ground a second later. you’re not sure what to say as you stand before him, completely fucked out and terrified of whatever is coming next.
“so, um…i should probably get cleaned up.” you try to sound casual, even though you’re feeling anything but relaxed.
he immediately notices the switch in tone, the way you’re wrapping your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shrink away and hide. he’s also pretty sure he knows where this insecurity is coming from.
his fingers go to grip your chin gently, demanding that you look him in the face. your eyes widen as he brushes his thumb along your swollen bottom lip.
“i’m cutting things off with maya. i just…love you. and i’m sorry it took me so long.” matt finally admits.
it takes a second to click in your brain, but when it does a wide grin spreads across your face. butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you kiss the pad of his finger as he moves it along your mouth.
“i love you too, but i think you knew that already.” you tease playfully.
“yeah, maybe. but i like hearing you say it out loud.”
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#Spotify#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#fanfic
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After the kiss you can't forget about, your past and present with Eddie collide under the glow of the city lights and the glittering stars at the City Beats launch party.
Masterlist Listen to Clumsy Here
What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.
WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar
“Stop being such a baby and just let me look.”
The light in Eddie’s bathroom buzzes with a slight flicker, casting a pallid tint over the worn linoleum and water-stained sink.
“I don’t recall anyone asking for your services here, Florence Nightingale,” Eddie grumbles, perched on the edge of the vanity with a blood-soaked washcloth pressed against his forehead. The knuckles on his right hand are swollen and split, and the scrape along his jaw is already turning colors.
You pour a little iodine on a cotton ball you grabbed from the first-aid kit— the one your dad made you keep in your car for emergencies, though this probably isn’t what he had in mind. “Who else is going to patch you up?” you question, shifting until you’re standing in the space between his spread legs.
With a sigh, he lowers the washcloth and tosses it into the sink. Blood wells up in the gash above his brow, the skin around it swollen and purple. As gently as possible, you dab around the cut with cotton.
“Oww.” He winces and leans away. “That shit stings.”
"Sorry." You push up on your tippy toes, drawing closer, one hand resting on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The scent of his apple shampoo tickles your nose as his hand moves to your hip, anchoring you. You purse your lips and blow gently over his wound to soothe the sting. His chest expands with a sharp intake of breath.
"Better?" you whisper, a flood of butterflies taking flight within you. His fingers press tighter into your skin, your shirt inching upward, eliminating the barrier between his touch and your warmth.
"Yeah." His throat bobs, his gaze roaming your face.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
His grip on you loosens as his eyes fall away.
You pick up one of the butterfly strips, pulling back the adhesive tabs. “You said you weren’t going to do anything. I asked you not to.”
The faucet drips into the cracked tub as you press the strip into place. “It was my choice to end things, Eddie. It didn’t feel…it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”
He grabs your fingers, holding them away. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been running around with him in the first place.”
The anger in his tone has you stepping back until you can feel the towel bar pressing into your shoulders. He stands and faces away from you, shaking his head.
“So what? I’m a slut now?” Your voice is small in the cramped space, bouncing off half-filled bottles of shampoo and shaving cream. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him about losing your virginity to Parker Hayes in the backseat of his mom’s Chevy last weekend. But that’s something you tell your best friend, right? Eddie has certainly never shied away from sharing his sexual exploits with you. Maybe, deep down, you had been hoping for some kind of reaction, but not this.
“No.” His shoulders slump as he turns to face you, the hardness in his stance softening. “I don't think that way,” he explains, his voice growing gentler, “and I'd never think that about you. I want you to date. I want you to have everything. I just want to…” The rest of the sentence dies in his throat as a familiar shadow falls over his eyes, dimming their warmth. “I guess this is what happens when you're friends with a chick,” he chuckles.
“Might have been easier if Gareth had moved down the street instead of me.” You switch gears to match his tone, a familiar move after all this time.
“Yeah, you’re a pain in the ass,” he says, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Speaking of Gareth, I got a thing.” His gaze drops to his wrist, but he’s never worn a watch. “Lock up when you leave, alright?”
You're still standing in his bathroom when the front door clicks closed.
Your hands smooth down the skirt of your long-sleeved mini-dress. Its modest front sits elegantly at your collarbone, but the back—you twist your head to check the mirror behind you—the back dramatically plunges to just above the curve of your ass.
“Wow.” Steve stands stopped in his tracks at the entrance of your walk-in closet, his eyes drinking you in. “You look like a sunset.” He moves behind you, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder as his hand slides over the rose gold sequins covering your dress.
“You’re not too shabby yourself, handsome.” You turn to get the full effect of his designer camel-striped suit with a bright mustard tie. “I always like you in yellow,” you tell him, running a finger down the cool silk.
His smile widens as he grips your hips, spinning you back towards the mirror, wrapping his arms around your middle. “We should do this more often,” he says, holding your gaze in the reflection.
“What?” you ask, crossing your arms over his. “Launch streaming radio services?”
“No, smart ass.” His lips find your temple. “Get dressed up like this and go out. With everyone coming, do you know what it reminds me of?”
“Dare I ask?” You flutter your lashes.
His grip on you tightens in a deliberate firmness that has you tensing. He steals another kiss, pausing for a moment before saying, “Prom.”
“Uck,” you moan, stepping out of his arms and moving to the island to pick up a pair of earrings. “Your parents went to prom? How sad.”
“Come on. Not them.” He shoves his hands in his pants pockets, his gaze tracking your movements. “Everyone else, though. Didn’t you have fun at prom?”
“I don’t remember,” you shrug, attaching the diamond to your lobe.
“Of course not. How stupid of me,” his tone drips sarcasm as he shakes his head, “How could I have forgotten about your Hawkins amnesia.”
The shrill melody of his ringtone sounds from the bedroom, pulling him away before words can escalate. Lately, high school memories seem to invade every conversation, leaving a residue of guilt that clings tighter with each mention. Alone, you face the mirror, taking a steadying breath. He’s under a lot of pressure. This is his night. You plaster a smile on your face, forcing a semblance of calm. You owe him.
With a final glance, you slip on a nude pair of heels and move to the bedroom to let him know you're ready. Steve’s phone is discarded on the bed beside him, where he sits with slumped shoulders and his hands raking through the hair he had just spent time styling.
“Baby?” You keep your voice soft as you sit down next to him, your hand moving to rub circles on his back. “What’s going on?”
He glances up, only now becoming aware of your presence. "It's my parents," he murmurs, his lashes fluttering with rapid blinks as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "They've decided not to come."
“What? But they’re at the hotel.” Your mind races over the possibilities, “Are they okay? Did something happen?”
“Yeah, my dad ran into a client. That’s what happened.” Steve's voice hardens, taking on a bitter edge as he echoes his father's words, “Business is business, Steve. You understand, don’t you, son?”
“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say in a near whisper, covering his hand with yours.
“It’s my fault. I didn’t really want them here, you know? But when I dropped by the hotel this afternoon with the tickets, my dad actually seemed proud of me for once. Fuck. I feel so dumb for getting excited.” He pulls his hand from yours to tug at the messy strands falling over his brow before his eyes find yours again. “Did I ever tell you about my baseball coach in middle school?”
“No,” you shake your head, shifting on the bed to move even closer beside him, offering what comfort you can.
“Coach Patterson.” His eyes fall to his lap. “He tried talking to him once when he dropped me off for a game. He told him that it would mean a lot if he’d stayed and watched me play. But Dad…” Steve's voice falters, “He just looks at me and says, ‘I've got better things to do than watch you lose.’”
“Steve-”
His eyes bore into yours, filling your chest with an ache. “The thing is, we did win, but he still never stayed. He didn’t believe in me. I guess he still doesn’t.”
His phone screen brightens with an incoming call, and he picks it up, silencing it with a push of a button. “I've poured everything I have into this, trying to be perfect, what they—what everyone—expects me to be.” The frustration builds in his voice,“But no matter how hard I try, it'll never be enough. Not for them. And maybe... not for you either.”
You cradle his larger hand between yours, wishing he could see himself through your eyes. “You’ve always been enough.”
“I want to give you everything–”
“Steve, stop. You can’t live for other people. Pursue this because it brings you fulfillment, not for anyone else. Think about everything your dad has given your mom. Do you think it’s made them happy?”
He pulls his hand from yours, a fleeting shadow crossing his features as his gaze drifts to some distant point in the room. “I’d never treat you the way he treats her.”
“That’s right.” Gently, you cup his face, your thumbs brushing lightly against his jaw, coaxing his gaze back to you. “You’re better than him. And if he can’t see that or celebrate your wins, that’s his shortcoming. Tonight is going to go off without a hitch, and Richard is going to thank his lucky stars for having the good sense to have assigned you City Beats.”
Leaning in, you press a soft, deliberate kiss to his lips. “You deserve your success.” His hand rises to cover yours, and your face softens into a smile. “Now, can we go? I need you to dance with me during the slow songs. I’ll even let you pretend we’re at prom.”
The corners of his mouth rise, his chuckle warming the space between you as he leans in, your foreheads touching gently. “What would I do without you, Ace?” The words are gentle as his lips seek out yours. A car horn blares from the street below, breaking the moment. “I think our driver is getting antsy.”
“Well then, handsome,” you say, a gentle determination in your voice as you smooth out an imaginary crease on his jacket. “Let’s go to a party.”
Dozens of spotlights pierce the night, illuminating the iconic Adler Planetarium. Limos and sleek cars roll up, dropping off the who’s who of the city—celebrities, influential politicians, and tech moguls—onto the red carpet-lined stairs. Banners emblazoned with the City Beats logo wave from the art deco building's great dome, set against the dark waters of the lake and the distant city lights.
“Wow,” you breathe as Steve takes your hand and helps you out of the car. The magnitude of the moment takes over. Now it’s your turn to be impressed. “Baby, you did all this!”
Steve’s signature smirk takes over his face, his cheeks tinting with a flush from your compliment. A camera flash pops in your face as you step out onto the red carpet. With a deep breath, you tighten your hold on his hand. The PR team's efforts have paid off. Photogs from all over the city and national publications line the step and repeat. The air is a blend of lake chill and expensive perfumes as you await your turn to be photographed. Steve’s reassuring hand, firm along your ribs, holds you steady as the flashes blind you. His gaze drops to yours, brimming with unmistakable pride, lending you his confidence. A quick squeeze of his hand coaxes a genuine smile as you face the cameras together.
“Not used to being on this side,” you murmur, keeping your teeth on display under the relentless flashes.
He chuckles, drawing you forward. “You're a natural,” he whispers, guiding you to the entrance with a hand at your back.
As you step into the grand foyer, your name being called pierces the hum of conversations. Rihanna waves from across the room, her manicured hand catching the light. She mouths ‘Call me’ before being swept away by her very tall date.
"Was that–" Steve asks, eyes widening.
"I interviewed her last year," you explain, returning her smile with your own as she navigates the crowd.
"Must have made an impression. That was the new point guard for the Chicago Bulls." His eyebrows raise as he watches them disappear into the throng of guests. Leaning in, his breath tickles your ear, “I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore, Dorothy.”
Light laughter bubbles from your throat. “Thanks, Toto,” you quip, threading your arm into the crook of his elbow, letting him lead you along.
Abstract designs mimicking sound waves, musical notes set into star patterns, and cosmic shapes elegantly adorn the solarium. The floor-to-ceiling windows extend the celestial theme, allowing for sweeping views of the night sky.
“From Skyline to Bassline: This is City Beats Streaming Radio.”
The DJ's smooth voice transitions the songs playing through the speakers as they live-stream from a platform beside a wall of digital screens alive with a social media feed and a map showing millions of listeners around the world tuning in.
Steve lets go of your hand as he’s swarmed with department heads buzzing with reports and updates. You stand alone, crossing one hand over another as muted conversation hums under the beat of the music. The waitstaff weaves through the crowd, offering trays of fluted glasses brimming with bubbling champagne, and you gratefully accept a glass. Guests interact with kiosks exploring the different channels offered by City Beats, including specific music genres, news, and talk shows, while others move onto the themed lounges or drift out to the terrace for the small bites and views of the city.
“Harrington.” Richard's booming voice sends Steve’s staff scattering into the crowd. “Everything is looking just splendid, son.” He greets Steve with a firm handshake before his voice drops,“Now, how are those numbers?”
You look away, rolling your eyes out of view as you drain the rest of your glass. He can’t give Steve five minutes of peace.
“According to sales, we are easily beating the first round of projections and are slated to hit our monthly target in the next hour.” Steve’s voice is filled with cool confidence, but his palm is damp when his fingers slip between yours.
“That’s good to hear,” Richard says, the tightness in his expression easing as the redness circling his face begins to fade. He leans closer to Steve, his tone firm, “I don't think I need to remind you that Second City has a lot riding on this, which means you've got a lot riding on this.”
Steve's lips press together in a firm line as he stands a little taller and smooths a hand over his tie. Your teeth clamp down on the inside of your lip, forcing your silence.
A waiter glides to your side, stopping to collect your empty glass. You place your flute on his tray a touch too forcefully. The clink with the other glasses is louder than intended, breaking the moment. Richard straightens, his attention drawn to you for the first time. He steps back, the wheels turning behind his eyes as he tries to place you.
His manufactured grin returns as he claps Steve on the shoulder. “Keep up the excellent work, my boy. This is impressive.” He waves a hand, gesturing around the party, “I don’t know what any of it is, but it’s impressive,” he laughs, expecting you to join him. When you only muster a weak smile, his laughter fades, replaced by a brief, awkward silence.
“I’m glad you brought the little lady with you tonight, Steve. She just gets prettier and prettier,” Richard continues, not missing a beat. “My wife’s around here somewhere, probably telling someone how to do their job,” he chuckles, then signals a waitress for more drinks. “Make sure you say hello. She loves gossiping with the other wives.” Handing you both a fresh glass, he adds, “Now, see to it our boy here doesn't work too hard, okay?” With a final pat on Steve’s shoulder and a wag of his finger in your direction, Richard moves off into the crowd.
Steve exhales quietly, the tension leaving his shoulders, as he gently squeezes your hand.
“I don’t know how you stand him,” you fume, “How many years have I worked here, and the bastard doesn't even recognize me.”
“Trust me, you’re better off not being on his radar,” Steve replies, downing his champagne in one go before passing the empty glass off to a passing waiter. “I’m sure he’s going to be on my ass when I meet with the investors.”
“But it’s such a nice ass,” you grin over the rim of your glass, letting the bubbles tickle your lips.
His eyes gleam as he leans in a little closer, but his response dissolves before it's spoken. Warmth heats the bare skin of your back as someone steps close behind you. Your stomach plummets like a rollercoaster, and goosebumps dot your arms—there's no need to look.
“Eddie,” Steve welcomes him with a handshake that shifts to an embrace. “You made it.”
Since the kiss, Eddie has honored your request, maintaining the distance you needed— a display of restraint that the high school version of him might not have managed. But after your talk with Hopper and the shadow of the looming deadline creeping closer, it was only a matter of time before you had to face him. And the clock has just run out.
“How could I pass this up?” Eddie’s gaze darts around the solarium before landing on you. “Doll.” He leans in, placing a light kiss on your cheek before turning back to Steve. “This is some party. Congratulations, man.”
"Thanks for passing the word down your contact list,” Steve says, his tone sincere. “My head of PR mentioned you've made her job a hell of a lot easier."
“Happy to help,” he shrugs, adjusting the gold cufflinks at his wrists. He’s ignored the last few buttons of his pressed black shirt and worn it open-collar, allowing a glimpse of the fine black-inked lines that grace the skin of his chest.
“Do you own a suit that isn’t black?” You ask, eyeing the slim-fit pinstripe, that's obviously been tailored to fit him like a glove. “Or is that a rental?”
“Ace,” Steve chides.
Eddie laughs, the sound rich and easy. “Gotta match with the sweet old tats, don’t I?” The edge that once sharpened your words now fails to cut. His smile blooms into dimples, and it’s contagious. Despite the crackling of nerves and self-made promises, he disarms you. A line creases Steve’s brow as the moment hangs, and your smirk echoes Eddie’s.
A peel of laughter rises above the blend of music and conversation as the party continues. A harried junior staffer pushes through the crowd, bumping shoulders and muttering apologies as she tries to keep a stray lock of hair from escaping her updo. “Steve, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she keeps her voice low despite her breathlessness. “Ted's already on his fifth bourbon, and he's cornered Harris Blake from Bean City Brews. He's telling that joke about the nun and the circus tent, and I think we are about to lose half of our ad revenue for this quarter."
"Shit," Steve mutters, his fingers raking through his hair. "Okay, let's deal with this." Relief washes over the staffer's face as she quickly turns, leading the way.
Steve pauses, his eyes meeting yours, an apology written on his face. "I’m-”
"It's okay. Go," you reassure with a squeeze of his bicep. His lips lift at the corners before he turns away, disappearing into the crowd as your gaze lingers after him.
The weight of Eddie’s eyes settles on you before you’ve even turned to meet them. “So, is this the part where I chase you around all night until you finally agree to talk to me?” he asks, closing the distance with a step forward.
“Actually, I thought we’d skip that part.” Your eyes dip to your shoes, avoiding his stare. “I want to apologize for what happened. I let my emotions get the better of me. It was unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional?” Surprise lifts brows before his lips press together in a hard line. “Come with me.” His hand closes over yours, pulling you through the solarium without looking back before you can object.
“Eddie-” you start, but he’s already ushering you into the double doors of the sky theater.
He doesn’t stop as he leads you into the darkness, the room illuminated only by the soft rows of small floor lights as the soaring domed ceiling swirls with violet and periwinkle projections of the starry sky. Ignoring the few others milling around, he tugs you into the privacy of the shadows, finally releasing your hand. In the orchid-tinged light, his stare holds a depth that's hard to look away from. “This isn’t business, doll. You mean every–” he swallows, “you’re my closest friend.”
“You don’t even know me anymore, Eddie.” Your head shakes, silently begging him to understand.
His hands move to grip your shoulders. “There are some things that time can’t change.”
“It can’t happen again,” you state in a firm voice, taking a step back and widening the gap between you.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting as a couple meanders past, pointing out Cassiopeia. “Then what do you propose?”
“I’ll finish the articles.”
“And then?”
“And then everything goes back to the way it was. I'm sure we'll cross paths from time to time.” The words emerge on a strained breath, tightness seizing your lungs. “It’s for the best.”
“That’s not good enough,” he counters, the shake of his head cutting through the dim light. “I want you in my life.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can.” He inches closer, blowing out a sigh. “Look, it was my fault. Be my friend. Draw that line, and we won’t cross it. I know you’re still pissed at me, but we can work through it.” His voice falters, the earlier resolve in his eyes melting into a plea. “Aren’t you tired of carrying all this around inside of you?”
His question softens the tension in your chest, suggesting a sliver of peace you hadn't known you were seeking. Maybe the scars etched on your heart for so long have also shielded it from joy. You swallow the lump in your throat, offering an almost imperceptible nod.
“Can you try for me?” he pleads.
“I can’t make you any promises,” you nod again, more sure this time. “But I’ll try.”
His thumb gently traces the side of your face before his arms circle you, pulling you close against him—the scent of vanilla and clove clings to his jacket. Under your cheek, the fabric is cool and smooth, tinged with a hint of tobacco, taking you someplace you thought was lost.
“Don’t mark up my suit with that shit you wear all over your face,” he teases, his hold on you not lessening an inch. “It is a rental.”
There is a tentative hopefulness in your newly minted truce with Eddie. Almost as tangible as the pulse of the bass vibrating through the soles of your shoes. His smile, easy and unguarded, lights up his face as he guides you through the sea of finely dressed attendees with a hand resting on your lower back. Stopping to exchange hellos and handshakes with a group of industry professionals who are eager to discuss his Studio opening. He pushes the topic aside in favor of introducing you. With an effortless charm, he leaves no room for doubt about your credentials as a journalist at Stax and suggests the value an interview with you would bring to their clients.
