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lovebugism · 28 days

Note

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face.

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand.

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands.

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch.

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later.

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown.

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her.

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices.

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh.

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life.

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking.

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place.

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year.

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

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angelltheninth · 1 month

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Hey! 2 things.

1, you are an incredible human being and an inspiration to all x reader writers out there. Seriously, keep doing what you do.

2, I was wondering if you could write boyfriend headcannons for Gambit from the animated X-Men series. Either NSFW or SFW is fine (or both🤨).

If not, then I just send good words and lots of love and support from myself and other writers.

STAY YOU!!!

Gambit is actually among my top 3 favorite X-Men, at least the men.

Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, gentle to rough sex, teasing, kissing, fingering, clit simulation, morning sex, domestic fluff, pre-mission sex

A/N: The new show re-ignited my love for him.

Gambit isn't exactly lazy but he is still very much in the honeymoon phase of you relationship

And that grants him the right to be a bit more lazy in the mornings

He can't let you go without some cuddling and kisses

Which would be fine if he wasn't so handsy with you all the fucking time

You joked about tying his hands behind his back for one he could get out of that easily, and two it would turn him on more

His hands are too nice to restrain anyways, it would be a great loss for you

Knows you don't have that much time so he won't waste any more, he let's you know what he wants, and that is you riding his fingers with your shirt pushed up so he can see your tits

Because he's so honest you can't tell him no, because of that and his smile that makes your knees weak and pussy throb

Not one, finger he knows you can already take two

Curse him for being a tease like he was, and for knowing just how you like your clit rubbed to get your hips to shake on top of him

Sitting up he kisses you to silence you moans at the change of the angle, now his fingers are three knuckles deep, he's only able to curl them upwards

But he can still move his thumb around your clit, he can still use his other hand to grope your breast while licking and kissing the other one

Nothing could tear Gambit away from you now, no danger or mission or apocalypse, not even you pulling on his hair like that to pull him from your sensitive nipple

The fingers inside you are good but not enough to make you finish

You need something much thicker, you need that cock of his that's been pressing against your thigh

Since he's already sitting up you sit on his lap, kissing him breathless while you, somewhat awkwardly push his underwear down to his feet

No more teasing, Gambit pushes the whole throbbing length into your pussyhole, filling the emptiness left by his fingers

Doesn't let you ride him fast, he wants to enjoy this, you have a whole day of not being able to do this ahead of you

With his hands moving from your hips to your soft thighs to your even softer ass he gives it a playful smack every time you speed up too much

You want to kiss that knowing smirk right off his smug face

And hell, he's not saying no

Feel free to leave as many scratch marks as you'd like

He really doesn't want to pull out but he is really close, here, he'll give you his fingers instead, your pussy doesn't have to be empty when you come, he knows you hate that more then anything

Not as good as his cock but better then nothing

Infinitely more messy when he comes because his cum goes all over your stomach

Now you have to take a shower too, if anyone asks why you're late to the mission briefing you'll blame it on your boyfriend

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aira-cc · 1 year

Photo

✦🪵Wooden Clutter Set🪵✦

Hello everybody!! It's been a while. I really miss all of you and the sims 🥺 I'm sorry I haven't been here lately. I was busy with work and trying to change-decorate the rooms in my house. During this time, I couldn't follow the sims news and my simmer friends' gameplays :,(( I want to catch up with everything. Also, one of my birds injured its wing and got sick. I was taking care of her. They said she had muscle loss and bone thinning due to egg laying so long-term treatment was started. It's going well for now, anyway.

I didn't want to spend this month without cc and had to share something before New Year's Eve. Here is the '’Wooden Clutter Set’'!! You can consider this set as a Christmas gift🎅The concept was chosen by my patrons and although It wasn't planned I think it fits Christmas.