“What?” His eyebrows lift, amusement playing across his features as he catches the pleased look on your face as you tuck a handful of new business cards into your clutch.
“Are you auditioning to be my new publicist?” you tease, your brain already teeming with the new articles his introduction just made a possibility.
The warmth of his laughter is becoming a welcome sound. “I’ll be anything you want, doll,” he offers, the words punctuated by a flirtatious flash of his dimples.
A snort accompanies the roll of your eyes, even as your stomach flutters.
“I’m proud of you, you know? he adds, a soft earnestness in his tone. “I like showing you off.” The tenderness in his expression doesn't waver as he follows you through the solarium. You find your fiancée chatting with a familiar face. A welcome distraction from all things Eddie.
“Dulcita,” Argyle wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Looking bitchin, as always. That dress is killer.”
Laughing, you nod toward his outfit, “Well, I’m just trying to keep up. You look amazing.”
With an exaggerated flourish, he poses with his thumbs stretching the lapels of his periwinkle floral suit before turning to greet Eddie with a handshake.
Steve's hand finds its way to your hip, drawing you near. "I thought I’d lost you. Where'd you disappear to?"
“Just exploring a bit,” you offer, meeting his look with a smile, but his eyes shift past you toward Eddie.
A pretty blonde waitress weaves through the crowd, her tray of fresh drinks catching Eddie's attention. He flags her down with a tilt of his head and a confident wink. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, plucking a few glasses from her tray to pass around.
“This event is popping off,” Argyle chimes in, taking a glass and nodding toward Steve. “Congrats, dude. I couldn’t have planned this better myself.”
Eddie extends a glass in your direction. “Doll?”
Steve’s shoulders tense as his stare fills the space between you and Eddie, the sides of his mouth dipping. “Have you eaten?” he asks, his hand tightening slightly on your waist.
For a heartbeat, you just look at him, letting the wave of irritation roll past. Your teeth sink into your lip as you decline Eddie’s offer with a shake of your head.
Eddie's face tightens, a flash of restrained agitation crossing his features as he retracts the glass and dismisses the waitress with a polite nod. Argyle, shifts uncomfortably, his lips pursed into an O as his gaze skitters across the room.
Turning fully towards Steve with a soft expression, you aim for lightness. “Argyle’s right, you know. It all looks perfect, Steve,” you say, channeling warmth into your words, “Everyone’s having a great time. All your hard work is really paying off.”
Half of his mouth lifts as his gaze wanders over the crowd. “Guess we’ll see on Monday when the final numbers come in. Richard is already pushing to take City Beats national.”
Your face falls, “But that’s...that’s a massive undertaking. You’d have to restructure everything, wouldn’t you?”
Steve nods, his expression turning heavy. “Yeah, it would mean a major overhaul, not just in marketing but across multiple departments. We'd likely need to set up satellite offices in other cities, which means a lot of travel for me. It’s ultimately up to the investors, though.”
“Not too shabby, Harrington,” Argyle says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “You’re going to be running with the big dogs now.”
The conversation becomes muted as worry knots your stomach. Steve doesn’t seem to realize that his decisions impact more than just his own future. The coming months loom large with late nights and lost weekends. The toll won’t be just the dark circles under his hazel eyes but the shared moments slipping away like water through your fingers. His relentless drive for success and approval is edging him closer to repeating his father's mistakes—becoming distant, hollow, bitter. Pouring himself into work to the point of exhaustion, neglecting those he loves, just as he was once neglected. You can't just watch as he loses himself, not when you see the signs, feel the strain.
“Come on, Ace, smile for me. This is a good thing.” Steve says with a soft tone as his lips find your temple.
“I know that, and I’m so proud of you,” you manage, lifting your cheeks in the look of adorement he hopes to see. “You work so hard. I just worry.”
His hand shifts to cradle your jaw, tipping your chin to meet his gaze. “It will be fine, I promise. I’ll take some time before things really ramp up,” he reassures, the corners of his hopeful eyes crinkling. “Maybe for a honeymoon?”
“Sounds like someone is trying to think of excuses to get out of the actual work,” Nancy’s voice slices through the moment, her arrival almost as commanding as the deep plum of her silk dress that clings and flows in all the right places, complementing her sleek dark hair.
“A national campaign?” Jonathan steps beside Nancy, his narrow tie and vintage-cut suit making him look straight from the 1950s. “You might as well give back the ring now. Sounds like he’s already married to his work,” he leans toward you, cupping his mouth like a secret, earning him a chuckle from the rest of the group.
Ignoring him, Steve directs his attention to Nancy with a self-assured smirk. “Thanks for showing up, Nance. Wouldn’t want you to miss the moment Second City leaves Spectrum behind for the history books."
Her eyes narrow as her arms cross over her slender body, “That’s adorable, Steve, really. But the idea that your little radio project outshines a whole TV network? Please..”
Steve lets out a snort as his hands move to his hips. “Last I checked, Spectrum's sprawling empire was one channel.”
“We're thinking of expanding,” her voice is as smooth as silk as she examines her nails.
“With the tech we’re developing for on-demand music, who’s going to need cable?”
“If you can manage–”
“If I may suggest putting away the rulers,” Argyle’s voice rises above their bickering, “It’s Steve’s party, and I think we’ve had enough dick measuring for the evening.”
“Fine,” Nancy agrees as she holds Steve's stare, matching his smug expression, “I’ll concede. Congratulations on your accomplishments, Steve.”
“Appreciated,” Steve says, with a tip of his chin.
“But let's be clear,” Nancy adds, unable to help herself, “my dick is still bigger.”
Argyle groans as Jonathan's eyes roll skyward. Eddie takes a gulp of champagne, trying to stem his laughter.
“Where’s Robin?” you ask, cutting off whatever retort Steve was planning before it has a chance to leave his mouth, “Didn’t she ride with you guys?”
“She took off at the coat check with Jessie J—something about a twerking tutorial,” Jonathan explains, looking confused as he tucks his hands in his pockets.
Nancy's laugh tinkles with mischief. “Trust me, it's a sight. Robin insists she's better.”
“Well, I’m not missing that,” Eddie says, polishing off his drink, “I’ll catch you all later.” He turns and leaves your group, placing his empty glass on a waiter's tray as he walks past.
As he melts into the crowd, Nancy's gaze shifts to Richard making his way toward your circle. Her smile tightens ever so slightly, “Oh god. Is that Richard Kingsley?” she asks Steve. “I thought he’d have retired by now, off riding a golf cart in Florida.”
“No such luck.” Steve mutters under his breath, “Play nice, please.”
“I’m always nice,” she whispers before she plasters on her grin, “Richard.”
Richard approaches with a practiced smile, extending his hand to Nancy. “Nancy Wheeler, Spectrum’s shining star in the digital domain, or so I’ve been told. They’ve certainly sent us their best tonight. How’s the world of content directing? ”
“Actually, Richard,” Steve quickly corrects, his voice firm yet courteous as he positions himself alongside Nancy, “Vice President of Content Strategy. Nancy’s been leading the charge there for over a year now.”
Richard's smile doesn't falter as he turns to Nancy. "My apologies, Nancy. I’m sure it's a well-deserved promotion.” She offers him a polite smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes as he continues, “Your insights at the conference in New York were…enlightening. It's always good to have industry leaders like yourself in attendance.”
As if on cue, a junior staff photographer weaves through the crowd. Richard snaps his finger at him, seizing the opportunity, "Let's capture this moment, shall we? A picture for the company archives.”
“Better him than me,” Jonathan mutters as the staffer directs the group a few feet away, ensuring the City Beats Logo will frame the background of the photo. Richard positions himself at the center, patting at the shine of his red face with a handkerchief before draping an arm over each of their shoulders.
“That’s depressing,” Jonathan snorts, watching the setup. “Well, I'm off to find a drink that matches my cynicism,” he adds, taking the opportunity to slip away, leaving you alone with Argyle.
“So,” The sweetness of pineapple and weed hit your nose as Argyle leans over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear, “It looks like you and Eddie sorted out your shit, huh?”
“We’re tolerating each other,” you tell him without turning your head.
“I don’t know, man,” he muses, his eyes narrowing, “Tolerance was not the look on your face when you walked in here with him.”
A huff escapes your throat as you whip around to face him. “I’m interviewing him, remember?” you ask, trying to keep defensiveness out of your voice. “I'm just trying to be…pleasant.”
“You can tell yourself whatever you need to,” he adds, concern written across his face. “But from where I’m standing, you look like you’re in way over your head.”
The words die in your throat as Eddie reappears, weaving through the crowd with the grace of someone used to navigating this kind of affair. In one hand, he balances a plate arranged with an assortment of canapes and sushi, each piece a miniature work of art. His deep brown eyes keenly focused on you. “Eat something, doll,” he suggests, handing the plate over to you.
That feeling wells up in your stomach as you purse your lips, trying not to let your mouth stretch too big in front of Argyle, although he probably has picked up on the heat rising to your face. “Thanks,” you say shyly, accepting the plate.
“I’ll snag one,” Argyle reaches toward your plate with two fingers.
Eddie brows lower. “You can get your own, they’re not charging.”
“Sheesh, I know, dude. They're from my restaurant,” Argyle informs him.
“Then you know exactly where to get more,” Eddie counters.
“Did you find Robin?” you ask, changing the subject. “Was she twerking?”
“Yeah, I caught the tail end of it. And I’ll never unsee it,” his genuine laughter fills the space. “I think it’s burned into my retinas.”
“Mrs. Harrington," comes the voice of a junior staffer materializing beside you with such abruptness that the plate nearly slips from your grasp. "They want you in the photo now.”
“Umm, sure,” you say, glancing to where Steve is standing with Nancy, laughing at something she said. Eddie takes the plate from you, his easy smile from earlier erased by the downturn of his lips.
Smoothing down your skirt, you follow the photographer, consciously relaxing the clench of your jaw over how you were addressed. Steve’s eyes sparkle with warmth as he makes space for you between himself and Nancy, Richard positioned at the end. The clear happiness on his face eases your irritation. His hand finds a place on your ribs, pulling you into his side before the photographer directs you where to look.
“Very nice,” Richard comments with a nod after the flash goes off.
“One for your company Christmas card,” Nancy quips, throwing a look in Steve's direction.
Richard, not missing a beat, turns to you both. “Yes, well, it’s always a pleasure, Ms. Wheeler. I hope you enjoy the party,” he says before shifting to Steve. “Ready to give the investors a tour, my boy? They’ve had their share of drinks. Should be just about softened up for you now.”
“I’ll be right with you, Richard.” Steve waves him off, his eyes softening as he looks down at you, “You going to be okay on your own for a while, Ace?”
“Absolutely,” you tell him, rising to your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re going to kill it, handsome.”
The side of his mouth tips up as you use your thumb to wipe away the gloss you left behind. “How did I get so lucky?” he wonders aloud, his gaze locked on yours. Leaning in, he captures your lips with his in a kiss that lingers a beat too long for a public place.
“I'll find you later.” Regret clouds his eyes as he pulls back, slipping on the professional mask he wears far too often. He walks away with Richard in tow.
“I better go find Jonathan,” Nancy tells Argyle and Eddie as you rejoin your friends, “or he’ll end up in a corner talking politics all night, and I made him promise me that he’d dance with me for at least one song.”
“You can sign me up for one too, Wheeler,” Eddie says, popping a piece of sushi in his mouth. “No arm twisting required.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Munson,” she promises, pointing a playful finger at him before turning to leave, her dress swirling behind her.
“You, Eddie Muson, volunteering to dance,” you tease, your expression mockingly shocked. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
“Play your cards right, doll, and I’ll show you up close and personal,” Eddie says, his eyebrows dancing as he offers you a canapé.
“That’s alright, Eddie. I’ve got my regular dance partner right here, right Argyle?” you say, looping your arm through his.
“Yeah... yup,” Argyle murmurs, his attention momentarily snagged by a tall brunette striding past. She sweeps a waterfall of silky hair over her shoulder, pretending not to notice him, but the extra sway added to her hips says otherwise.
“Solo dame una noche con ese culo y te haré mami, querida,” Argyle calls after her, untangling himself from your arm.
“Traitor,” you accuse, watching him go with a shake of your head as he follows after her without a backward glance.
“Ve por ella, amigo,” Eddie encourages with a booming laugh.
Turning back to you, he rocks on his heels, a smirk playing on his lips. “Looks like it’s just you and me, doll.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to look so happy about it,” you chide when his dimples make an appearance, sending the rusted chains around your heart rattling when it jumps under your ribs. Maybe Argyle wasn’t too far off the mark.
A brisk wind cuts across the dark surface of Lake Michigan. The City Beats logo burns bright in yellow neon, its light spilling over the outdoor stage and dancing across the water’s surface in a rotation of colors. Despite the press of bodies, warmth is scarce, with the night air nipping at any exposed skin. Before you can even think of shivering, Eddie drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, the fabric holding the residual warmth of his body. He stands close beside you, seemingly unfazed by the cool temperature, as Maroon 5 concludes their set.
The crowd sways as one, heads bobbing in sync with the rhythm pulsing into the chilly evening. The spice of Eddie's cologne is a veil around you, drawing you closer into his orbit. Glancing his way, you expect his attention to be on the show, eyes tracking each note and chord. Instead, you find the intensity of his gaze fixed on you.
As the song ends with the band offering their thanks, the MC dashes on stage to announce the next performer. With a tip of his chin, Eddie motions for you to follow him. Together, you squeeze through the crowd, walking along the path at the lake's edge until the sea of people begins to thin, their noise fading into a distant murmur until it's just the two of you left, accompanied by the quiet hush of waves lapping against the bank.
He stops, gazing out over the water, city lights dancing in his eyes. “I almost forgot how your face changes when you listen to music. It’s like the lyrics break right through, lighting you up from the inside.”
“My one true love,” you respond with a wistful sigh, giving him a shrug.
“Oh yeah?” He turns toward you, inching a bit closer to reach into the breast pocket of the suit jacket enveloping your shoulders. He pulls out a tightly rolled joint, eyeing you with a raised brow. “What’s with all the ‘Mrs. Harrington’ business?” he asks, placing the joint between his lips and fishing a brass Zippo from his pants pocket. “Did you get married and forget to invite me?”
Your eyes flash skyward as he lights it with a practiced flick and takes a deep drag. “I don’t know...Steve encourages it. I think it’s his way of reminding me he’s waiting for me to set a date.”
He passes you the joint and blows out a lung full of white smoke that swirls into the night air. “You have left the poor sap waiting for a while.”
“I don’t want to talk about my relationship with you, Eddie,” you say, flicking the ash off the burning paper's end before pressing it to your lips and inhaling.
“Why not?” His gaze probes, seeking an opening, a slip, anything. “Friends talk about their relationships, don’t they?”
You can’t help but cough, the potency of the smoke catching you off guard. “You know exactly why not,” you retort, passing the joint back to him. A soft fog settles over your thoughts, smoothing out the evening’s sharpness. “And you? Volunteering to help with the guest list...” You eye him skeptically, “Trying to ease your conscience?”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes another hit, “It was only a couple of texts, doll,” he says, passing the joint back to you, his fingers brushing yours. “Trust me, I sleep just fine at night. What’s between you and me started long before Steve entered the picture.”
"Well, he’s here now," you assert with defiance, your gaze locked with Eddie's as the joint burns down in your fingers.
His fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding your left hand into the streetlamp's glow until the diamond on your finger flashes. "I guess he is. But doll," he steps closer, his eyes holding yours, "so am I."
“Yeah? Let’s wait and see if you stick around this time.” Your skepticism is clear as you bring the joint back to your lips, watching his face fall with your pointed words.
“So this is where the cool kids hang out,” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts into the night, anchoring you back to reality. Eddie takes a step away from you, his hands tugging on the ends of his curls. Hopper’s eyes narrow on the joint between your fingers. “Really think it’s wise to smoke grass at a work function?”
“I promise not to operate any heavy machinery,” you respond in a dry tone, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
The older man’s eyes shoot skyward before he holds out an expectant hand, “Give it here.”
You hand it over, and the burning paper crackles as he takes a practiced drag, “Are you going to introduce me?”
“Sorry. Yeah,” you rub your forehead, “James Hopper, this is my…um, friend, Eddie Munson.” Eddie leans forward, reaching out to shake hands as you quickly explain, “Hopper’s my editor.” The steadiness in your voice doesn’t quite bridge the awkward moment.
Eddie’s brows raise as Hopper’s hand closes over his in a crushing grip. “Hell of a grip,” Eddie comments with a question written across his face.
“A handshake is a good measure of man,” Hopper offers him no other explanation, handing him back the smoking joint before turning to you. “I expect a write-up of the launch on my desk by 10:30 tomorrow for the digital edition. And don’t skimp on the details about the radio service. Downtown is keen on pushing this, so I hope you paid attention.”
“No problem, Hop. I’m on it,” you assure him.
“Now, I’m going home to Joyce. If she gets a whiff of this on me, I’m sending her your way.”
“You’ll be in the clear,” you promise with a soft grin.
Hopper's stern demeanor gives way to something gentler. “Alright,” he says with a nod, “Enjoy your evening, kid.” His eyes dart to Eddie. “But not too much.”
“Jesus, that’s your editor?” Eddie asks once Hopper is out of sight. “The guy missed his calling, he would’ve made a great cop.”
Your laughter accompanies the dismissive shake of your head. “We better go back inside.”
The walk back is steeped in quiet, the night’s emotions a heavy weight that weaves threads of weariness and a dull ache through your limbs. Eddie appears less burdened, wearing an expression of contentment, his hand slipping beneath the fabric of his jacket still resting over your shoulders. The warmth of his palm seeps into the bare skin of your back while his thumb traces soothing circles along your spine. Carried in on a breeze, the earthy spice of late-blooming asters mingle with the vibrant colors of marigolds softened under the glowing canopy of string lights.
As you near the terrace, the murmur of voices grows, and the sparse groups of people along the pathway thicken to a full gathering. The shift from the lake’s tranquility to the party's bright lights and crescendo of conversations is jarring. The solarium overflows with party-goers, their inhibitions loosened by drinks as they flood the dance floor, the music swelling louder and more insistent than before. Despite the sea of people, it takes only moments for Steve’s gaze to lock onto yours across the room as you reenter with Eddie by your side.
Without hesitation, he leaves the conversation he'd been having and moves toward you. The corners of your mouth lift in a greeting that isn’t returned. His forehead creases with a question. The air seems thicker as you slide the jacket off, returning it to Eddie, the tightness in your chest reappearing. Steve's jaw clenches as he reaches you, his arm circling your waist. “I’ll take my fiance back now, Munson.”
Eddie’s smirk sharpens as he hooks his jacket over one shoulder, “Just keeping an eye on her for you, buddy. Couldn’t leave the lady alone with all these musicians wandering around.” He leans closer, his free hand circling his mouth, “They tend to get a little handsy.”
"Thanks, pal," Steve replies, the last word stretched tight as he stands taller. “I’ll take it from here.”
Eddie’s gaze drops to his feet momentarily before his head lifts. Amusement widens his grin, reflecting a confidence that borders on smug. His feet shuffle as he adjusts his posture to match Steve’s. A twist of nerves tightens your stomach as a spark that you know all too well brightens Eddie’s eyes like an echo of the cocky teenager he once was.
“How about that dance you promised me, handsome?” you blurt, cutting Eddie off just as his mouth opens to respond. Stepping between them, you intertwine your fingers with Steve's and tug him toward the dance floor. As if on cue, the music mellows to a slower tempo.
Steve’s stare remains on Eddie as his arms circle your waist. “You know, it’s funny, I never realized what a dick Eddie is.”
Your head turns to see Eddie watching you with hands shoved in his pocket. “You barely spoke to him all night. What led you to that conclusion?”
Robin bops over to meet him, her blue eyes gleaming as she tugs at his arm, trying to coax him into a dance despite his shaking head.
“I don’t know. The guy is just rubbing me the wrong way,” Steve doesn’t hide the irritation in his voice as he turns you so you’re facing away from them.
A burst of protectiveness that has been dormant since high school wells up like a hot spring. The words escape before your better judgment can catch them. “Really. Are you sure it’s not because he’s my friend?”
The mossy green rings of his eyes burn into yours for only a moment before he blows out a soft breath. “Let’s not fight.” His big hand slides down to rest low on your back as he pulls you closer. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone all night,” he says into your ear before his mouth covers yours hotly, leaving you whirling with his quick change. “Where have you been all night, Ace?”
One side of his mouth lifts in a half-smile, but his confident mask slips. Behind his eyes, he’s lost—the familiarity tugs at you. Rising on your toes, you press your lips to his. “I’m right here.”
His expression softens, radiating a comforting warmth as his lips brush your temple. The rhythm of the song wraps around you both like a truce. Burying your cheek into Steve’s shoulder, your gaze follows Eddie as he turns his back and heads for the door.
Steve leans closer to the bathroom mirror, his fingertips shiny with the pomade he's using to piece out the strands of his chestnut hair.
“Don’t forget your glasses,” you remind him, turning away from the open doorway and entering your bedroom.
“Or the tickets,” you toss out, noticing the white envelope on his night table.
“What would I do without you, Ace?” His voice floats from the bathroom, light and teasing.
Settling at the end of your bed, you pick up the novel you started recently, the book's weight familiar in your lap. Seeing Steve so relaxed and happy broadens your smile. He deserves this night out to blow off a little steam. City Beats' launch exceeded every expectation. A success that's finally turned the heads of the old guard at Second City toward the efforts of their youngest executive. Of course, memories are short, and victories are fleeting.
Steve's workload hasn't lessened, and the prospect of taking the platform national is still on the horizon, but you've set aside any misgivings, at least for now. It’s been a week since you surprised him with the Bulls tickets during his birthday dinner at Maple and Ash, Steve’s favorite, surrounded by your closest friends–with one empty chair at the table when Eddie hadn’t shown.
“Sure you don’t want to come? I still have an extra ticket,” He asks, emerging through the pocket doors separating your bedroom from the closet. Securing his Jaeger-Lecoultre watch to his wrist, the scent of Dior Homme follows him.
You glance down at your cozy leggings and cream wrap sweater. “I’ve got big plans tonight, handsome.” You hold up the book against your chest. “Didn’t anyone from your pick-up game want the ticket? Or those guys you play racquetball with?”
“I didn't get a chance to ask until the last minute,” he explains. “Robin called my office about fifty times to harass me about inviting Eddie to the game. It took me all week to get the guy on the phone, and then he turned me down flat.” He shakes his head, walking over to his nightstand to retrieve the tickets.
“I don't think Eddie is much of a sports guy,” you muse, glancing down at your fingers, folding and unfolding a dog-eared page. “He used to say he didn't have time for throwing balls into laundry baskets. He’d go on and on about the unfairness of high school politics.” A quiet laugh escapes your mouth along with the memory. “He could be so dramatic back then.”
When you lift your eyes, Steve's standing frozen in place, the deep line between his brows wiping away his easy demeanor. He's looking at you like he's just found an uninvited stranger in his bed. It’s just a flash before he recovers, his features returning to the affectionate expression he usually carries for you, but it was enough. The parts of yourself you keep hidden loom like an iceberg–he’s just spotted the tip. You draw your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“Yeah?” He pauses, the air between you thickening as a hint of challenge colors his voice. “That’s a little weird considering he got us seats at a Lakers game last time I was in LA.”
The silence stretches just a moment longer. “Guess he’s not the same guy you knew back in Hawkins. But then again, none of us are, right?” He lets the question hover, knowing an answer isn’t coming. “People change,” he shrugs, his gaze intense and probing. “Or maybe we just never really knew them at all.”
He steps closer and leans in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a kiss that punctuates the conversation. His tone, sharp and heavy like a dull knife, cuts deep as he turns to leave. “Enjoy your book.”
“Wait.” You slip off the bed, bridging the gap between you. Your fingers tangle in the material of his shirt, drawing him closer until your lips meet his, adding pressure until his arms circle your waist and he kisses you back. His embrace grows warmer as your tongue slides into his mouth, grazing his before pulling back, making him chase you, and he does. You break away but keep him close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath a warm whisper as his nose runs along your cheek. “Have fun, okay?” you murmur against his lips as his hands slide up and down your back. “Knock back a few. Yell at the Ref. Get Jonathan drunk enough to annoy Nancy.”
He chuckles, a smile lifting his cheeks. “You got it, Ace.” His eyes close as his lips find yours again. “I love you.”
"I love you too, Steve," you whisper, your fingers uncurling from his shirt as you let him go. He takes your hand as you follow him downstairs. He opens the front door to a car waiting at the curb, the driver hoping out to open the backdoor.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” He smiles, picking up his keys from the small table.
The cold air rushes in from outside, and you pull your sweater tighter around your neck. Watching him step through the door, you call out, “Happy Birthday, handsome.”
As you close the door, Steve pauses on the landing with a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You know, now that I think about it, Eddie didn’t stop yapping that entire game. Maybe you’re right after all. The guy just doesn’t like sports.”
You give a noncommittal shrug, your fingers tightening around the edge of the door. "What did you talk about?"
“Can’t remember,” he shakes his head, resuming his descent down the steps. You watch for a moment longer before closing the door and latching the deadbolt.
With a sigh, you turn back to the now quiet house. The soft pad of your fluffy socks muffles your footsteps as you drift through the rooms, dimming the overhead lights to let the warmer glow of lamps bathe the space in a comforting light. You head to the kitchen, grabbing the remote from the counter. At the press of a button, the scratch of a guitar and a gravelly voice fill the silence, as comforting as an old friend.
You mouth the lyrics as you reach for a wine glass from the cupboard. With a practiced motion, you uncork a bottle of red, filling your glass halfway, only to keep going until it's right to the brim. The song shifts as you leave the kitchen, glass in hand, taking a sip, the rich flavors of dark fruit and spice mingling perfectly, soothingly. Sinking into the couch, you tip your head back against the cushion, letting the music and the stillness envelop you. Your eyes close, the lyrics weaving a soothing spell, chasing dark thoughts away.
The peace is predictably short-lived. A buzz jolts you. The phone tucked into your leggings vibrates with an incoming call. You try to ignore it, letting it ring to voicemail, but it buzzes again—this time a text. With a resigned huff, you pull it out and unlock the screen with a click.
Missed Call – Eddie
Eddie: Your neighbors don’t complain when you play music that loud?
You blink down at the screen and then lift your gaze to the room's dark corners.
Eddie: Don’t get freaked out. Just come to the door.
Pushing off the couch, you pad through the house to the front door and open it to the chilly November night. A brisk gust of wind blows down your street, swirling dried red and orange leaves around Eddie's black leather boots, where he stands at the base of your steps, bathed in the soft glow of the sconces flanking your door.
His hands are shoved into the pockets of dark-fitted jeans, a cozy half-zip sweater in deep charcoal hugging his broad chest. He looks up at you from under his long lashes, head slightly cocked to the side. “I tried the bell.” His head turns to the street as a passing car splashes water up from the wet pavement. “What kind of sound system is that? I thought Chris was in there with you for a second.”
Wrapping your arms around your chest, your fingers gently rub the fabric of your sweater as you ignore the surrealness of Eddie casually referring to Chris Cornell by his first name. “What are you doing here? Steve's not home.”
“I know. I thought the guy would never leave. How long does it take him to do his hair, anyway?”
“It’s not funny, Eddie. You can’t come in.” You glance down the street to see your neighbor, leash in hand, appear in the circle of light cast by the streetlamp.
“I don’t want to come in, doll. We’re going out. And we're late, so if you could light a fire under it.” Eddie’s lips press into a hard line as your neighbor passes him on the sidewalk, giving him the once-over, the poodle pausing to sniff his legs.
“Evening, Mr. Davis," you acknowledge with a wave as the man continues down the street, shaking his head. You turn back to Eddie, frustration evident in your tone. "I can't go anywhere. I'm not even dressed.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow, assessing your attire. “Those look like clothes to me.”
Your head tilts to the side, your expression unwavering.
He glances at the sky and lets out a frustrated sigh before his gaze returns to you. “You look beautiful, doll. Now, please. Just grab your coat,” he implores, his hands pressing together in front of him. “ I promise to have you back before you turn into a pumpkin.”
Your eyes lower to where your toes are wiggling in your socks, “Eddie, I–”
“Well, I could always just hang out here,” he muses, scratching at the scruff on his chin. “Might get awkward when the game lets out.”
“You're not serious,” you challenge, skepticism evident in your tone.
“Oh, aren't I?” he asks, cocking a brow as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Friends hang out together, don’t they?”
“Fine,” you fume. “But I better be back in plenty of time.” You catch the way his smile broadens as you turn back into the house to slip on a pair of boots and grab an old woolen peacoat off the hook by the door. Stepping out onto the stone landing of your brownstone, you hesitate, shooting him another look of apprehension before turning to lock the door.
“Christ, woman, was that so difficult?” He throws his hands in the air as he crosses the street to a shiny black Audi Q7 parked at the curb. With a wave of his hand, he opens the passenger door, beckoning you to climb inside.
The bare branches of the trees sway with the wind, casting moving shadows against the shining asphalt painted with the last of the fallen leaves. You walk across the road to where he’s waiting and step into the SUV. You sink into the plush seat, the smell of leather, smoke, and his cologne assaulting your senses. It's the same scent that seemed to linger for days after your last visit to CursedSound, the one your guilt tried to erase.
Your hands worry themselves in your lap, twisting the diamond on your fourth finger while you wait for him to round the vehicle. The agreement about keeping the lines drawn is fresh in your mind as he climbs into the driver's seat.
Without warning, he leans over you, the warmth of his body invading your space, the pout of his full bottom lip hovering inches from yours. The sharp intake of your breath echoes loudly in the vehicle's quiet confines.
“Seatbelt,” he reminds you, his big brown eyes dancing with amusement as he drags the strap across your shoulder and clicks it into position at your hip.
Heat rises up your neck, burning your cheeks as he settles himself in his seat, strapping in before pressing the button that starts the ignition.
“Shit.” His face falls as he glares at the glowing numbers on his dash. He turns the wheel, lurching the Audi onto the roadway. Your neighborhood disappears in a blur as he turns and heads north. “And I thought LA traffic was bad,” he mutters, weaving in and out of stagnant lanes.
The congestion loosens as he turns onto Lakeshore Drive, heading uptown. The moon hangs low, presiding over the rippling waters of Lake Michigan that stretch out into the night. A vast, dark canvas that reflects the tapestry of light from the towering buildings across the roadway rises to pierce the skyline.
Music from Eddie’s phone plays at a low volume through the stereo. It serves to fill the quiet between you, but there’s something in the clash of the electric guitar and smooth bass that's an itch in your brain. Familiar like a half-remembered dream, but somehow still new.
Your eyes steal glances to your left. His profile fades in and out of shadow with the passing headlights. The sharp line of his jaw tightens with a clench when he’s forced to slow his speed. The baby softness he used to carry in high school has given way to solid angles and the perpetual growth of stubble. There’s no denying it– he’s only gotten more attractive.
His head turns suddenly, catching your stare. Your throat clears as you reach for the knob, turning up the volume and letting the song replace anything about to be said. His hand moves from the gear shift to his thigh, his elegant fingers flexing against his jeans. Your eyes stay fixed on the taillights ahead as the song moves into its final refrain.
"Wait." You reach out to punch the back button, restarting the song. "This is you."
His eyebrows lift in surprise, his mouth parting slightly. "How did you—"
"I’m right, aren’t I?" you interject, pointing at the dash, focusing on the distinct chord progression and the sound of fingers sliding over frets.
"Yeah, it's something I’ve been working on for a while,” he admits, looking at you with soft eyes. “Still trying to figure out a part that's missing."
"I didn’t realize you still played," you comment, adjusting the volume again.
“I don’t know why you're surprised,” he says, reaching back to place his hand on your headrest as he smoothly backs the SUV into a space, turning the wheel to align with the curb. “I don't give up on the things I care about.” He shifts into park and turns off the ignition. “Come on.” His hand lands on your knee in a gentle squeeze. “We’re here.”
Exiting the car, you step onto the empty side street. Ambient light filters down from the high windows of the brick buildings lining both sides of the street. A nondescript bus with blackened windows and a few other cars sit parked at the curb. This is exactly the kind of place you'd normally avoid after dark. Sighing, you round the car to where Eddie is waiting. His hand finds its way to the small of your back, guiding you across the street to a lone, unmarked steel door. With a closed fist, he raps out five quick knocks followed by two slower and turns to you with a grin.
“What are we doing here?” you ask, shoving your hands into your coat pockets and looking up and down the street.
“I’m apologizing.” His words are cut off by the scraping sound of locks, followed by the door swinging open. Bright light spills out, casting a silhouette of a very large, bald man holding a clipboard, nearly obscuring the doorway.
“Can I help you?” booms the man’s voice, reverberating off the surrounding brick.
“I’m on the list,” Eddie says, undeterred.
“Name?” the doorman asks, retrieving a pen from behind his ear.
“Munson,” Eddie responds, glancing at the clipboard. “Edward and guest.”
The man sizes up Eddie with a thorough once-over, his gaze flickers towards you briefly before allowing you both to enter.
Following Eddie, you step inside, the brightness of the overhead fluorescents bouncing off the cinder block walls, causing you to squint after the dimly lit street outside. Flight cases and amp stacks clutter the small vestibule of the venue's loading area. The muffled thrum of a bass line vibrates through the walls and high ceilings.
“You’re cutting it close,” the man grunts, his staff shirt stamped with the Riviera Theater’s logo pulling tight across his chest as he hands Eddie two lanyards with plastic tags.
The sweet sound of a cascade of delicate strings drifts through the air from down the hall opposite you, drawing your attention like a moth to a porch light.
“Is that violins?” Turning toward the sound, tiny sparks ignite in your chest as Eddie slips the lanyard over your head.
“You know the way?” The doorman snaps his clipboard, ignoring your question.
“We’ll find it,” Eddie assures him, his fingers closing around your elbow as he tugs you toward the hallway.
The smile stretching your lips is automatic. Tingles of energy zip through your veins as anticipation builds, like being a kid at Christmas. As the stark fluorescents give way to dimmer bulbs, a murkier haze settles around you, mirroring the anticipation building in your chest. Their soft glow catches the shine of the dark curls resting on Eddie's collar as you trail after him down the maze of narrowing corridors.
Passing by closed doors and bulletin boards tacked with production notes and schedules, you step lightly to avoid the cords snaking across your path. The worn wooden floorboards creak with each step like they are responding to the growing clarity of the strings that now reach your ears, no longer muffled but rich and full.
The baseline of Dreams smooths into its final notes, and applause thunders from the audience. Eddie pauses, his hand resting lightly on your back, guiding you to a halt. You step between him and the canopy of curtains gathered at the stage’s edge, the sounds of the crowd's approval dissipating into the cavernous space. The polished instruments rest in the orchestra’s hands, poised for their next cue. Your hand flies to your mouth as the sight of The Cranberries at center stage fully registers. Dolores O’Riordan’s head turns, catching Eddie’s gaze. With an exasperated look, she taps the watch strapped to her wrist. He mouths a “Sorry,” his head tilting slightly towards you. At that moment, her brown eyes connect with yours. A hint of a smile graces her face before she turns back to the audience, her voice resonating in the stillness, "I was saving this one."
The first sigh of the violin expands with your breath, an arrow soaring through the air, piercing the center of your chest. A thrum of a calloused thumb brushing over the strings of an acoustic guitar accompanies the “Ahhs” of her lilting voice. The harmony is echoed by a cello, then a viola, and another violin, each repetition weaving into the next like a ripple of raindrops on calm water until it all fades into a hush, leaving your stomach swooping in its wake.
The silence shatters with the bold strum of the guitar. The air leaves your lungs in unison with the crashing bassline, the full swell of the strings washing over you like an ocean wave.
If you, if you could return
Don't let it burn
Don't let it fade
In the auditorium's darkness, the audience vanishes until only you and he exist. Eddie stands close, his warmth seeping into you as he presses into you with his shoulder. Clove and tobacco mix with the tang of iron and polished wood. The back of his hand grazes the soft skin of your own, but it’s the stage that holds your attention, pulling you in deeper.
Is that the way we stand?
Were you lying all the time?
Was it just a game to you?
The accompanying musicians close their eyes, becoming extensions of their instruments. Dolores tilts her head, her voice clear and strong, pouring from her slight frame. The music rises through the aged floorboards, tremors of notes climbing your legs and bursting within your chest. Stirring emotions so immense it threatens to spill over as tears sting behind your eyes.
Oh, I thought the world of you
I thought nothing could go wrong
Your head turns and you find Eddie has been watching you the entire time. His throat bobs as he swallows, the bright lights reflecting the shine in his eyes, and now it's you who can't look away. The soft expression he wears is tender and novel. The black lines that have always connected you pull taut, tugging at your heart. Lines that you thought were severed by anger and loneliness.
But I was wrong, I was wrong
But somehow, they’ve remained. Tattered and a little frayed but enduring all the same. At his core, he is who he’s always been, and so are you.
Things wouldn't be so confused
And I wouldn't feel so used
But you always really knew
I just want to be with you
Two souls found each other in the darkness, singing the same song. He brought you here for a reason—he's telling you he's sorry without words, reaching for you through the melody in a way you can't ignore—in a way that matters.
And I'm in so deep
You know I'm such a fool for you
Everything falls away, but the music and your shared heartbeats. Memories flicker, like pages of a faded scrapbook caught in the wind—sunlit and shadowed. The heavy musk of aged velvet curtains shifts into the fresh scent of cut grass and summer nights, the cool touch of lakewater, and the honeyed warmth of sunshine lingering on his skin. Hummed lyrics, shared laughter, the comfort of being by his side. You liked the version of yourself reflected in his eyes.
Recollections you locked away come back in a deluge. Past moments, both sweet and sharp, weave together, softening the edges of old wounds. Each verse, each look from him, peels back layers of hurt you’d clung to. The bitter shell around your heart begins to crack, dislodging the shards within. Lighter now, your wounds can start to mend. The remaining scars are reminders, but a warmth begins to unfurl in their place, reluctant and bewildering. It’s not forgiveness yet, but the possibility is closer for him and for yourself.
You got me wrapped around your finger
Notes spiral upwards, threading through the shadow-laden lattice of ropes and rigging until they dissipate into the darkness above. Under the glare of the stage lights, the harmonies that once defined you rekindle, sparking to life. Your fingers find his with intention, intertwining with deliberate grace, palm to palm, sliding, locked together. Warmth spreads through the both of you. It's unexpected the way lyrics unravel you, making room for something new. Your gaze leaves his, returning to the performance, but you lean into Eddie, your head tipping to rest on his shoulder. The breath releases from his chest in a shuddering sigh. And he feels an awful lot like home.
Do you have to let it linger?
Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?
Listen to the acoustic version of Linger here Rest in peace, Delores. Ni bheidh a leitheid ann aris.