The set includes 25 items:

♡ Wooden Framed Art | 1 Swatch | 882 Polys

♡ 4 Piece Pictures | 15 Swatches | 472 Polys

♡ 2 Piece Pictures | 15 Swatches | 236 Polys

♡ Wall Mounted Decor | 1 Swatch | 166 Polys

♡ Wall Mounted Shelf | 1 Swatch | 86 Polys

♡ Key Holder | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Ballerina Music Box Low Poly | 5 Swatches | 2.3k Polys

♡ Ballerina Music Box | 5 Swatches | 3.7k Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Boards | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 1 | 1 Swatch | 386 Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 2 | 1 Swatch | 416 Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 3 | 1 Swatch | 410 Polys

♡ Watering Can | 1 Swatch | 486 Polys

♡ Angular Basket | 4 Swatches | 718 Polys

♡ Water Supply Box | 1 Swatch | 112 Polys

♡ Wooden Garden | 4 Swatches | 1.2k Polys

♡ Weather Stack | 1 Swatch | 446 Polys

♡ Pear&Orange | 1 Swatch | 880 Polys

♡ Sheep Note Holder | 1 Swatch | 332 Polys

♡ Wooden Animals | 1 Swatch | 852 Polys

♡ Bird Toy | 4 Swatches | 726 Polys

♡ Dog Toy | 4 Swatches | 726 Polys

♡ Dog Eyeglass Stand | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Wooden Boat&Waves | 1 Swatch | 382 Polys

♡ Mushrooms on Log | 1 Swatch | 1k Polys

Additional Info:

BGC

Tagged swatches

Custom thumbnails

This time I tried to keep the poly counts low. I even added a lesser version of the music box because found its polys too high. You can use both versions at the same time if you want. You can quickly access these items by searching “wooden” or “aira” in the game. If you run into any issues please let me know. Hope you like the gift. Happy new year!! ❤️🎁

❀ Music Box and Bear Cutting Boards were suggested on Pinterest. Thank you very much to the people who made suggestions!! ❀

♡ Download on Patreon(Free)

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q1ngqve · 3 months

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Hiiii I'm the avenratio x reader requester a while back!! No worries I'm not here to make you hurry up on that but I did want to leave some more food for thought!! :3 But hmmmm AvenRatio who starts their toxic yaoi w you as their messenger/wingman LMAO so you've seen some and been through some shit cause of them HDHSHSHHS and then one day they get together and you're like my work here is done!!! And try to leave but you silly! Silly thing <333 you have been part of their dynamic since the very beginning isn't that why you were both helping them in the first place?

Tsk tsk tsk guess they'll just have to reteach their dumb stupid little human on what's correct or not <333 (yes imagine this w wolf ratio and fox aventurine or something and you're a normal human okay good day idk what my anon tag should be you decide)

im gonna change it up a little because i dont write for mlm so 😼 also reader is a bunny hybrid because ive been obsessed with this dynamic lately

CW; fem! reader, threesome, bunny hybrid reader, fox hybrid aventurine, wolf hybrid dr ratio, degradation, sex toy (dildo), double penetration (ass & vagina), throat fucking

wolf! dr ratio would be degrading you the whole time after he finds out that you think you could just run away after helping them! are you really that dumb or just pretending to not know?

“dumb little bunny, thinking she can just leave us whenever she likes.”

and fox! aventurine would be laugh teasingly at you as he shoves a dildo up your ass, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes when he turns up the vibration on the toy

wolf! dr ratio and fox! aventurine getting even more excited when they notice your fluffy tail twitching and your ears flopping down to the back of your head each them they play with the sensitive parts on your body

their animal instincts taking over when you promise to be good and listen to whatever they say, because you’re just too dumb to make any correct decisions for yourself! you just need two big men to make all your decisions for you, so you can turn off your brain when you’re with them! why think at all when they can do that for you?

“gotta teach you a lesson, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

fox! aventurine’s grip on your hair tightens as he fucks your mouth, your throat constricting around the tip of his dick, while wolf! dr ratio pounds into your pussy from behind, the dildo in your ass not helping the situation. you’re so full that all you can do is whine around aventurine’s dick as you clench around wolf! dr ratio :(

“c’mon, use your words.” knowing full well you’re already fucked dumb and delirious! they just wanna tease you 😵‍💫

#another short one #animal hybrids!!!!!#hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine smut #aventurine #aventurine x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio smut #🀥 lan’s writings!#☃︎ anons!

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hitomisuzuya · 7 months

Note

HIII SUZUUU first time requesting kind nervous lol. For once finally ur requests are open when I'm up 😭 I've been thinking abt scummy scara way too much lately like literally basically imagine just going on a cute date with him only for him to fuck you dumb the second u guys arent in public 🤭🤭🤭

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Scummy Scaramouche. Smut. Edging. Teasing. Degradation. Some date fluff. Reader is hinted in having a metal allergy cause I am allergic to gold jewelry.