Big, huge, giant, hugs and sloppy wet kisses for sticking with me. I know the wait was long. Your encouragement got me through it. Especially Leighanne and Taylor who had to put up with me whining.
All your song suggestions have made this fic so fun to write. Please keep 'em coming.
We are about halfway through, kittens. It's about to get bumpy.
For updates follow @tornupdates
#steve harrington#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#eddie munson smut#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington smut#stranger things fanfic#torn series
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Forgot how much I love Atsuko until I saw him again, spent the next hour scrolling his tag and reading about the nasty lil demon
He's so horrible❤️ really is his father's son
YeYEUEYEEYE honestly same I go through periods of withdrawal and then severe addiction sFYDYTSST he iSSS HE IS a nasty lil demon he’s a gross guy just like his dad and we love him for it
quick n very unchecked so sorry if it’s full of typos I just missed himmmm
tw mom x son incest, jealousy, ko being sweet for once gets him privileges
“Hi, Mrs. Oikawa! Looking good!”
“Yo, your mom is young. And hot.” Someone pipes up too loud, making the guys snicker when Atsuko resorts to chucking an empty beer bottle at his head. He dodges just in time, maybe luckily, because the others don’t know he definitely meant for it to hit. All except probably Eiji, who’s brows arch up in a knowing sort of quirk before he takes another few swigs of the alcohol.
“Gotta help unload, don’t wait up,” he says.
And it can only be the smart ass older guy who mumbles back an amused “Take your time.”
Atsuko doesn’t bother to reply further. He might’ve started a fight when he was a bit younger, instead he just jogs up to pick you up into a twirled hug first thing when you get out of the car.
You laugh brightly, and his mouth aches to meet yours. “Oh, hello,” your soft voice chants almost song like, rubbing your hand along his cheek just quickly before already starting to worm out of his grip. Too soon. “Missed you, Ko. You should have seen some of the rooms Tooru set us up into— they were perfect. I’ve never had such a relaxing time in my life.” Your face is coloured from the sun, a few extra light freckles to be seen on your cheeks when you click open the trunk and sigh at the luggage.
He’s quick to dip down and steal a kiss when you’re distracted, before tossing the bags over his shoulders and picking up the slumped luggage. “I got it.”
“Sure?” Your eyes shine, and he tries his best not to be jealous at the idea that you spent two whole weeks celebrating your anniversary with Tooru. Two weeks where his dad no doubt fucked you in every corner of the fancy suite and every semi-private area of the beach. He is though- extremely. “I leave for a few days to come back to my baby all gentlemanly,” you smile softly when he motions his face at the door.
And he clicks his tongue, before pulling the tip of it between his teeth as he trails behind you to get a good look of your ass in the elegant, but skintight skirt you’re wearing. “I’m wooing you, that’s why,” he nods back, grinning wider when you stare back at him.
+
His hands are on your shoulders as he manipulates you to sit in front of the mirror and look back at the both of you- hanging onto his hand as he stands full, towering height above you. “Atsu,” you start when his one hand moves to your crown, grabbing himself through his boxers while looking at every perfect expression on your face - flushed and needy and distracted, “I just got back, I’m tired. And your dad will be home in an hour, he’s just gone to get groceries- and- agh.”
He doesn’t bother to wait to push his underwear down until his already hard, flushed and heavy cock bobs up between his legs at the sound of your voice. Then his fist wrings around the edge of the head to watch some precum bead at the slit, and he shuffles in to put it up to your face. “Missed you too much. Don't tell me that old geezer tired you out that bad. See what I’ve been dealing with for weeks?” You don’t say anything because you’re too distracted with letting your hand wrap around as he insists, throwing his head back when you let your tongue out to meet his pounding tip. It thumps almost meanly with his heartbeat when your mouth lets him invade into it, slowing to suck around the most sensitive part of him. Ohh- fuck. Oh fuck, mom. Missed my mom’s fucking- taste so much. Your mouth, ‘n your cunt- fuck me.”
It makes his entire face reddish with hot blood, mind so empty, and his eyes blurry when fucking into your mouth with impatient bucks. It just feels so fucking good when you don’t stop him, let out a soft mewl when sucking your cheeks around his thick length on the way up. “I’m in-,” you smack when you come up, smiling up at him and moaning when his fingers pull into your hair and yank you around, “in a good mood today.” Atsuko’s fucking flushed. Where you’re sitting under him without a complaint in the world, taking his balls into your mouth to make him shudder on his legs and stare down at you with mouth agar, he can barely believe it when you slip off your ring to put it on the grond, then blink up at him. “I like it when you miss me like this. It’s sweet.”
Your naked chest rises and falls in tune with his, where you blink big, loving eyes up at him Like you’re seeing only him. There’s no complaints of Tooru to be heard, and you’re kidding up his thigh in a way that will surely haunt him. “Tell me where you want me? Missed you, baby.”
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Finding You🩵
Summary: The group has been split up since the prison feel and you’ve been all alone with Judith until you come across a terrible group of men
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Warning: This story might have some uncomfortable parts for some readers, nothing fully happens just some harassment
•Masterlist•
Things were going good, we had our crops and the community was coming together with the people who came from Woodbury but then….the sickness spread through the prison taking out a lot of people thankfully Daryl was smart to keep me away from anyone with signs and then to top it of the governor came back, he came back and killed Hershel right in front of us which broke out into a full battle field
I lost track of where Daryl was, I ran out of the prison with a quick to go bag finding Judith still in her bed, taking some more food for her and I ran out through the opening in the back of the prison
That’s how I got here, wandering the woods hoping just praying to come across anyone from the prison, Maggie Beth Rick anyone, if I ever found Daryl again I’d be the luckiest person on earth but it’s been what feels like two weeks, along the way I found a house got a blanket and tied it around myself making a makeshift baby holder for Judith so she wasn’t as difficult to carry
I was sat on these train tracks feeding Judith a can of peaches when suddenly I was surrounded by a group of dirty men, I held her close to my body scared of what might happen but I’ll be damned if I won’t fight tooth and nail to protect her
“Well well well, look what we got here, sweet lil thing like ya, might have some fun” this one guy with longer dark hair said as he ran his hand across my cheek but I flinched away
“Don’t touch me” I said trying to find away out of this circle
“You’re with us now darlin ya ain’t going anywhere” the older man said and now I was at the back of the group walking along the tracks just waiting to find a moment to escape
We eventually ventured off the tracks onto a road where we saw a man sitting in the middle of the road and my heart skipped a beat, I ran up ahead of the group careful not to upset Judith
The closer I got the clearer that winged vest became, the one person I needed to find the most and here he was
“Daryl” I said kneeling in front of him, he looked dirty and exhausted and……..broken
But when he looked at me I saw that hope in his eyes like when we first found the prison
“Are ya real?” He asked squeezing my arm
“I’m here D, I’m real”
He pulled me into a tight hug until Judith gave out a little whine
“Ya got lil asskicker?”
“Yeah, I lost track of you during the fight I saw Judith and I had to get out…..I’m sorry”
“Ya got out that’s what matters and ya found me”
“There’s something else I need to tell you”
I was cut off before I got to finish
“He yours? Ya claiming him?” Joe asked as the surrounded us
“Yes he’s mine” I looked back at Daryl and he looked defense and for good reason these people were dangerous
“Okay we’ll stop here for the night” Joe said as people started picking cars to sleep in
“Guess we can take the floor” I said sitting down farther from the others as Daryl tried to make himself comfortable laying on his garbage bag
I looked down at him my heart swelled with so much love and appreciation that I was able to find him again
“What’re ya lookin at” he asked with a slight smile
“I really thought I’d never see you again, thought I’d be alone out here just me and Judith forever and this ba…….but then I saw you again” I still haven’t gotten to tell him the news I found out that I was meant to tell him the day the governor destroyed our home
“What were ya meaning to tell me earlier” he asked as he leaned up on his arm
I sighed looking down at little Judith fast asleep in my arms
“I meant to tell you but then you know……..the governor came………I’m pregnant” he was silent for a long time he just looked down to my stomach where a little bulge was showing, it was early so it was only noticeable if you knew about it
“How’s this happen” he asked his eyebrows furrowing
“Are you mad?” I asked feeling my heart pump harder, I know this isn’t ideal but it’s done now and there’s nothing I can do
“Nah just……scared, for you, I can’t lose ya like Lori”
“Lori had a c-section with Carl, that’s why she died, I’m sure I’ll be fine D”
He motioned for me to lay on his chest, holding me close
“I love ya” he whispered
“I love you too Daryl”
Should I do a part 2?
#twd fanfiction#daryl dixion imagine#twd daryl#daryl dixon#twd x reader#twd fluff#twd rick#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl imagines#daryl fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon series#daryl dixon x y/n#twd#the walking dead series#the walking dead
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Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader
Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance
Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Word Count: 958
Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood
Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??
In Bloom Masterlist
Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️
You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care.
You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died.
Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed.
You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down.
God, everything was so fucked up.
The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult.
He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later.
He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room.
You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone.
If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name.
‘Edward Munson’
‘Now at Peace’
Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now.
“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name.
You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat?
Because you would’ve.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…”
Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position.
At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone.
The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp.
Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight.
He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.”
You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck.
“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”
You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance.
Blood.
You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy.
And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.
#writing challenge#fanfiction#in bloom#angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson#vampire!eddie munson
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it’s so funny to think that loid was going to ask her to be his real wife up until yor got so overwhelmed with embarrassment that she had to roundhouse kick the guy unconscious….
but also does that mean that loid might also have some feelings for yor?? or is he just committing to the bit???
#i’m sorry they are in love guys they just never been in love up until now so they don’t know how to act#u cannot convince me otherwise like what do you meaaaaan loid was going to ask to make her his real wife??? how is that in any way gonna#help the mission huh?#what if i tell you i want them together now#spy x family#loid x yor#loid forger#yor briar#yor forger#ALSO HE SAID THAT BEING WITH YOR HAS BEEN THROWING HIM OFF BALANCE !!!#HE IS LETTING A WOMAN THROW HIM OFF HIS GAME !!! HE LIKES HER IDC IDC
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do you believe me now?
in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)
part two
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it
a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!
“You’re so pretty.”
It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.
“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”
You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.
His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“…I do.”
It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.
“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”
The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.
Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”
Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.
“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”
That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.
“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”
“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”
Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.
“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”
“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.
“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.
“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”
His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.
“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”
A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.
“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”
“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”
He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.
“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”
“Sex?”
You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”
He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.
“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”
“No! Too scary!”
Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.
“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”
“That’s impossible.”
Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.
“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”
The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.
“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”
When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.
“I sleep with my eyes open.”
“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”
You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”
“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”
“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”
“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”
———————————————
Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.
Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.
“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.
“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.
“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“
“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”
Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.
“I did not get all weird.”
“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”
He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”
Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”
And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.
“Now you’re getting brave?”
“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”
The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.
“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.
“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.
“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”
A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.
“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”
“Is that what happened?” he teases.
“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.
Almost.
“Slow down.”
He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.
“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”
His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.
“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.
Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.
“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”
His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.
“Okay.”
A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.
Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”
Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.
“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.
“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”
You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—
“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”
Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”
It works for him.
When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.
Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.
“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.
“You’re sensitive, huh?”
“S—sometimes.”
He hums contemplatively.
“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”
You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.
“About what?”
“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.
The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.
“You.”
“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”
Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.
“Really?”
“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”
You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”
“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”
You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.
His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”
“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.
A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.
“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.
“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.
“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.
“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”
But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.
Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.
“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”
It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.
Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.
“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.
His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”
“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.
“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”
Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.
“Then we both did it right.”
“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”
Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”
The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.
“Because I can’t have you all the time.”
“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”
He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”
“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.
He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.
“You’re shockingly precocious.”
You hum.
“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”
He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”
“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.
He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;
I love you
I love you
I love you.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜
.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.
contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).
author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!
ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.
at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.
last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.
but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.
you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.
a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”
you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”
after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”
“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.
but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.
it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.
“i don’t think this is working.”
six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.
“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”
“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—
“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?
satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.
“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.
satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”
your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”
“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”
you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”
“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”
his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”
your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."
you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"
satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.
he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."
you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"
satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".
and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.
satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.
and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.
the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.
a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.
as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.
toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?
toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig
you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.
satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.
the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.
so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.
“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”
the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.
“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”
nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.
suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry
toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy
yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(
inumaki: chat is this real??
satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.
“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.
satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—
“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”
and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.
a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.
suguru: r u ok?
you: yeah ig
suguru: do u want anything?
satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.
but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.
somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.
the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.
when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”
you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.
satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”
you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.
the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.
after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.
you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.
“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.
“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”
satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”
“no, really, it’s alright.”
“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”
“let’s just go.”
the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.
the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.
after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.
satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.
you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”
satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.
“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?
well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”
what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.
“i— uh, i mean—”
“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”
he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.
ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”
your heart breaks again.
“then why did you—”
“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”
you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.
“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”
“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”
“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”
satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”
“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”
“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”
“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”
“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”
“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.
“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.
“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”
he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”
#osaemu#streamer!gojo#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#satoru gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo drabbles#jjk drabbles
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#oh boy do I love walking in the door and getting yelled at 🙃#we need to get the fuck out of here like yesterday#guess I’m staying up in my room for the rest of the night#and then they wonder why I’m fucking depressed#this is all because I said I’d come to our relatives house for Easter dinner#but I told them I was just gonna come for like 2 hours#and apparently that’s rude and I need to stay longer?#I’m sorry I have work the next day and you guys don’t leave until like 9pm half the time#and they’re going over at 1pm#I thought two hours was a good compromise but apparently not 🙃#the thing that gets me is like instead of just telling me this#I got it screamed at me and told how incredibly rude I am#I didn’t realize stopping at a relative who wanted to see me and making a dish to bring us rude but okay#cool cool cool cool#anyways I’m like super upset because my mom and I have never gotten along and we’ve actually been doing good lately#which has been nice cause I haven’t been getting along with my dad the past few months#and like me and him have always gotten along so it’s kind of hard#he revealed he regretted having me too now and like#both parents have told me that now and it’s fucking hard especially given how I’ve been treated and continue to be treated#so like the fact that me and mom were getting along was… idk it was just#it was nice for once#so idk it makes this hurt a lot more#I’ve been made to feel like I’m a fucking burden my whole life#I was a good kid- I didn’t act out and I did what I was told and got straight As and wasn’t a picky eater#yeah I had a lot of health issues but that was out of my control#and they still treated me like I was such a burden#it’s hard it’s so fucking hard#I just want to feel loved and like I was wanted I don’t know what I ever did wrong#I’m just never going to be enough am I?#my whole life has felt like it’s been me trying to gain their approval and it just feels like they’re stringing me along most of the time
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f**k you.
ellie williams x afab!reader
warnings: hate sex, ellie’s rude as shit in the first half, alcohol use, some name-calling, aggressive kissing, fingering, scissoring, brat taming, spanking, edging/overstim… i think thats it
a/n: kinktober’s here! ik im a few hours late guys im sorry. but hopefully this juicyness makes up for it !! wc 3.4k
Ellie couldn’t stand you.
She found you so incredibly annoying, and yet you shared the same friends. Which was the biggest problem, ever.
She never failed to make sure to let you know what she thought of you.
“Hey, idiot. We’re trying to have a conversation. Shut it for once, yeah?”
And you made sure to let her know that the feeling was mutual.
“Suck my dick, Williams.”
And like clockwork, she’d say something along the lines of “Sorry babe. Not into that.”
Truthfully, the two of you had been doing this for a while. This was nothing new. You’d go at eachother back and forth until one of you gets genuinely pissed off. Rinse. Repeat.
Dina hated it because she loves the two of you; she just can’t handle being in a room with both of you at once. Jesse would find it amusing until you and Ellie wouldn’t shut up during a movie.
It didn’t matter what you said or did. Ellie would either laugh, mock, or straight up disagree with you. Even if you stayed quiet and said nothing at all.
“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
She’d wait for your response, and when you didn’t have one, she’d keep going.
“No seriously. You look like dogshit.”
“Ellie please shut the fuck up.”
It was like she couldn’t ignore you. As if your presence was so incredibly overwhelming, that she just had to react to everything you did. You didn’t get it.
If you met up with the friend group to eat, Ellie somehow “forgot” to get you something. She’d make plans and purposely exclude you. And if you brought it up, she’d tell you to “chill the fuck out, it’s not that serious.”
You hated Ellie. And yet here you were, six feet across from her, sitting on the rug of her living room floor. Dina had insisted on a friendly get-together at Ellie’s, specifically requesting that “you don’t kill eachother.” You told her you’d try, but made no promises.
“Hey, Jesse.” Ellie said. “Could you grab me and Dina another beer?”
“Ellie,” Dina says. “You didn’t even ask if Y/N wanted one.”
“So?” She replies. “She’s a big girl. If she wants another she can get it herself.”
You rolled your eyes. She always did this — talked about you as if you were the dumbest person to ever exist.
“I’m right here, Ellie.” You snap. “I can hear you.”
“I know.” Ellie says. “That’s why I said it.”
“Guys, please.” Dina groans. “Just one night. One good night is all I ask.”
Jesse brings over more bottles. He cracks one open before handing it to you. Ellie stares at you, waiting for Jesse to hand out the rest before speaking.
“It would be easier if I didn’t have to look at her fuckin’ face all night.”
You scoffed. “You know, you’re really cocky for someone who lives in a fucking garage.”
“You’re lucky I even let your ass in this garage.” Ellie mutters. “Probably tracked in a shitton of dirt.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask abruptly.
Dina rubs her temples. “Guys—“
“You that stupid?” She questions. “It means I’m gonna have to sweep once you leave. Don’t want your germs gettin’ on my shit.”
“Fuck this. Nope. Not doing this.” Dina says, getting up from the floor. She whips around to face you and Ellie.
“I have tried to ignore the two of you in hopes of having a good time. I have begged you to get along for once. But clearly, none of it’s fucking working!” She throws her hands up. “I’m done. Seriously — come on, Jesse, we’re leaving.”
Jesse thinks for a moment, then shrugs. He begins walking towards the door with his beer in hand.
“Wait, what?” Ellie asks.
“You guys are gonna sit here and sort this shit out.” She says, throwing on her coat. “Until then, me and Jesse are going somewhere else.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dina—“
“Don’t wanna hear it.” She states as Jesse opens the door for her. “The two of you are smart, figure it out. You can come find us when you’re done.”
“See you,” Is all Jesse says, before pulling the door shut.
You and Ellie look straight ahead.
What the fuck.
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You didn’t know what to do. Dina was obviously pissed, but being left alone with Ellie was the last thing you wanted.
It’s as if she could read your mind.
“Get out.”
You raise your brows. “Excuse me?”
“They left because you don’t know when to shut your mouth,” She says. “And I don’t wanna keep hearing it, so get out.”
Your previous desire to get up and walk out of the door suddenly disappears. You set your drink down.
“No.”
“What?”
“You don’t like me? Great.” You say, kicking your feet back. “I don’t like you either. But I’m not gonna do what you say, when you say it, every single fucking time.”
“Wow.” She takes a sip of beer. “You know, you can be a real bitch sometimes.”
Your eyes flash over to the brunette in less than a second. But she doesn’t budge. Just leans into the couch, legs spread.
“Ellie—“ You begin. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”
She smirks as if you said something funny.
“I’m serious. What the fuck is it?” You repeat, staring intently.
“Are you that dense?” She meets your gaze. “Your attitude. If you couldn’t tell, you have a serious attitude problem. Should really get it checked out.”
It was your turn to laugh. “Like you don’t have an attitude problem.”
“Yeah, but that’s me.”
“Oh,” You nod sarcastically. “Okay. Sure, yeah. Because that makes sense.”
“See? Again with the attitude.”
Silence fills the room as you bite your tongue. The fact that you felt the impulse to respond immediately kind of proved Ellie’s point.
It pissed you off that she was right. You did have a bit of an attitude problem with her. In your defense, she never leaves you alone. You get along just fine with everyone else.
You had given up. You were ready to just go home and tell Dina the truth later. But as you stand up, out of absolutely nowhere, Ellie says:
“It sucks, ‘cause you’re hot. It’s a shame you’ve gotta act like such a fuckin’ brat.”
Were your ears deceiving you? Did Ellie fucking Williams just say that?
You laugh it off and shake your head. “You are truly something else.”
“I’m being serious.” She replies. “You could just sit there and look pretty. Don’t know why you choose to be so damn annoying instead.”
“It would be so nice if you just learned when to shut up, Ellie.”
“You gonna make me?” She says, watching you. You sigh dramatically.
“Didn’t think so.”
The way she was toying with you made your skin run hot. You weren’t sure if she really meant what she said, or if she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Either way, her sweatpants and sports bra combo wasn’t helping; you could feel yourself getting worked up.
“What are you getting at?” You blurt out. “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” She murmurs, looking down then back up again. “Are you?”
You laugh harshly. “What the hell makes you think that?”
“You’re an attention whore,” She answers. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
The way ‘whore’ rolled off of her tongue was so incredibly casual. And yet, you enjoyed the fact that she was saying it to you. Pigs must be flying. There was no way this was happening.
“I’m not a whore,” You stated.
“Oh?” She says coyly. “I didn’t call you a whore, I called you an attention whore. But you were quick to argue, so now I’m curious.”
You shift your weight to one leg. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Ellie.”
“Yeah? Then why are you still here?”
You felt your neck and ears become incredibly hot. Ellie leans forward, pushing herself up from the couch and faces you.
“I’d be flattered if you said it’s ‘cause you like me as a person, but we both know that’s not true.”
Her eyes were dazed and unwavering. It could’ve been the alcohol, but it also could’ve been the fact that your mini skirt had been riding up your thighs all night.
And as for you, you surprisingly weren’t repulsed. In fact, you liked seeing Ellie like this. If you were sober you might have dipped already, but your legs were heavy and your panties started to feel very constrictive.
“I think…” She begins walking closer. “That you want the exact same thing. You just act like you’re too good for it.”
You could feel your inhibition weakening. You drunkenly stare up at her. “You think I’m not?”
“I know you’re not.” She takes another step. You go to step back, but your heel hits the wall.
“I don’t blame Dina for trying, but we both know we’re not gonna make up.” Another step.
“No?” You whisper.
“Mm-mm.” Her nose was almost brushing up against yours, now.
The eye contact was unmatched. Ellie wasn’t budging, and neither were you.
“I fucking hate what you do to me,” You whispered against her lips.
She smirks. “I fucking love it.”
Immediately, her lips are engulfing yours, with so much damn fervor and need. You curled your fingers in her hair, and tugged down hard. You didn’t care if you hurt her — after all, she deserved it.
Ellie smiles into the kiss, pulling you in closer as a small grunt leaves her lips. Her legs cage you in against the wall as she forces her tongue into your mouth.
You hated her. You hated her. You hated her.
So how was it possible for her to make you feel so goddamn good?
Her hands begin grasping at the hem of your clothes with frustration.
“Fuck, baby.” She moans. “Take this shit off.”
You were compliant at this point; you merely slid your hands under your shirt and did what she said. Ellie presses her head against your chin, whispering a few more curses as she looks at your exposed breasts.
“So fucking hot,” She groans, pressing her lips to your neck. You whined out of pleasure as you pulled her hips closer to you.
“This is so embarrassing.” You mumble, shutting your eyes.
“Mm,” Ellie hums. “Seem to be handling it quite well, though.”
The brunette begins trailing her kisses downwards. You jump at the new sensation.
“Ellie—“
“Shh.” She murmurs, teething dangerously close to your nipple. “Gotta focus.”
When she latches on, your head immediately falls back. You’re practically speechless as she sucks and swirls her tongue around the hardened bud.
You wanted her to keep going, but you were worried. If Dina and Jesse caught you like this…
As for Ellie, she is absolutely shameless in the way she’s going in on your tits. It was clear that she had wanted to do this for a very long time — she was just being a complete ass about it.
She pulls away with a hard ‘pop’ before looking up at you with her green eyes. “Come here,” She says, grabbing your waist and pulling you down with her.
You gasp as the two of you land on the couch. Her hand quickly finds the back of your neck as she kisses you again, bucking gently against you. A soft moan escapes your lips as you pull back.
“What if Dina and Je—“
“Y/N,” She whispers, pulling her shirt over her head. “I’m in front of you, and I wanna fuck you. Please just shut up for once. Alright?”
You blush, looking down at her chest. Her nipples were poking out, hard as rocks. “You’re so fucking mean.”
“You’re fucking mean,” She says, smirking. “Depriving me of this for so damn long.”
“Didn’t think you wanted me,” You slur against her lips.
“Yeah, well… you are pretty fuckin’ annoying.” She huffs, as you lean in to kiss her again. As the minutes pass, you find yourself rolling your hips against hers.
“More,” You say quietly.
“Hm?”
“Want more of you, Ellie.” You sighed, nudging your fingertips under her waistband. “Please.”
She grins before sliding her sweatpants and underwear off. “Only because you said please.”
When your fingers drag down against her clit, she’s wet, and you absentmindedly moan. She sneers, staring up at you.
“What?” You ask.
“Nothing, just… that was the sluttiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
You hum against her skin, gently rubbing your thumb against her hood. “I could be sluttier.”
“Oh yeah?” She responds, grazing her teeth against your jaw.
You drag your fingers from her pussy to your lips, gently engulfing them in your mouth. You keep your eyes on her as you suck her juices off, groaning at the sweet taste.
Ellie’s face becomes that of a pornstar. Her eyes are half-lidded, nearly rolling back as she stifles a moan.
“Holy fuck,” She says, biting down on her lip. Her gaze drops to your lower body, and she begins shoving the fabric of your skirt up.
“What are you doing?” You murmur, watching the skirt bunch around your waist.
“Not gonna waste anymore time,” She explains, tugging at your panties. “I fucking need this pussy.”
You help her remove the undergarment, letting it drop onto the floor. Her hands settle on your ass as you gently lift her leg, lining yourself up against her.
“Fuck yes,” She whispers, watching carefully as you gently slot your cunt against hers.
Her cunt was soft, and incredibly slick and sticky. It takes you a moment to get the right angle before you begin to get a rhythm going.
Once you start speeding up, Ellie practically loses it. She’s breathing like she can’t get enough air.
“Fuck yes.” She repeats, bringing her hand down onto your ass with a hard slap. Her eyes are closed as she scrunches her brows in pleasure. “Holy fucking shit.”
“God,” You moan, sloshing your pussy up against hers. “You’re so wet, Ellie.”
The room becomes one filled with wet noises and moaning. Ellie’s hands are grabbing at everything — your ass, your tits, the couch. She’s in euphoria, seeing stars as she tries not to black out.
“Goddamn,” She mutters. “So fucking good, baby. Doing so fucking good.”
You whimper at the praise, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. Ellie had been your worst enemy for months, and here you were, bumping clits with her like a fucking slut.
“Shit—“ She grunts, pushing her head back. “I‘m close, ‘m gonna cum.”
“Already?” You joke. “That’s quick, don’t you think?”
She quickly opens her eyes and looks at you. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” You say slyly, slowing down ever so slightly.
She smacks your ass, hard. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
You slow down even more, grinning proudly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ellie.”
“Y/N, you better fucking finish me off.”
“But… ” You whisper in an innocent tone. “We’re having so much fun, right?”
“I swear to—“ She exhales vexedly before sinking her nails into your hips. “Fuck it.”
She sits up, grabbing you forcefully before pushing you down so you’ve switched places. Ellie props your leg up on her shoulder.
“Wanna be a fucking brat? Hm?” She whispers, bringing herself down on your cunt harshly.
You moan in response, goosebumps beginning to form on your arms. You place your hands on her abs, pushing slightly in an attempt to get her to let up.
“Ellie, ‘s too much.” You mewl, as she ruts her pussy against yours.
“Shut up,” She mumbles. “You can take it.”
She keeps you down as she fucks you, ramming herself against your cunt. The sloshing of your clits sends you into a spiral.
“Oh my god, Ellie,” You murmur. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” She grunts. “You like this?”
You nod, but Ellie places a sharp slap on your boob.
“Answer me.”
“Y-Yeah,” You stammer, trying to grasp reality as the only thing going through your mind is how good her pussy feels on yours.
She uses her hand and grabs your chin, tilting your head up. “You better not fucking cum until I do, you hear me?”
You nod again. “Y-Yes, Ellie.”
The way Ellie scissors is ruthless. She’s concentrated, hair sticking to her forehead as she stares down at you. She watches the way your tits bounce as she fucks herself on you, watching as you beg her to slow down.
Her teeth clench as she nears her orgasm. She looks up at the ceiling before dropping her head back down.
“Fuck, I’m, shit— ‘m getting close.”
“Yeah?” You murmur.
“Uh-huh.” You bring your hand up to her cheek as she maintains her rhythm.
“Wanna cum with you, Ellie. Wanna cum all over your fucking pussy.”
“Fuck,” She says through gritted teeth. “Fuck yes. Keep talking, just like that.”
Ellie knew she wasn’t very far off. But she figured she’d make the most of it, in case this was the last time she got to see you like this.
“So good, Ellie,” You say softly. “Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”
“Yeah?” She exhales.
“Mhm,” You murmur. “Best I’ve ever had.”
Ellie’s eyes roll into the back of her head, her moans becoming choppy. She gently holds your foot as she grinds her hips down faster.
As Ellie becomes wetter, you stiffen and feel your stomach tightening. You were getting really close, and she could feel it.
“Y/N,” She says. “I’m—“
“Me too—“ Is all you can say, before drawling out into a moan. Ellie rides you deep into your high, breathing sporadically as she cums, herself.
For a second, the two of you barely move, merely catching your breaths. But eventually your leg starts cramping, and you slide it off her shoulder.
“Holy fuck.” You whisper. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
“I can.” Ellie says, slowly hopping off of you.
“You’re a liar.”
“How?” She says, leaning against the opposite end of the couch. “It was only a matter of time ‘til I got into your pants.”
“Oh,” You scoff. “So it was easy?”
“It was so easy.” She says, smiling. You look at the floor.
“Shut up.” You grin, reaching over to grab your clothes. You slowly put them back on as she copies you.
“Wanna go find Dina and Jesse now?” She questions, pulling her shirt over her head.
“I thought you said we couldn’t,” You say. “Since we weren’t gonna make up.”
“Mm, ‘cause we didn’t.” She states, cocking her head. “I need about three more rounds of this before we re-visit that topic.”
“Oh, fuck off.” You giggle, tossing your jacket at her. She laughs, putting her hands up to shield herself as it hits her.
“I’m kinda serious though,” She says. “You wanna give me head next time? Or…”
You smooth your hair down. “In your dreams, Williams.”
She looks around, contemplating for a moment. “Does that mean I give you head instead?”
“Ellie please shut up now.”
#ellie williams#ellie tlou2#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams smut#tlou2 fanfic#kinktober 2023#kinktober#kinktober day 1
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Fan Favourite - LN
Summary: Lando’s subscribers always want to know if his girlfriend is going to make an appearance.
Lando is known for streaming thanks to his involvement with Quadrant.
And since he got a girlfriend who has been a frequent feature in his podcast, she’s begun to get requests to appear in them. Even if every time she appears, it’s one of three reasons.
1)She’s managed to injure herself while cooking (or once or twice just walking around the apartment)
2)She’s feeling clingy, which is Lando’s favourite reason
3)She’s confused about something and needs his help figuring it out
Today, unusually, she’s MIA and the subscribers are noticing.
“Where’s y/n? God I wish I knew. Last time I checked she was making pastries but that was a few hours ago. Actually, she’s pretty quiet, I’ll be right back.” Lando frowns since it’s been a few hours and usually she’s never able to contain herself from interrupting the livestream.
The chat fills with comments about how cute they are and how sweet it is that he’s concerned about her after not seeing her for a few hours.
“Y/n?” Lando frowns walking around the apartment, first seeing a pile of different kinds of pastries on the kitchen island before he shifts moving around. “Y/n?!” He’s about to call out again when he finds her in the living room having a nap on the sofa.
Now to a normal person, this seems perfectly innocent. But to Lando, he’s entirely hurt that she’s taking a nap, first of all with out him and second of all, not on top of him.
Rushing back to the stream he knows he has to make sure he ends.
“Sorry guys, but y/n is napping without me and I have to go. I’ll see you guys next time or if you’re coming to the next race weekend, I’ll hopefully see you guys there.” Lando states quickly before ending the stream and running back to the living room where y/n is sitting up rubbing at her eyes. “No. You can’t wake up yet. You’re not allowed to have naps without me being here.”
“I didn’t mean to…I think I ate too many pasties.” Y/n yawns before being dragged down on top of Lando’s warm body. The heat radiating from him soothing her back to a sleepy state almost instantly though she recalls why she didn’t end up going through to talk to him before. “What about your stream?”
“It’s ended. Go back to sleep.”
He shouldn’t really encourage her to nap, because honestly she’d just sleep all the time if given the opportunity. The woman sleeps day and night without any thought into it. She loves sleep and won’t change for anyone.
-
In his next stream y/n is very much awake, and she keeps taking pictures and videos.
“Y/n, stop taking videos.” Lando laughs looking back at her while she grins cheekily.
“But your fans love it.” Y/n grins then getting up and moving to sit on his lap while he smiles at her scooching down in his lap.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Lando comments sarcastically while she grins holding her phone to take a video of both of them. “Here we go.”
“I’m very comfortable, thanks.” Y/n states as she posts the video.
“This is why they all love you, exposing me for them.”
“What am I exposing? That you love your girlfriend? Not sorry for it.” Y/n giggles then flushing when he nuzzles his face into her neck, kissing the skin and biting it a little. “Alright, I’ll stop.”
“Good.”
“The chat wants to know if you can play the game with me sitting here.” Y/n states then snorting a laugh while sends Lando into a fit of laughter. “When he’s not streaming this is usually the position we’re in, BUT it’s on his demand before everyone says it’s so cute that I want to be stuck here watching his game.”
“Hey, I let you play in my place sometimes.”
“Yeah, until Max shouts at us both because I’m doing such a terrible job.” Y/n giggles before she settles back. “Go on, they want to see whether we’re lying or not about you being able to play with me here.”
Y/n practically melts back against Lando, pressed into him. Her eyes are trained on the screen almost having completely forgot that they are on the stream. Lando however is completely amused by her focus on his game, she always gets so invested in his games. Sometimes even mumbles for him to do something or pushes a button on his behalf when she thinks he’s going to do what she sees as the wrong with.
“Lando-baby, baby the-oh.” She gasps when he dies in the game then turning to look at him while he smiles at her . “Baby, you weren’t focusing.”
“I’m sorry.” Lando pouts as he leans forward and kisses her. “Do you want to have a go instead?”
“Can I?”
“Go on.” Lando nods knowing that the subscribers are going mental in the chat over how cute they think the two are. Y/n gets to play for a while before she gets stuck and Lando helps by putting his hands over her own and moving her fingers rather than taking the controller from her, he just plays while she’s still holding it. “You got it, come on.”
Y/n (and Lando) finishes the mission with a cheer.
“Alright, we’re ending the stream before someone goes into cardiac arrest from how adorable we are.” Lando states making Y/n frown in confusion before he points at the chat and she catches sight of a few of the comments.
“Oh wow.”
“You’re a fan favourite.” Lando laughs then hiding his face in her neck and kissing her skin as he moves to stop the stream. “Ok, bye everyone. We’re going to go do something that’s not stream friendly.”
“Lando!”
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando x reader#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando#Norris#lando norris imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4
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Owned | Mob!Lando - part 2
Read part 1 here
Summary: Lando finally gets what he wants. Sure he had to use crooked ways to get it, but all’s fair when one is in love, isn’t it?
Themes: dark!mob!lando, breeding kink, smut, fluff, explicit language
“Did you do it?”
You asked as you were both in bed in your apartment, your head resting on his chest while his hand gently caressed your back. Your fingers mindlessly toyed with the chain around his neck.
Lando had been here with you every single night ever since you’d learned about your ex boyfriend’s tragic accident which happened on the same night you decided to break things off with him.
That night, you two had an argument and it was messy. After that he stepped out for a walk, then unfortunately got hit badly. The days following the accident were rough. You called Lando the morning after, crying as you told him what happened. He told you not to worry and that he was coming to take care of everything.
The moment he got there at your doorstep, everything passed by in a blur. You barely even remember the funeral, the headstone at the cemetery, mourning with your ex’s family. All you remember is Lando was right there.
And now that all of that was over, now that you had taken time to work through your emotions and feelings, and now that you had a taste of normality again, you couldn’t help but ask that question.
Lando sighed, “What makes you say that, baby?”
He had taken every precaution. His guys had even made sure there were no cameras around where the ‘accident’ happened.
“Just wondering,” You murmured. You went to get up, to pull away from him and get out of bed but Lando stopped you by rolling on top of you before you did. The heat of his body, the feeling of his warm skin against yours, suddenly you didn’t want to get out of this bed. Ever.
“You think I would lie to you about something like this? You think I would put you through all this on purpose?” His pretty eyes looked down at you. His soft lips, his messy hair, that chain hanging from his neck slightly brushing against your chest as he hovered above you. “Hmm?”
Of course, Lando knew he could never tell you the truth. It was better this way. He hated lying to you, but this was for your own good. He saw the way guilt immediately filled your eyes at the sound of his question.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “I think I need some more time to process everything.”
As much as he hated the thought of you being engrossed in the thoughts of another man, he nodded, agreeing.
He leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth softly, “The kids miss you.”
You gave him a slight smile then. “I miss them too.” He had told you that he had hired a temporary nanny for them, until you were ready to come back to work. He also said how they didn’t really like the new nanny and asked about your whereabouts each morning and night. “I’ll be back soon.” You promised.
He moved his mouth on top of yours and kissed you passionately, biting your lip before shoving his tongue past your lips and kissing you like he’s famished.
He’d been doing that a lot lately. Whenever he found you too deep in your thoughts, he’d find a way to distract you and make you forget for a while. Most of the time, you both ended up in bed.
Like right now.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. You moaned and whimpered, your bare body squirming under his. Lando's mouth left your lips as he kissed his way down your body, pulling the covers away in the process until he settled in between your legs. His handsome face just inches away from your dripping core.
“I miss having you in my home, you know that?” He whispered before he leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. “I miss seeing your face when I get home from work.”
Your body felt hotter and lighter as a pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. He looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure.
“Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.
You opened your eyes and supported your upper body up, your elbows digging into the mattress. You watched how his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to him. He maintained eye contact as he licked in between your wet folds again, making you whine as he teased you. His touch was deliberately slow, and pleasurably agonising.
“Come home with me.” He whispered before he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud until you came undone, thighs shaking as he kissed his way up your body again, hovering over you.
“I will,” You answered. “Soon.”
“How soon?” He leaned in to kiss you on the lips.
“Maybe in a couple of days.”
“You’re torturing me.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, “Am I?”
“Yes,” He insisted. “I miss you.” He repeated. “When you come back to me, I’m never letting you leave my bed.”
You giggled again, running your fingers through his soft hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. His hand slipped in between your legs with ease, caressing your inner thighs again. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss given how sensitive you were.