Have I said how much I love when requests are worded like this 😳😌 No one should feel nervous requesting from me. 🥺

It was no secret that Scaramouche was a trust fund baby. And the one thing he liked to do with that money is spend it on you. He has to spoil his precious girl, after all.

If there was a cute stuffed animal you looked at for even a second in passing, it was yours. You wanted a book, he bought the whole series for you. You commented on how pretty a piece of expensive jewelry was, he bought it without hesitation. Especially if it was silver. Your skin was finicky about certain metals.

Scaramouche thought silver was prettier, anyways. Not prettier than you. How dare a metal even consider coming close to you.

He always touching you in some way as you walked. An arm around your waist, holding your hand, even sitting down somewhere he had his hand on your thigh. You were taken, damn it, and he needed to make the perfectly clear to anyone who looked.

"Scara, you've spent enough money on me already," You fretted, making him chuckle as he stopped in front of a lingerie boutique in town.

"Nonsense, I insist," Scaramouche replied. Oh yeah, he always insisted. Especially if it meant picking out lingerie for him to rip off later.

God, just picturing how you would look in the lacy black, blue, and purple lingerie to picked out for you was starting to make his cock twitch. "If you need any help, I can come in with you," He said, wishing the changing room door had some kind of keyhole.

"No, Scara, it's okay. I can manage," You said, blushing from how enthusiastic he sounded about helping you put everything on.

That wasn't the point. He needed to see how you looked in them. His imagination was starting to drive him a little crazy. His fingers were shaking with need, and the anticipation of getting his hands on you.

Even the lady behind the counter was starting to give him a stern look. He probably looked something like a dog frothing at the mouth.

With many bags in hand, back you headed with Scaramouche to his dorm. No sooner were you a few steps from it, he was making you drop bags right in the hallway, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed greedily over your body, biting at your lips as he kissed you.

"Mmmm~," He purred, hooking his fingers through your panties, "you wore the one I hoped you would out of the store." He could hardly wait when you had given him only a price tag to take up to the counter with everything else.

Throwing open his dorm room door, Scaramouche stumbled inside with you, his lips never leaving yours. His hands pawed at your clothes, standing behind you in front of his mirror so he could watch himself remove the lacy purple lingerie. "Purple always looks so pretty on your skin," He kissed and bit at your shoulder as he unhooked your bra, groping your breasts before tugging it off.

Guiding you over to his bed, he pushed you down on it, spreading your legs as he licked a long the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, his spit rolling down the inside of your thighs to soak against the fabric.

"Ha, getting wound already. What a needy slut you are," He purred excitedly, hastily tugging your panties off. His eyes drank in your form spread out before him, just as hastily taking off his clothes. "Can't wait for me to fuck you dumb on my cock, hm?"

You whimpered, grinding needily against him as he pressed the tip of his aching cock on your clit. It sounded so fucking sweet to him that he had to hear it over and over again.

Scaramouche groaned every time he heard you whimper, relentlessly teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance. The way you squirmed on desperation, your walls fluttering and clenching around it was a drool worthy sight to him. His mouth said as much, drool dripping down onto your chest.

"Scara, please, put your cock all the way in me. I can't take much more," You pleaded, reaching down to grasp his cock to try and urge it inside of you. "Cum inside of me."

That sent him feral. Folding your body, and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his slid his cock slowly inside of you. Groaning, he cursed when his cock rested against your sweet spot. Pulling out to the tip, he slowly pushed himself back inside so he could feel your walls clench tight around his cock as he bottomed out again.

Every thrust made you see stars, your eyes rolling closed. Wrapping your arms around him, you clung to him. Scaramouche was determined for the entire campus to hear how good he was fucking you.

"Fuck, look at me when you cum, slut," Scaramouche hissed, pounding himself inside of you, his entire body quivering, his cock throbbing with his approaching orgasm.

Your eyes snapped open, tears welling in them as his lips captured yours to swallow your moans. He bit at your lips, pulling away when your legs started to tremble in pleasure.

"Scream it, whore. Who's fucking you this good, hm?" Scaramouche pushed your legs farther up towards your head, his husky moans only rose in octave as he drove he cock deeper inside of you.

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Scaramouche!" The way you chanted his name like mantra, your release flooding around his cock made him cum suddenly inside of you. He left his cock resting deep into your sweet spot, his warm cum ribboning inside of you. You felt every throb of his cock.

Panting, Scaramouche pulled out of you after a few long minutes of feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you. Rolling off of you, he latched one of his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he scooped some of his cum onto his fingers.

Your back arched off the bed, gasping when he rubbed and hooked his fingers over your sweet spot. You still hadn't entirely come down from your orgasm.

Scaramouche only wanted to continue to make his precious girl feel as good you made him feel. By cumming again all over his fingers.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scummy scara #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche imagines #yandere scaramouche #modern au

596 notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 3 months

Text

Red Satin and Pink Leather: YunSangGi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Kang Yeosang x Song Mingi x fem!Reader

Genre: SMUT MINORS DNI

Word count: 9k

Summary: Catching Yunho on a special video call with you and Mingi, Yeosang is pulled into the party and couldn't be happier for it.

Tags: sub!yeosang, sub!mingi, femdom, dom!reader, dom!yunho, facials, titty-fucking, nipple play, breast worship, voyeurism, filming sex, sex over video calls, phone sex, overstimulation, hand jobs, masturbation, pet names (pretty, baby, baby boy, etc.), anal sex, anal fingering, sex toys, cock rings, orgasm denial, edging, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, dom/sub themes, dom/sub relationships, poly relationships, polyamorous, cum swallowing, cum play, shower sex (brief).

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

He found you where he’d expected: by your mirror, half-dressed, doing your makeup routine. Yeosang leaned against your doorframe, seeing you at your desk applying blush. He liked watching you do your makeup. You always put so much concentration and thought into your appearance regardless of where or who you’ll be with. Tonight, you’d put on your usual routine with an added winged eyeliner and dark lip color. Sexy. Seductive. Yeosang liked the look on you.

“You know,” he coughed, “You don’t need to put on makeup if you’re staying indoors.”

His voice made you jump, and you turned to him, startled for a moment. Seeing him, you laughed softly. “Yeah,” you said, going back to your mirror, “I know. I just like feeling pretty.”

He walked further into the room. Yeosang noticed the outfit you’d laid out on your bed. A satin halter top in red-wine color with a pair of black denim jeans. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of it. The Top. The Shirt. The Blouse of Death. Yeosang’s blood already pumped thinking of you in the flimsy blouse. Mingi mentioned a night-in rather than going out, but this outfit seemed too formal for an at-home date. Perhaps you’d both changed your minds and picked a destination. Perhaps you’re wearing this to ensnare Mingi into a night of rough, wild, sex. Yeosang pitied Mingi. He’d be helpless against you in a low-cut blouse that sometimes showed flashes of whatever bra you wore underneath. Every Ateez member knew this shirt by sight, and knew what it meant.

You wanted sex.

“You’re going to wear this?” Yeosang asked, more amused than anything. He felt the smooth fabric between his fingers, “I hope Mingi’s prepared.”

You looked at him in the mirror, liquid eyeliner in your hand, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t act so coy,” he replied, “You know what this top does to us.”

“Not my fault a simple piece of clothing turns you all into animals,” you said, trying not to smirk as you applied the black liner. “It’s one of my favorites, and I wanted to wear it tonight.”

“But Mingi…” he frowned, “Is so innocent. Please, have mercy upon him, YN!” He changed to a pleading, desperate tone. “Wear it for me. Wear it for me instead! He's only a boy!”

“Oh hush,” you laughed. Wadding up tissue, you threw in his direction. “Mingi’s been feeling down lately and I want to cheer him up. You know, uplift his spirits a bit.”

“It'll definitely uplift something alright,” he snorted, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

“Ugh, you're such a guy” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “I mean it. He's been upset lately, so I wanted to be there for him.”

Yeosang quieted. Neither of you wanted to think about Mingi’s depressive stages. They did not happen often, but when they did, they could be terrible.

“Are you going to be coming back or staying there?” He asked curiously, picking up a cotton swab to gingerly wipe off a stray streak of eyeliner.