You squirmed under him, and Lando smirked through the kiss as he slid his cock easily into you, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. You moaned out loud again as he filled you up entirely.
He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down above your head, whispering as he fucked you slowly, “Gonna put a baby in you.” He gasped, “Then you’ll be mine forever.” He stared into your eyes, lips parted as he fucked you gently.
His lips found yours again, swallowing your moans while he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you squirmed under him.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled breathlessly as he pushed deeper into you. “You’d be safe with me, just us and the kids. Huh, baby?”
“Yes…” You whined.
He bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he pounded into you. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.
“I can see it already,” He whispered, “You, walking around with a baby bump, in your little dresses,” He pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “I can’t wait to spoil you rotten, baby. I’ll worship your body even more than I do now, I’ll buy you anything you wanted, fuck I’ll do anything for you.”
“Oh… Lando, please,” You whimpered.
You tightened around him as you felt him quicken his pace, pounding into you. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore.
His hand toyed with your clit, making you tremble. “Come for me.” He murmured, his voice now deeper. “Take all that cum, it’s all yours, baby. All yours.”
With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls.
You couldn’t hold back anymore, and came with a loud moan.
Lando came right after you. He didn’t pull out, but remained buried inside you. Both of you catching your breaths and hearts racing in sync. You were a whimpering mess as he collapsed on top of you.
“I fucking love you.” He whispered, breathless.
-
Lando left in the early hours of the morning. He hated leaving you, but his kids would need him. He left after giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He murmured against your skin.
On his way home, Lando got his phone out and immediately pulled up the camera footage. These past days, you’d been sleepier than usual so he had ample time to bring his guys in and have them install even more discreet cameras all over your home.
He didn’t see it as invading your privacy. But he had to make sure you were alright at all times, right?
So he watched you as you slept. Warm and safe under your blankets. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered as he watched you shift around until you found a more comfy position. “I’ll take care of you.”
—
He couldn’t have been happier the day you decided to come back to work. Neither could he keep his hands off of you the moment the kids were napping during the day or sleeping at night.
“You’re moving in with me,” He growled into your ear one night, as he fucked you from behind while you were bent over his desk again. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body into him each time he thrust into you. “I don’t want you living in that apartment anymore. You hear me?”
You whined, barely able to hold on to the desk as he pounded into you. “I can’t…” You gasped, “I can’t just move in, I–,”
“Why?” He barked, “Why can’t you?” He leaned over you, his damp, warm chest pressing against your back. “Hmm?”
You turned your head to the side, gasping in pleasure as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I can’t just… ” You desperately tried to get the right words out. “Maybe later, in a year or two if we’re still–,”
“Years?” He growled, fucking you harder. Your body crashed against the desk with each of his thrust, and you moaned at how his cock reached all the right places. “And if we’re still what?”
You whimpered when he bit down on your shoulder before pounding into you harder than before. “Together." You answered. "What if–,”
Lando pulled out, pulled you up from the desk and twisted you around so you faced him. He did it so quickly you barely processed any of it. One moment you were bent over his desk and the next you were facing him with his hand wrapped around your throat.
Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes. You secretly loved this side of him. Unpredictable. Wild. Dark.
“What did you just say to me?” He whispered, his voice surprisingly deeper than you’d ever heard. It made you shiver. “You think there’s even a slight possibility that you won’t end up being mine forever?” He leaned in just enough so his mouth brushed against yours. “You think this is a joke, baby? You think I’m just messing around with you?”
You trembled as he sat you down on the edge of the desk and slid his cock inside you again. The room was dark, the only light came from the dim scones on the wall and the moonlight coming in from the wide windows. Lando looked angry.
He tightened his grip around your throat just enough to make you whimper again as he resumed fucking you. “You’re mine.” He hissed. “There is no if,” He kept fucking into you even as you came, moaning and whimpering as you clenched around his cock, “You will be mine forever.”
You were too far gone, high on the orgasm he’d just given you that you didn’t hear the dark promise dripping from his words as he came inside you.
—
A couple of days later, one night as you put the kids to sleep, you received a phone call from a panicked neighbour of yours. What she said over the phone made you rush to Lando, trying to keep yourself from freaking out.
You found him in his bedroom and you couldn’t help the tears then.
“What’s going on, baby?” He wrapped his arms around you and held you until you were able to speak again. "What happened?"
“My neighbour called and… they’re being evacuated because–,” You took a deep breath, “My building is on fire, it’s… it’s pretty bad.” You sobbed, hugging him tightly. “My apartment, it’s all gone.”
“Hey, hey,” He cupped your face in his large hands and said, “Calm down, I’m here. Okay? I’ll handle this, baby. Don’t you worry.”
You buried your face into his chest, sniffling.
He hugged you tighter, kissing your temple and rubbing your back to comfort you. He hated it, being the reason behind why you were crying. But this was necessary, wasn’t it? You refused to move in with him because you liked your apartment. So he got rid of the apartment. The whole building in fact.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured against your skin as he repeatedly kissed your forehead while you cried on his shoulder. I had to do it. He thought. How else would we live under the same roof?
—
You had no choice but to live with him after that incident. Apparently the authorities couldn’t find what started the fire, and any evidence was probably ash too.
As much as you missed your cosy apartment, living with Lando was like being in a dream.
You’d wake up in his arms, spend time with the kids, have breakfast like a family, then Lando would leave for ‘work’ and you’d kiss him goodbye at the door. You’d spend your entire day with the kids, reading, baking, playing in the yard. Then he’d come home and you’d spend the evening like a family again.
After putting the kids to bed, Lando would always, always drag you straight to bed where you’d fuck until one of you passed out, then resume in the morning and repeat.
Everything was perfect.
And just weeks after moving in with him, you found out you were pregnant. When you broke the news to him, he was almost giddy with excitement.
He refused to leave your side, to the point where he’d try to be home as much as possible and would only ever leave if something desperately needed his attention or intervention.
Many times you’d find him in the kids’ playroom, talking to them about having a newborn baby around. They were all excited.
It had become impossible for him to keep his hands off you, especially once you started showing. “You’re too beautiful to resist.” He’d tell you.
You would often wake up to find him wrapped around you, nuzzling your bump and kissing it. He would find you at random times during the day, and pull you into a room or drag you to his office or your shared bedroom and fuck you until you were both completely spent.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He’d whisper each time.
You noticed he would be extra careful with you. His touch was soft, he would always fuck you nice and slow, always looking at you to confirm he wasn’t hurting you and that you were enjoying it as much as he was.
“You don’t have to be so careful all the time, you know?” You whispered to him one night, your hands running through his hair while he laid his head on your bump, kissing it occasionally. “I’m just pregnant, I’m not made of glass.”
He left a kiss on your bump then lifted his head to look up at you. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” He whispered, “Or the baby.”
You smiled at him, caressing his pretty face. “We’re okay. You worry too much.”
He kissed his way up your body, his hips settling in between your legs again. You giggled as he slid inside you again. It was the third, or fourth, time tonight.
“You never get tired these days, I see.” You whined, back arching off the bed slightly as his mouth latched on to your sensitive nipple while he moved in and out of you in a pace that made you lose your mind. He knew you were extra sensitive these days, and he took full advantage of that.
–
Lando ended up hiring a helper to aid you in taking care of the kids. But the kind lady ended up doing all the work and you’d often find yourself with nothing but free time to do whatever you wanted.
You went to Lando regarding this, and the moment you showed up in his office he pulled you onto his lap and helped you ride him instead.
“This is a serious…” You gasped as he lifted your hips up before bringing you down his cock again, “...problem.”
“Mhm,” He mumbled, lips wrapped around your nipple again. His hands held you by the hips and he slowly thrust up into you. “Is it?”
“Yes,” You argued, placing your hands on his shoulders. You looked down and smiled at your growing bump, before you glared at him, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Told me she was just here to help when in fact you hired her to do my actual work.”
He pulled his mouth away and smirked up at you. “You need rest, baby.” He thrust his hips up slightly harder, deeper each time until you were coming undone all over his cock again. It didn’t take much given how sensitive you were these days. When you both calmed down he said, “Now you have time to do all that you want.”
“I’m gonna get lazy.” You mumbled as you cuddled up to his side, your bump always got in the way but Lando still got as close as he could to you, wrapping his arms securely around you.
“You’re carrying our new baby, you’re allowed to be as lazy as you want.” He kissed you on the nose.
“So what, I’m just gonna be here doing nothing all day? Just read, and bake and make babies for you?”
“That’s not a bad idea.” He chuckled.
"Whatever." You groaned, “I’m too tired to be angry at you.”
He laughed. One of his hands reached out to caress your bump. “Let’s get you in bed.” He murmured against your forehead. “Okay, baby?”
You nodded.
–
By the time he got you cleaned up and in bed, you were already fast asleep. Lando checked on the kids one last time before climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close, he kissed you one more time.
Everything was perfect, just as he intended. There were some secrets he would take to his grave with him, some he would never share with you. Some truths he would never let come out; mainly the accident, and the fire.
But this right here was all that mattered, you and him together.
#lando norris#mob!lando#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 smut#dark!lando
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bittersweet (one-shot)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
summary rafe both loves and hates that you’re his sister’s best friend. he gets to see you all the time, but it’s a constant reminder of what he can’t have… until one night, when his jealousy takes over and he can’t keep himself from you any longer.
» masterlist
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Rafe wonders if you know that he can hear you. It’s just false hope, but maybe you’re trying to make him jealous.
You’re in the bathroom getting ready for tonight’s party with Sarah, your pretty laugh reverberating through him as if he’s right next to you.
But he’s not. He’s never been as close to you as he would like to be.
His bedroom is right next door, where he’s sitting in bed, wasting time scrolling on his phone, eavesdropping.
“You’re lying,” Sarah says.
“I’m dead serious,” you reply. “I’ll read it to you.”
Rafe overhears you reading out a text you got from your ex last night… he loves you, he misses you, he shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.
He remembers seeing you in tears a few weeks ago when you visited his sister. Admittedly, he lingered by Sarah’s closed door, hearing you sniffle through your words about how he had dumped you out of no where.
It made his blood boil knowing someone did that to you. But like always, he pretended like you have no effect on him, later passing you by in the hallway without a single word exchanged.
“Do you think you’ll get back together with him?” Sarah asks after you finish reading the message.
“No way,” you reply. This makes Rafe’s heart feel a little lighter. Until he hears your next words. “I hope that guy I was talking to last weekend shows up tonight.”
Rafe fucking hates hearing you talking about guys you like. His crush on you is too big to not let it rattle him. And tonight, he might have to watch you flirt with someone that’s not him in his own fucking house?
He can’t take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to see you standing by the mirror, your makeup halfway done.
“Do you have to be so loud?” Rafe snaps.
The only way he can talk to you without throwing any flags up is by being a dick. And admittedly, it kind of feels good getting his sexual frustration over you out like this, even though it’s severely misguided.
Sarah only rolls her eyes, having fully resorted to ignoring him at this point, but you smile at him in that way that makes his heart jump.
“Okay, grumpy,” you laugh. You’re in baggy sweats and big t-shirt and still manage to look fucking stunning. “You’re one to talk.”
Rafe knows you’re referring to the many fights of his that you’ve witnessed, both with his family and with people at parties.
He hates that your smile and your teasing make him want you even more.
He scowls at you but before he steps away, his eyes linger on you a little longer than you think they should. Wishful thinking, you tell yourself. You gave up on the fantasy that Rafe will look at you as anything more than his sister’s annoying best friend a long time ago.
“Sorry,” Sarah says, apologizing on behalf of her brother like always.
“Don’t worry about it,” he hears you respond. “I know what he’s like.”
Rafe shuts his door. What he’s like. You don’t fucking know what he’s like at all.
If you knew that you’re his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, you’d realize he’s so fucking grumpy because he doesn’t get to talk to you how he wants to. Or touch you how he wants to.
He’ll have to avoid you at his party tonight. He’s not interested in seeing you flirt with some jackass.
That night, Rafe is halfway into a beer, zoning out of the conversation his friends are having around him.
You’re on the other side of the room, arm linked with Sarah’s. You’ve changed out of your comfortable clothes, wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Man, what he’d do to you if he had the chance.
But he knows he doesn’t. You’ve seen him at his worst. Who in their right mind would want him?
As you chat with Sarah, your eyes drift to Rafe every so often. You can’t help it.
There’s something about his presence that’s so magnetic and dominant. And why is it when he’s wearing his hat backwards like that, your stomach does somersaults?
You need to get your mind off of him. It’s never gonna happen.
Then your eyes land on your ex-boyfriend, who just entered the room.
Rafe watches your face drop and your eyes lose their light. You turn to look at Sarah, whispering something to her, then disappear into the crowd. When he realizes your idiot of an ex just showed up, it takes everything in him not to crush the solo cup he’s holding.
He told himself he’d avoid you. He needs to keep his own promise.
Later in the night, you’re filling up your cup at the keg when you hear a familiar voice behind you.
“Don’t hog it,” he says, a joking tone to his voice. You turn to see your ex standing behind you. You only furrow your brows, in disbelief that he thinks he can speak to you so casually.
You don’t respond and he awkwardly shuffles in place.
“Did you get my text?” he asks.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say. It’s been weeks, but being with him again brings it all back, the way he told you he doesn’t see a future with you anymore. Instead of sorrow, though, you just feel anger.
“Can you just… can you give me five minutes?” he asks.
“Leave me alone,” you tell him. Rafe appears behind your ex, his blue eyes fixed on you. He’s angry like he always is, his jaw clenched.
You figure he’s annoyed that you’re using the keg when he wants to top up his own drink.
“I don’t get why we can’t just-” he continues, but is interrupted.
“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe mutters. Your ex turns around to face him.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.
“This is my house.” Rafe has to duck to talk to him. The image stirs something in you. “Either stop bothering her or get the fuck out.”
Your ex turns to look at you, shaking his head in confusion.
“This your new boyfriend?” he asks, voice thick with envy.
“What? No,” you reply. The way you look almost appalled by the prospect makes Rafe feel like his heart is being wrung out.
You almost laugh. As if Rafe would want you.
Your ex turns to face Rafe again. In the tension of the moment, you feel a lump form in your throat. Anger from what your ex did to you. Embarrassment that he won’t leave you alone. Excitement that Rafe is defending you, followed by a sharp sadness that he’ll never see you the way you see him.
Rafe is about to swing at him. But then he sees the look on your face and his anger dissolves.
“Fuck off,” Rafe says sternly.
Your ex looks at you incredulously. You’re sure he knows Rafe would take him down in a second.
When he walks away, leaving you and Rafe just a foot apart, you flatten your lips as you look up at him.
“Thanks,” you say quietly. You never thought you’d thank him for anything.
Rafe’s eyes soften when he realizes your eyes are wet with the threat of tears. You feel mortified to be crying in front of him, so you leave your drink on the table behind you and brush past him, stalking upstairs to the same bathroom you did your makeup in.
Your hands grip the counter as you look at your reflection. You managed to swallow down your tears, determined to have a good night.
Three knocks thud against the door.
“Someone’s in here!” you say, weak voice echoing through the small room.
“It’s Rafe,” you hear.
Your heart leaps. What the hell could he have to say to you?
You swing open the door to meet his gaze. He’s wearing an expression you haven’t seen before.
Rafe can’t fucking take it anymore. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, boxing you in between his body and the wall. His arms are crossed to keep himself from touching you.
“Why were you with him?” he demands.
“What?” you ask. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. This is Rafe. Mad is his default setting.
“He’s obviously a fucking idiot,” he snaps. “And an asshole.” You’re not sure if this is some cruel display of annoyance, but you don’t have the patience for it.
Still, a part of you is buzzing to be alone with him.
“Why are you giving me shit right now?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. He brings his hand up to yours, pushing it away from your face.
It’s the first time his skin has ever touched yours.
“Why were you with him?” Rafe repeats. He’s so close to you that you can smell him. His aroma is earthy, like a comforting campfire. But nothing about him is warm. Never has been.
“How do you even know…” you mumble in confusion. You realize you have no clue how he knows that the guy he almost fought downstairs was your ex. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”
“I heard you,” he says. “I heard you crying over him. Why were you with someone who said that shit to you?”
Rafe recalls the way you told his sister that your ex called you names during your last fight. It made him sick.
You freeze for a moment. He heard you? Why the hell would he care to listen?
“Well, sorry I was being loud,” you say, still a little bitter about how he talked to you earlier tonight even though you had laughed it off in front of him. “Can you just… give me a break? It’s been a shitty night. I don’t need you judging me on top of it.”
“God, that’s…” Rafe steps back, taking off his hat just to smooth his hair back and put it back on again. “I’m not judging you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
A few heavy, tense seconds pass between you. Rafe is looking down at you, at how pretty you are, at how badly you need to be appreciated.
Then he leans down to press his lips against yours.
You were wrong. Rafe does have warmth to him. He’s nothing but warmth right now. The way his hot mouth captures yours and the way his hands cradle your cheeks fill you with need and happiness and a whirling sensation of unsteadiness.
Is this actually happening?
Rafe’s whole body buzzes when you kiss him back, your hands hooking up around his arms, palms on his shoulder blades. He’s pressed up against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue running over yours.
He wasn’t annoyed. He was jealous. You feel dizzy from the revelation.
Your back is flush against the wall, Rafe’s body curved against yours. He bites on your bottom lip for a second, sending an arousing pinch of pain through you, as if he’s punishing you for making him yearn for you.
The contradiction between your mind and your body is jarring - you thought he was annoyed by you, but he’s kissing you like he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t kiss you before.
Tasting and touching you like this makes Rafe harden, and he perches his hips back, unsure if this is too much for you. When your hands slide down to roughly pull his hips back towards you, he doesn’t need any more signals. You want him just as bad and it makes every inch of his skin burn.
Rafe shifts back, forehead pressed against yours, unable to open his eyes for a second.
“I need…” His voice is hoarse. He can’t do it like this. Not with you against a wall in the bathroom. “Let’s go to my room.”
You nod and follow him, letting him lead you onto his bed.
Your eyelashes overlap as Rafe hovers over you in his dark room, kissing you again. Tucked away from the crowds and music downstairs, all you can hear is the sounds of your lips smacking together and his fast breaths.
You spread your knees apart so he can settle between your legs. Desire consumes you as he grinds his cock against you. The sensation awakens the need you’ve had for him for so long but always told yourself you’re not allowed to feel.
You can’t help but feel a gnawing fear that this is just a meaningless encounter to him. You’re not equipped to deal with being just a piece of ass to Rafe. Sex with him will change everything. It needs to be worth it.
You gently push against his chest and worry floods through Rafe that he did something to make you uncomfortable.
He’s looking down at you in the shadows of his bedroom, his breaths shallow and fast.
“We shouldn’t…” you begin, and he nods quickly, arms straightening to sit up. Shit. He fucked up by kissing you. He’s not worth the risk to you.
But again, you pull him back in, this time with your hands cupped on his shoulders.
“Rafe, wait,” you breathe. “I’m saying… we shouldn’t if you don’t…” You take a beat to gain some courage. “I like you. For real. I’m not doing this if I’m just a hook-up to you.”
Rafe didn’t realize how heavy his heart sat in his chest until he hears you say that. He looks at you with wonder.
“You’re not just a hook-up,” he says, as if it’s obvious to you. “I like you so fucking much. I have for so long.”
“You mean it?” you ask. You realize this man has the power to break your heart.
He kisses you like you’re so damn delicate, like you could break in a second. The way you just said that, the edge and fragility of your voice, makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. You feel it, too. It’s not just him.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I mean it.”
Your lips meet again with even more heat this time. He grinds against you with more pressure than before, his erection hard and big.
The fact that you’re the reason he’s so turned on is unreal.
Rafe’s hands dip under the hemline of your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs. You tilt your hips up off the bed to offer him the space to pull your dress up. He immediately takes the invitation, watching you in awe as the fabric slides over your chest, your shoulders, finally off your body.
His open mouth attaches to the flesh of your breast, kissing and sucking. He pulls the cup of your bra down to close his lips over your nipple. The sensation makes you tremble and moan.
Your pretty sounds are better than anything he has ever heard.
His tongue flicks and wriggles over your nipple, then he moves to your other breast, eager to give all of you the attention you deserve.
“Let me eat you out,” he stammers. “Please.”
“Yes,” you whisper.
For so long. He said that he’s liked you for so long. Your mind is rustling with excitement and disbelief, your thoughts tangling together as you think back to every time he looked at you. Every time he spoke to you.
It’s crazy to think you can now reframe all those memories, knowing what you know now.
Rafe pulls your panties down and wishes his lights weren’t off so he could see you better. But what he does see in the dimness confirms what he always knew - that every part of you is beautiful.
You feel his fingers spread you apart, the cool air pressing against your core. The image makes his stomach numb with infatuation.
“Fuck,” he says, nearly whining. “Fuck… I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could do this.”
“Me, too,” you admit breathlessly. “I never thought you… wanted me.”
“Of course I do,” he half-chuckles. He regrets ever making you feel like you’re not desirable. You’re perfect.
Rafe dips his head. You’re like sugar on his tongue. You gasp when he presses his mouth against your clit. He can’t believe how much arousal is pooling between your legs as he starts to lap at you.
“You’re so wet for me,” he praises, planting a kiss on your cunt. His tongue twists and curls and when it dips inside of you, you feel like you’re on another planet.
He readjusts his hands to spread you even wider, wanting to pamper every fucking inch of you.
You bunch his hat between your fingers and throw it off of him to feel his hair. You dreamed of touching his hair for so damn long. You can’t help but tug at his roots as he gifts you with the best feeling you’ve ever had.
The thick, wet sounds of him slurping fill you with bliss. His mouth is giving you so much damn pleasure, the same mouth that would snap at you and frown at you and make you wonder why he disliked you so much.
It was all an act. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
You felt how big he is when he was grinding against you. You need him to fuck you. Now.
“Rafe,” you moan.
“Hmm?” he says, mouth still closed around your clit, sending a vibration through you.
“Get inside me,” you whisper. “I can’t wait anymore.”
His heart is thrumming with exhilaration. He still can’t believe that you want him.
He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuttons his jeans with such fever that you smile in endearment. He’s moving like you’ll change your mind or come to your senses or something.
He sits over you on his knees, holding his cock at the base. It’s big and curved so fucking perfectly that you start to ache for him even more.
This will change everything and you’re so glad it will.
Rafe slowly drops to rest on his elbow on top of you, his other hand guiding him into your soaked entrance. You shudder in near unison as he pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.
“Damn,” he groans, unrestrained. “You feel so fucking good.”
“What you expected?” you ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone.
“Baby,” he laughs. The nickname makes your body tingle. “Even better.”
He pulls back slowly, then buries into you again, a deep, languid exhale leaving his lips. He ducks to kiss you as he fucks you slowly and lovingly, stretching you out, your chests pressed together.
His pace begins to quicken, the curve of his cock hitting deep inside you so perfectly.
“Can I go harder?” he asks against your mouth.
“As hard as you can,” you request. He shudders as he pulls back and slams into you with all his force. Your body jolts, his bed squeaking.
“Be mine,” he says between thrusts. “I need you to be mine.”
“I am,” you say. “I always was.”
This sends him over the edge. He’s about to cum, but he needs to get you there first.
To your disappointment, he pulls out, but when his mouth is back on you and his fingers are scissoring into you, you lift your feet off the bed and throw your head back.
Your walls start to flutter around him as you cum and he quickly shifts to stuff his cock back into you so you’ll finish around him. He feels his gut tighten and he explodes into you with a string of oh, fuck’s, your pussy squeezing around him in pulses as he spasms through his orgasm.
Rafe loves the way your arms and legs are wrapped around him. He feels so needed by you. It’s like a drug.
He collapses on top of you, holding himself up the best he can so not to crush you.
You’re both sweaty and breathless and smiling. He dips his head to press his warm cheek against yours as you remain wrapped up in each other.
“So was I,” he mutters against your ear.
“What?” you breathe, your legs numb from pleasure.
“I was always yours, too,” he says. He kisses the side of your neck, wishing he could never leave this moment. You let out a sweet laugh, squeezing his big, hard body tighter.
He’s never going to make you doubt if he really likes you ever again. He’s sure of it. He silently vows it as he kisses your neck countless more times.
inspired by this anon! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘
#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#obx smut#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fanfic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and y/n#rafe cameron and reader
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DON’T HURT YOURSELF ✹ luke castellan
( summary ) social media au where your boyfriend became the asshole everyone warned you he’d be and now you’re looking for revenge (& luke is a down bad loser w no game)
( pairings ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite counsellor!reader
DIRECT MESSAGES
sarahdawson: hey girly ik we’re not like close or anything but something happened last night that i need to tell you about
sarahdawson: so i was getting strawberries yesterday and max was there and he was being really weird and like flirty and i’m so sorry i feel like such a horrible person even though i turned him down right away but he tried to kiss me and i hit him and then i went back to my cabin but i had to tell you
sarahdawson: i’m so sorry
yourusername: THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE I KNEW HE WASNT WORTH SHIT
yourusername: this is clarisse btw i took her phone
yourusername: (me again) thank you for telling me sarah it rlly means a lot 🫶
sarahdawson: if it makes any difference you’re way too hot for him and literally anything you need (even rigging archery lessons so the new kids take shots just as he’s walking by), i’m your girl x
♫ Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyoncé feat. Jack White
♡ liked by silenabeauregard , connorstroll , and others
yourusername love god herself (love u mama) 💋
sarahdawson AHHH YOURE SO PRETTY
yourusername THANK YOU GORGEOUS 🥹🥹
clarisselarue too good for anyone 😮💨
silenabeauregard prettiest girl everrrr
chrisrodriguez pur girlie
yourusername what.
chrisrodriguez gods forbid a man expresses an ounce of girlish whimsy
yourusername nooo queen i appreciate you thank you
seaweedbrain you ate ‼️‼️‼️
seaweedbrain ate my dessert*
seaweedbrain it’s all fun and games until you end up stealing from the youth
seaweedbrain count your days miss counsellor
yourusername my girl sally should’ve kept you on a leash for a bit longer because you are rabid my love
seaweedbrain I WAS NEVER ON A LEASH WTF
racheledare STUNNA GIRL STUNNA GIRL I CHOOSE U BABY OVER A HUNDRED GIRLS
yourusername ME AND U 4EVERR 🙏🙏
lukecastellan nice dress!!
this comment was deleted.
clarisselarue lukecastellan i saw that.
lukecastellan why are you so ominous
clarisselarue why are you such a loser
lukecastellan have you ever been chill for a day in your life
clarisselarue have you ever known the loving touch of a woman
chrisrodriguez FOUL 😭😭😭
♫ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter
♡ liked by drewtanaka , pipermclean , and others
[ tagged: yourusername , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean ]
sarahdawson girls night w my favs 💘
silenabeauregard APOLLO CABIN 🔛🔝
yourusername FORREALLL
yourusername best night i’ve had in a long time i love u all sm ☹️🫶 ( liked by sarahdawson , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean )
silenabeauregard MY GIRLSSSSS
wisegirll prettiest girls in the world 💕💕
clarisselarue sarah girl love ya but maybe leave the singing to ur siblings 🙏
sarahdawson RUDE
yourusername sarahdawson dw baby i loved our duet xx
sarahdawson we simply are destiny’s child
drewtanaka yk who is shaking in his boots
seaweedbrain oh yeah cool i didn’t even want an invite it’s totally chill
yourusername calm down lil guy maybe when you’re older
clarisselarue if zeus doesn’t smite his ass before he gets the chance 😭
seaweedbrain clarisselarue I BEAT YOUR DADS ASS HES LITERALLY A DEADBEAT DADDY
wisegirll too far
seaweedbrain sorry clarisse
lukecastellan yourusername we could hear you singing all the way in hermes ☠️
yourusername NO THATS SO EMBARRASSING WHICH SONG
lukecastellan i think it was never lose me or smth
clarisselarue bros acting like he hasn’t been thinking ab it nonstop
yourusername lukecastellan i’m so sorry for any pain i’ve caused
chrisrodriguez AYY BRO MAKING MOVES
groverunderwood you call those moves? 😭
chrisrodriguez baby steps are still steps let me celebrate my guy in peace 😔
♫ Heartless by The Weeknd
♡ liked by connorstroll , and others
maxwalsh never been better
clarisselarue oh that’s not ☠️
lukecastellan this what you’ve been doing instead of coming to sparring?
maxwalsh it’s a better challenge
drewtanaka THE CLAWS ARE OUT MEOW
yourusername just posted to their story!
DIRECT MESSAGES
lukecastellan: you look really pretty
#luke castellan x aphrodite!reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#percy jackson x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#camp half blood x reader
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dilf!toji giving you a ride back to the party
a small follow up from this !
|
there has been times where you fantasize about hot older men with your friends. all of you agree that they are just better at everything.
you remember this one time when you had a crush on the first older guy you had found attractive. he was your dad’s closest friend. you had always loved admiring him from afar, undressing him with your eyes, imagining how he’d look as he fucks you in your bed. sadly, he’s married. which means, you can’t do anything about it.
one of your friends encouraged you to break it up though, steal him away from his wife in which you reply with a disgusting look on your face. because never in a million years you would stoop that low.
no guys ever came close as your dad’s best friend after that. dismissing every single college guys who tried to get into your pants, tossing every written numbers on a paper from them into a trash can. your ex was the only exception though. why? because he was two years older than you. that counts for something, right?
until now.
you sit rather quiet nervously in the passenger’s seat. fingers drumming slightly against your thick thighs, stealing glances every now and then at the handsome stranger who offered you a ride before,
and boy, does he look so hot doing it.
he leans comfortably against the seat with one hand on the wheel while the other perched on his thigh. looking like a perfect dream
dear god, please do not make me wet tonight
“thank you for the food, sir. i love it” you give him a smile, shoving another fry into your mouth. “i’m starving”
toji cranes his neck to look at you, mirroring your smile. “i thought i told you to call me toji?”
“oh yeah! sorry, i forgot!” you let out a nervous giggle, finger toying with the skirt of your dress. discreetly pulling it down further since it keeps riding up,
“i didn’t catch your name though. mind telling me?” he starts, putting his focus back on the road while taking a turn,
“i’m y/n” you respond to the beautiful dark haired man,
“pretty name for a pretty girl” he compliments, grinning widely at you. chuckling after seeing you blush. “still in college?”
you nod. “mhmm!”
“you like it?”
“pft! as if!” you roll your eyes, making him laugh at your comment. “college is insanity. too much work, but the parties help”
“i bet” he replies, head shaking. “is it like a regular thing?”
“kind of. we always do it once a week, or twice…? can’t exactly count. the frats usually the one who held it, so I can’t really tell” you shrug your shoulders, eyes looking over to the window. “what about you, sir-toji?”
he snorts, running his fingers over his hair and you almost let out a soft gasp.“oh I don’t party, sweetheart. i’m too old for that.”
“can’t be that old” you giggle, reaching out to poke his side with a finger. you don’t know where that confidence comes from, could be from alcohol,
toji raises an eyebrow at the sudden touch, but makes no comment. “i’m pushing 40, so definitely old” he smirks at you,
40..?
oh…
a look of surprise is taking over your face. “really?” you see him nod again in confirmation. “you don’t look like you’re that old”
“how old did you think i am?”
“hmm, 27?”
he barks a laugh, and you never heard something so pretty. “now you’re just being polite, sweetheart”
god, he really is making you swoon with all the terms of endearment . you wonder if he’s married or taken,
“are you single?”
he’s taken aback at the question, eyebrow raising. “why, want to take me out on a date?”
giggling, you toss a hair behind your shoulder before shrugging it. shifting your body to completely facing him now. “maybeee”
toji only laughs at your confidence. the small pouty look you’re giving just makes him want to give you a peck on the lips. maybe two.
you’re so damn cute, he’d give you that.
“yes, i am. divorced about two years ago.”
“oh… what happened? if you don’t mind me asking.”
he shrugs like it’s nothing. “didn’t work out. the whole marriage was draining me. but i got a little boy who i love dearly and would tear down the whole fucking sky for”
he’s got a kid?! holyshit,
“how old is he?”
“just turned two last month” he smiles at the thought of his little megumi sleeping soundly back home. “how about you, sweetheart? got marriage written down on your plan?”
“oh of course! it’s definitely on my bucket list!” you sigh dreamily at the thought of you walking down the aisle. “not any time soon though! i like being like this for a moment”
“good. you enjoy that while it lasts.” he advises. “hate to overstep, but what’s the deal with your ex before?”
hearing that makes your smile drop and body slouch. eyes dropping down to your lap. “oh..”
toji senses that bubbly personality of your is wearing off soon as he mentions that, which causes him to panic. “shit, I didn’t mean to make you sad, darling. sorry. you don’t have to explain”
you shake your head, clearing your throat. “no, no! it’s fine it was just—“ you cut yourself with a sad sigh. “he wanted.. to have sex with me at the party but.. i didn’t want to.. because we were drunk! and it wouldn’t be right for us to do it while we’re drunk, right?! so i told him no… over and over and — he didn’t take it well so… he called me a boring bitch and broke it off..”
his eyebrows deepening hearing that, hand around the wheel tighten at the thought of some lowlife punk trying to force himself at a sweet girl like you to have sex,
“you fucking with me?” his tone rising, seeing you shake your head as a no. “my god that’s not— sweetheart, you know that it was not your fault right? was that why you looked so sad? because you thought that you should’ve gave him what he wanted?”
you toy with the hem of your skirt, still looking down before nodding. “…yes.. because maybe then he wouldn’t be mad”
“no.. oh god, no.. don’t you ever, ever think that. what you did was the right thing, baby. you should be proud for standing up to yourself, you know that?”
slowly you look up to him, seeing his genuine eyes looking into yours. “okay..”
but toji doesn’t buy that, instead he shakes his head. “no, i want to hear you say it, come on. say ‘i did the right thing’”
a smile slowly creeps up to your face while your cheeks are heating up. “tojiii” you whine,
he smiles back at you, “come on. say it”
“i—i did the right thing” you repeat slowly,
“good girl” he praises, and that almost makes your body goes slump and your thighs to squeeze together,
when was the last time someone called you that?
throughout the ride, you and toji talk a lot about each other. from a-z. and you can’t help but admit how refreshing it is to finally have someone to talk to like this. it was a non-stop conversation, accompanied by the soft tunes playing in the background—thanks to your choice of music—
you may not notice this but toji is purposely taking the long way just so the conversation stays a bit longer,hoping you don’t realize what he’s doing. it’s not like you would actually complain, you enjoy his company.
despite your age, toji finds you to be the most interesting woman he has ever met. the way you talk freely and articulate words when you speak to him is so attractive. he loves a woman who has her own opinion on everything and you had just shown him that.
you’re smart, witty, have a great sense of humor and not to mention,
really fucking gorgeous.
toji feels like a downright pervert when he tries to sneak a glance at your soft plump thighs every second. imagining how they would look around his head. or the fat of your tits when you bounce on his cock, giving him the perfect view. and your lips,
god, your pink. glossy . lips.
“is this the place?” he pulls up in front of the big frat house where he can see a few kids standing on the porch, typical red solo cups in their hands. his eyes carefully observe the scene before him. “shit, they’re really getting shit faced huh?”
you laugh, looking over where one kid had puked all over the lawn making you grimace. “they’re not all like that everyday”
“hmm sure, sweetheart” he rolls his eyes, but smile anyways. “be careful now, yeah? you got my number saved?”
nodding, you take one good look at him before unbuckling your seatbelt. “yup! thank you for the ride, toji. you’re a real life saver!”
“don’t mention it. keep an eye out on any one who wants to try something with you. especially your ex. let me know if he’s bothering you, i’ll come quickly as i can” he informs,
your heart feels like its about to jump out of your chest, “i will, thanks again and oh! wait— can i … see you again?”
he quirks an eyebrow at that, a cocky smirk stretches upon his pretty lips causing you to glance down at it,
“you want to?” his finger and thumb softly tapping against the wheel
“i do” you reply quickly, biting down on your lower lip as your hand fiddle against the handle of his car door. “this can’t be the last time, right?”
no, of course not he thinks. because he wants to see you too. if not more than you want to see him. might as well take you out on a date, or a stroll. anything. as long as he gets to see that pretty face of yours longer than just an hour.
“you got it, sweetheart. keep a look out for a text from me, then yeah?” his hand then reach our to grab your other one, giving a soft kiss on the knuckles while maintaining an eye contact with you,
you let out a shaky breathe with a small cute smile as he rubs his thumb against your skin. before you can even move your hand to open the door, he does it for you. shooting you another smile of his.
you grab your purse and climb out of the vehicle, waving your hand at him. “good night , toji”
“goodnight, y/n. i’ll see you very soon” he winks before you close the door and see himself drive off,
you stand there for a while with a bright smile on your face that never seems to leave,
you really can’t wait to see him again
—
next part, first date?👀
a/n: also, planning to make this into a series <3
taglist:
@fushipurro
@crocodilethesir
@chilichopsticks
@trentknd
@tojis-ball-sack
@hellokittyloverrxox
@xavlyzn
#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro blurbs#toji fushiguro fluff#dilf!toji
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Take Trouble, Make It Double
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.7k | Pairing: csc x f!reader x yjh | Genre: smut, threesome, romance, college au, frat bros!cheol and jeonghan
Summary: It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it.
Warnings: mention of alcohol, threesome, petnames (good girl, angel, sweetheart, baby), biting/marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, double penetration in one hole, double creampie, cheol doesn’t have abs, implied poly ending
Reader Notes: has a vagina and breasts, referred to as a girl, in a sorority, cums easily, gets lifted by cheol
Shit, you are not drunk enough for a frat party of this magnitude.
Unfortunately, considering that you’re volunteering early tomorrow and it would be hell if you were hungover, you don’t think you’ll drink anymore. Guys won’t stop asking if they can get you another drink and you’re getting tired of saying no, so you decide to head to the kitchen to refill your cup with soda. That should get them off your back, and you need a bit of an energy boost to withstand this party. You’re crossing the crowded living room to get to the kitchen when you spot Jeonghan and feel your heart stop.
Fuck, you’re in trouble.
You slept with him a week ago, and tonight, you were thinking of trying to hook up with him again.
It was… transcendental for you, and you hope it was just as good for him. You wouldn’t know, because he never called. Sure, he doesn’t have your number, but considering your sorority house is neighboring his frat house, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to obtain it. If he wanted to, that is.
You can only assume he didn’t, which puts a bit of a dent in your plans (and in your heart). You look away from him quickly, walking faster when you notice him push off of the wall he’s leaning against, his eyes on you and his mouth open like he’s about to call out your name.
You enter the oddly empty kitchen before he can, and you’re in the process of digging through the cooler for a bottle of coke when he appears next to you. You feel him before you see him, one of his hands touching your elbow and offering you a soda from the fridge. How he knew what you wanted, you don’t know.
“Hey,” he breathes, looking at you with slightly apprehensive eyes, like he’s not sure how he’ll be received.
You take in a deep breath and force a smile, trying to appear unaffected. “Hey, Jeonghan.”
“I’m glad you’re here, I’ve really been wanting to talk to you,” he says, his hand slipping down from your elbow to tangle his fingers with yours.
“I live right next door,” you remind him, pulling away to open the bottle and turning from him to fill your cup.
Out of your view, he bites his lip, cringing at the little bit of hurt that seeps through your mask.
“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t reach out. There are… reasons. But still, you didn’t deserve that.”
“Can you tell me the reasons?” You ask curiously, already having accepted his apology in your mind. He sounded sincere, and fuck, you still want him.
“They involve someone else, and I don’t want to-”
“He didn’t ask you out because I told him I wanted to,” a voice sounds from the doorway, making you jump and look over.
Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to, your heart pounding at the sight of Seungcheol. You dated in freshman year and he was your first real love, and when he broke up with you, you were devastated.
He said he was too busy between the fraternity and rugby practice and classes, and while you believed him, you knew that no matter how busy you were, you’d still want to be with him. You’ve managed to avoid him till now, always going to different frats for parties and tailgates, until last week, of course.
Some of your younger sisters begged you to go, saying they were scared to attend without you, and your protective side kicked in much to your detriment.
Because at that party, you met Jeonghan, and slept with someone for the first time since Seungcheol, who wasn’t in attendance (thank fucking God).
You don’t know how to respond, too many thoughts swirling around your head to make sense of anything. You obviously knew they were brothers, but you didn’t realize they were close or you wouldn’t have agreed to go to Jeonghan’s room.
Jeonghan must not have known you’re Cheol’s ex; if he did, you doubt he would have asked you in the first place. And now apparently Seungcheol wants you again, but Jeonghan wants you too?
Are you supposed to choose between them or…?
You always said you’d never take Seungcheol back after he hurt you like that, but now you’re reconsidering. Because he’s here before you, and you still love him like you used to.
There are still your growing feelings for Jeonghan to consider though, and suddenly being in this empty kitchen with just the two of them is stifling.
Seungcheol can read you still, comes closer to you on steady feet with sincere eyes, and says, “I never should have broken up with you. I should have held onto you and never let go, but I didn’t, and now it’s probably too late. It would be selfish of me to ask you out now, when I know my best friend could treat you better than I ever did.”
He sounds resigned, and you look to Jeonghan, who’s staring at him with a grateful, melancholy gaze. The ache in your chest is so sharp, your eyes water, and you look back and forth between them hopelessly.
“I guess I can’t have you both, can I?” You murmur, slumping against the counter and crossing your arms to hold yourself together.
Their gazes snap to each other and they communicate soundlessly, with gestures and eyebrows and widening eyes, before turning to you and saying, “What if you could?”
You weave through the dancing, drunk crowd, one of your hands caught in Jeonghan’s and the other held by Seungcheol. Your heart is racing and your panties are wet, but you’re doing your absolute best to seem unaffected by the idea of what you’re about to do.
It’s a bit nerve wracking, the concept of two men at once, but you’ve been through sorority recruitment in the blazing heat so you’re pretty sure you can handle anything.
Some of your sisters would disapprove of this but most would be cheering you on, and through the flashing lights and writhing bodies, you spot your best friend giving you a wide smile and a thumbs up. That’s enough to bolster you, and you hold your head high as you follow Jeonghan to the room he apparently shares with Seungcheol.
Jeonghan opens the door and ushers you inside, waiting for Seungcheol to cross the threshold and entering behind him, closing the door with a resounding click and muffling the roaring party.
They close in on you quickly, one set of hands pulling your top off and the other unbuttoning and tugging down your jeans, leaving you standing in your bra and underwear between them. You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on the back of your neck as he leans in to lay kisses along the line of your shoulder, and Jeonghan gives you an easy grin before cupping your face and drawing you into an open mouthed kiss.
They both know how you like to be touched, and they don’t hesitate to use that knowledge to their advantage. Seungcheol’s hand slides over your stomach and slips into your panties, his fingers gliding through your folds with how wet you already are. He presses his smug grin into your throat, whispers, “Want us that badly, huh?”
You flush from head to toe, suddenly shy, and gasp into Jeonghan’s mouth when Seungcheol finds your clit. He rubs it with the pads of his fingers slowly, gently, knowing you need some time to adjust to the sensation of someone else touching you.
Jeonghan unclasps your bra with practiced fingers, pulling it down your arms and off before covering your tits with his soft hands. He squeezes them, brushes his thumbs back and forth over your nipples until they’re hard, until you’re pressing your chest into his hands.
Seungcheol is still rubbing your clit, but his circles are firmer now, more insistent, and you just know he’s going to make you cum like this, know they’re going to make you cum like this.
They work together to work you up, two of Seungcheol’s fingers sinking into you as Jeonghan breaks the kiss and leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. When Seungcheol’s fingertips curl into the patch of nerves inside you, you let out a rough gasp, wilting against his chest as his thumb presses into your clit.
Jeonghan just breathes a soft laugh, following you and grasping one of your hips with his free hand to hold you steady, to hold you still as you start to climb that mountain. You’re already throbbing, already clenching around Seungcheol’s fingers, and when he starts to fuck you with them, you feel yourself get even wetter. He adds a third and hooks them all into your g-spot as he digs his hips into you, the feeling of his hard cock making you hotter.
His thumb catches your clit at just the right angle and you start to flutter around his fingers, your pussy locking down on them as Jeonghan bites a stinging mark into the side of your breast. You whimper weakly, resting more of your weight on Seungcheol and knowing he can take it as you break apart between them.
“There we go, good girl,” Seungcheol murmurs roughly into your neck, one strong arm banding around your waist to hold you to him as you shake and whine and squeeze his fingers. Jeonghan pulls away from your tits to find your lips again, swallowing your sounds and sucking at your tongue as he presses his hard dick against you, moaning lowly into your mouth.
A shiver wracks through you when Seungcheol grinds his fingers into your g-spot again, before you’ve come down from the first orgasm. You remember how many times he used to make you cum when you were together and swallow nervously, attempting to prepare yourself for his particular brand of overstimulation.
Jeonghan, on the other hand, ate you out so gently for so long, it’s like you had one continuous, never ending, nearly lethal orgasm. It’ll be interesting to see how their styles combine, and as Seungcheol brings you right back to the edge, you vow to yourself that you’ll take whatever they give you.
It’s not every day you get to fuck your campus crush and your no longer ex-boyfriend, and you’re going to make the most of it.
Which means that when Seungcheol whispers, “Again, I want you to cum again,” and Jeonghan mumbles, “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for us,” you listen. Your cunt clamps down and your back arches and your voice wavers as you fall to pieces again.
It’s scary almost, how they can make you cum on command, but you revel in it too, revel in the fact that they know you that well. That with just a few words, they can push you over the edge.
And hell, you revel in the fact that they want to push you over the edge, that they want you.
It makes you so wet, you can hear Seungcheol fucking you with his fingers, slick sounds and squelches following every thrust and curl. You know they can hear it too and your cheeks heat, though you’re pretty sure they like it if their labored breathing and hard dicks say anything.
You’re starting to get sensitive but you won’t stop him, not when Jeonghan slides his hand under Seungcheol’s and knocks his thumb away from your clit so he can swirl circles with his soft fingertips. The stark difference in how they touch you is exhilarating, Seungcheol’s rough fingers inside you combined with Jeonghan’s gentle touch making you cry out.
You can barely hold yourself up but Seungcheol is strong enough to keep you standing, even as your knees weaken and you slump back against him. Jeonghan doesn’t follow you this time, just keeps circling your clit and watches as you shake and moan and gush for them, a slight smirk curling his lips as he slips his hand down and works two of his slim fingers inside you alongside Seungcheol’s thick three.
The fullness is more than anything you’ve ever felt. It takes your breath away, saps every last bit of strength from you until their hands on you (and in you) are the only things holding you up. You can’t even make a sound, you’re so overwhelmed, and Jeonghan takes a second to lean in close and ask, “You okay, angel? Is it too much?”
You can only shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut and your chest heaving as you gasp for air. He starts to pull his fingers out and your hand flies to his wrist, keeping his hand from drawing away. You realize he thinks you were answering the first question, and you force out, “I’m okay. S’not too much.”
He exhales in relief, sinking his fingers back in and saying, “What if we fucked you like this? Both of us in this sweet little cunt. Would you like that, angel?”
“Do you think you could take it?” Seungcheol chimes in, sounding worried and doubtful, as if they’re not currently five fucking fingers deep.
The words are flowing out of your mouth before you’ve even finished thinking about it.
“Yes, I can, I want it so fucking bad. Please, I want you both inside of me,” you whimper, one hand clutching Jeonghan’s wrist and the other gripping Seungcheol’s forearm to keep them close to you, though you know they’ll have to pull away if you want their dicks.
“If you’re sure, sweetheart,” Seungcheol whispers into your throat before pressing a tender kiss to your sensitive skin, his plump lips whisper soft against you.
“I’m sure,” you whine as you force yourself to let go of their arms, allowing them to withdraw from you. They carry lead you over to one of their twin beds, and for the first time tonight, they seem a little bashful.
“Sorry it’s so small, the guys would riot if we got double beds and they got singles,” Seungcheol grimaces, helping you take your panties off and lay down before tugging off his shirt. Jeonghan follows suit and you sigh dreamily, watching as they reveal more and more skin. You’re rubbing your legs together by the time they’re done, your eyes darting between them so you can get your fill of both.
Seungcheol’s cock is long, thick, with veins wrapped around the length like vines, and Jeonghan’s is slightly longer, just a bit slimmer, and curved up. Immediately, you know you want to keep Jeonghan in the front, your pussy aching at the memory of the way he could grind the head of his cock into your g-spot. You like feeling Seungcheol’s buff body behind you anyway, like feeling his firm muscles and his soft tummy and his thick thighs, so this really is the best of both worlds.
They smile like they know what you’re thinking, and you start to wonder if they do when they join you on the bed and begin maneuvering you. Seungcheol pulls you up by the hands and to the edge of the bed so Jeonghan can lay down in your place, and you feel their hands steady you as you climb astride him, Seungcheol following you.
Jeonghan lets go to hold his cock in place for you, guiding it to your entrance and watching as you sink down onto him. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth opening on a low moan at the sensation of your hot, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You’re similarly affected, the perfect curve of his dick making your eyes water and your pussy clench.
“You should be stretched out enough to take me too, but I think Jeonghan should fuck you first just to make sure. Not for too long though, I need you so fucking bad,” Seungcheol says, his voice rough and his hands tight on your hips. He must sense your inability to move, because he does the moving for you, lifting you nearly off Jeonghan’s cock and letting you fall back down as Jeonghan thrusts up.
A punched out moan escapes your parted lips at the feeling of their hands on you, of Jeonghan filling you, of Seungcheol moving you like a doll. You think about having both of them at the same time, and know you just can’t wait.
“Want you now, Cheol,” you gasp, reaching back to find his hip and attempting to pull him to you, though he’s too strong for you to move him much.
“Baby, I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt you,” he’s obviously hesitant, and you don’t want to push him past his comfort levels but fuck, you want him so bad.
“I can take it, Cheol, I can take you, I promise,” you gasp, already on the verge of begging and nearly on the verge of tears too. “Please, you’ve made me wait long enough.”
That’s the final nail in the coffin, and Seungcheol sighs with resignation as he takes hold of his dick and guides it between your legs. “Okay, sweetheart, okay, but if it’s too much, all you have to do is tell us.”
You nod fervently and lean down, draping yourself over Jeonghan so Seungcheol has a better angle. You can hear the deep breath he takes before he hooks one finger inside you alongside Jeonghan’s cock, then two fingers, then three, before pulling them out and finally replacing them with his dick.
When he starts to push inside, the sensation steals every last molecule of oxygen in your lungs, leaving you entirely breathless. It’s a good thing you’re resting on Jeonghan’s chest because you’re dizzy, lightheaded, dazed at the stretch you feel.
Seungcheol goes so slowly you’ve regained your breath by the time he’s fully inside of you, though your chest still feels tight with your pussy at its absolute limit.
It occurs to you that you’ll never take more than this, that this is the fullest you’ve ever been, ever will be, and you feel a rush of arousal gather around the bases of their cocks, your cunt too tight for much to escape. Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been grunting and groaning with pleasure (or restraint), but when you flood them and squeeze them, they both let out the most delicious whimpers.
“Are you-”
“Yes, move,” you moan, not even registering who asked you, your eyes clenched shut and your thighs trembling as you wait.
Jeonghan moves first, shoving just a bit deeper inside of you before pulling his hips back and sliding in again. You’re wet enough his dick glides against Seungcheol’s, and when he starts to fuck you too, you find yourself in a state of ecstasy so sharp, it nearly hurts. They take a few thrusts to find their rhythm, but eventually they do, and it’s almost more than you can take.
You’ll never ask them to stop though, never want them to stop. You just need them to fuck you like this forever, fuck you and fill you and keep you. Because you want to be kept by them, and you want them to want to keep you.
You can’t stop whimpering, your moans blending together until they’re endless, dotted by gasps and sharp cries. Seungcheol and Jeonghan are making noise too, and if you were lucid enough, you’d hope the music outside is loud enough to cover the obvious sounds of sex.
As it is, you can only lay there and feel each impact of Seungcheol’s and Jeonghan’s hips against yours, every thrust from Seungcheol pushing you into Jeonghan and every thrust from Jeonghan pushing you into Seungcheol. Until Seungcheol wraps his arms around your neck and waist and pulls you up into his body.
The change in angle makes you cry out, as does the big hand he places on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there like he knows you like as he and Jeonghan begin moving in unison. Seungcheol holds you in place so they can thrust up into you, and the feeling of them filling you together is somehow even better than them alternating.
Jeonghan’s eyes trail over your body, his hands following them down down down until one catches on your hip and the other slips between your thighs. When his delicate fingers find your swollen, sensitive clit, you yelp, your hips jolting into them and away as he rubs steady, insistent circles.
He must be getting close if he’s trying to make you cum, and you can tell by Seungcheol’s sounds and leaking dick that he’s getting close too. You’re almost scared of it, scared of the tidal wave of pleasure that will overtake you when it’s already almost too much, but you know that if they want you to break for them, you will.
Seungcheol starts sucking marks into the side of your neck, and Jeonghan forces out in a trembling voice, “You gonna cum for us again, angel? Last one, I promise. Just be good for us one last time, please.”
“Cum, sweetheart, I know you can,” Seungcheol encourages you through gritted teeth.
And God, you want to be good for them, you want to be Jeonghan’s angel and Seungcheol’s sweetheart, so when you feel it start to build up deep inside, you don’t fight it. You let the stinging bliss coil tighter and tighter in your belly until it shatters, taking you apart at the seams. Your walls clamp down and you nearly force them from you, but they thrust in deep and stay as you cum so hard, you lose all sense of time and space and matter.
The only tethers you have to this plane of existence are Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and they hold you up and hold you together as you try to swim through the stars in your eyes. You force yourself to wake up when you hear the tell-tale noises of their approaching highs, wanting to be fully present for the moment they fill you.
Jeonghan and Seungcheol are the only men you’ve ever let cum inside you, and you can’t wait to feel that again, to feel them again. It’ll be different this time, you know, will probably alter your brain chemistry and the trajectory of your life, but you’re ready.
“Cum for me, I want to feel you both filling me up, please,” you whine, nearly shaking in Seungcheol’s arms out of anticipation. Jeonghan’s face crumples in pleasure, Seungcheol lets out the hottest little whimper you’ve ever heard, and they break together, flooding you with so much cum, you think you’ll burst.
Their hands grip you tight but you don’t care, wouldn’t mind waking tomorrow to sore spots and lingering reminders of the night you shared with them, of probably the best night of your life. Seungcheol’s hand drops from your neck to wrap around your waist, pulling you into a sweet, soft hug before letting go and slowly lowering you back onto Jeonghan’s chest.
Jeonghan’s smile is dazed, satiated, satisfied, and he drops it to pout at you expectantly, his eyes hazy and his hand gentling on your hip. You lean in and press your lips to his, humming into his mouth when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip. He doesn’t deepen the kiss much, eventually tapering off into little pecks and smooches that he dots all over your face.
“Ready for us to pull out?” Seungcheol asks gently, rubbing your back with his big, rugby-rough hands.
You nod and breathe, “Go one at a time, please,” bracing yourself for the approaching emptiness and attempting to push off the thoughts and fears of what will happen after this.
Seungcheol withdraws first, pulling his hips from yours and dragging his softening cock out of your still fluttering pussy before climbing off the bed and heading to his closet. It’s almost odd to just feel Jeonghan inside of you, and you know it’ll feel even weirder not to feel either of them. You’ll just be you again, not you and Seungcheol and Jeonghan, and you can’t say you’re excited.
It must show on your face because Jeonghan cups your cheeks, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and whispers, “Everything will be okay, I promise.”
“So do I,” Seungcheol murmurs as he approaches with a towel in hand.
He holds your hips up so Jeonghan can pull out, a surge of cum following his exit now that there’s nothing keeping it inside. Seungcheol catches it with the towel, wiping at your thighs and dabbing gently at your stretched, sore pussy.
Jeonghan passes a hand over your hair and waits until you’re as clean as you can get before tilting to the side and carefully sliding out from under you, disappearing from view. You try not to feel lonely without them in bed with you, try to remind yourself that there’s no way this could work, try to steel yourself as you imagine stumbling out of their door and making your way through the party back to your own house.
You hope they’ll walk you home at least, maybe give you a kiss goodbye before never calling you again, just like before.
Jeonghan returns clothed in pajamas with a bottle of water from their mini fridge, cracking it open and handing it to you with waiting eyes. You take a sip and he grins, so you take another, realizing how parched you are and practically gulping the whole thing down in one go.
“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty bottle from you and smirking at the way your eyes snap to his. “What? I wanted to try it out too. Did you like it?”
“Yes,” you answer honestly, both because you don’t see a point in lying and because you’re loosened up from however many orgasms they gave you.
“Good,” he smiles easily, leaning down to kiss you softly. “I like it too.”
Seungcheol sits heavily on the bed next to you, dressed in boxers and a shirt you recognize as one you bought for him, a band tee that’s just a bit too big on him. It’s much thinner than you remember, worn in the shoulders and holey along the hem, and it makes you smile to think he’s been wearing it all this time.
“We have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but I think for now, we should just push the beds together and go the fuck to sleep,” he suggests tiredly, taking your hand in both of his and giving it a loving squeeze.
Jeonghan nods and points to a door, “We do have our own bathroom, so you can take a shower while we rearrange the room, angel.”
They want you to… stay? The party seems to be dying down, it would be easy enough for them to slip you out without too many eyes, but it seems that thought hasn’t even crossed their minds. You try to contain the beam but it stretches your lips anyway, a rush of giddiness giving you enough energy to stand on your shaky legs and start to limp over to the bathroom.
They stand with you, Jeonghan speeding ahead to turn the shower on and Seungcheol reaching out to open the door for you, pressing his warm hand to your lower back as you pass him. Jeonghan presses a kiss to your lips and hands you a towel, reaching his hand into the shower stall and saying, “Should be warm enough for you. We’ll see you soon?”
You smile a watery smile and respond, “See you soon,” as he exits the bathroom, leaving you with Seungcheol. He brings you into another hug, swaying you like he used to and pressing a kiss to your hair before reluctantly letting you go, holding his hand out to steady you as you climb into the shower. The corners of his mouth quirk up fondly when you refuse to let go, and he pulls your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be waiting for you. We’ll be waiting for you.”
He seals his promise with one last kiss before tugging the shower curtain between you and padding away on quiet feet.
Somehow, you really do think everything will be okay.
AN: this was suggested by an anon and i am eternally grateful bc woooie do i love frat/college aus and jeongcheol
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how i picture the morning after if you're curious
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