“I might stay there,” you said, smiling gratefully. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” he said, admiring how your hair framed your face. “You could've called me. I would've helped you get ready.”

“I didn't want to bother you after you had a long practice day. Besides, I can dress myself, Yeosang.”

“But I like helping. I want you to look your best all the time.”

You pouted, “Aw, my sweet Yeosang. You can help me get dressed then.”

So accustomed to seeing you in your underwear, Yeosang didn't mind when you disrobed. A dark red lingerie set covered your intimate areas, mesh and lace showing enough skin to arouse a man. He gazed over your legs, thighs and hips before landing on your chest. The mesh material in the middle thinly covered your breasts, and Yeosang gulped thickly. Yet, he still took up the top to slide over your body before clasping the back behind your neck.

“Mingi’s going to be a very happy man,” he said as he fixed the draping neckline. Straightening out your small heart necklace, he said, “I don't know how he's going to resist you.”

“Who said I wanted him to?” You grinned at him taking up your jeans.

He put them at your feet and you stepped into them. Yeosang slowly slid the fabric up your legs and thighs, feeling your smooth skin under his knuckles as he went upwards. At your hips, he couldn't stop himself from leaving a kiss on a spot of skin before covering it. When he stood at eye level, you pecked his lips.

“You're so helpful,” you said in an alluring voice. “I'm lucky to have a sweet prince who treats me so well.”

Your ‘dom voice’. He loved that voice. It sent tingles that made him shudder. “I only want to take care of you,” he then squeaked out, “Mistress. Your happiness means a lot to me.”

You cupped his cheek and kissed him. “It's too bad I can't reward your behavior right now.”

“Getting to help you is good enough for me.”

He guided you to your bed where he slipped on your sandals for you. Yeosang wished you'd worn tights again. He liked helping you put them on; it gave him an excuse to touch you further. He placed a gentle kiss on your exposed ankle, buckling the sandal enough to keep it on you all night. You looked down at him lovingly, the way an owner looked at their favorite pet. Yeosang took you aback when he mentioned his submissive tendencies to you. He didn't mind being dominant from time to time, but he liked being babied by you. Something about your dominant personality felt comforting and warm. It made him feel safe. When you first dominated him, he worried it might not work out but you'd gone above and beyond to please him.

And he'd do just about anything to please you back.

“There,” he said with finality, standing up from the floor. “You look spectacular.” You tilted your head expectantly, and he added, “Mistress.”

He helped you off the bed onto your feet. “I wish you were coming back,” he pouted, “Then I could help you get ready for bed too.”

You giggled, “You can help me tomorrow night.”

He didn't tell anyone why he really liked living with him and Yunho. Living with you gave him opportunities to serve you in subtle ways: preparing your favorite meals, helping you with morning and night routines, and overall taking care of you. You did not expect it of him every day and he honestly did not do it often, but he liked caring for you. You are not only the princess to his prince or the Yorkie to his Maltese, but you're the mistress to his servant. After the struggles you've had in life, and juggling eight boyfriends, he wished to make your life as easy as possible. If that meant helping you put on shoes or cook you a cup of ramen, he’d do it.

You went with him into the living room where Yunho sat eating dinner. Cross legged on the couch, he stopped halfway eating noodles when he saw you.

“Wow,” he said, slurping up the rest and wiping his mouth, “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you grinned, sitting next to him.

“You guys are staying in, right?” He asked, stirring the soup with his chopsticks, “Because otherwise Mingi better learn how to control his boners quick.”

“We might go get coffee or something small,” you shrugged, taking out your phone.

“I should tell him to put on a big hoodie,” Yunho reached for his phone nearby, “He can hide it that way.”

“Oh my god, you’re all so ridiculous,” you chuckled, scrolling through your phone as you idly played with Yeosang’s hair. He’d grown it out for this exact reason. “It’s just a top.”

“Yeah, the top,” said Yunho, who quickly typed a message to Mingi. “You know how weak Mingi is for you. He’s going to crumble right away.”

“I told her it was cruel of her to wear it,” Yeosang joked.

He shut his eyes as your fingers gently ran through his scalp. Being this close to you felt comforting. He’d fallen asleep so many times this way, engulfed by your warmth and scent as you pet him. You and Yunho continued talking about your plans for the night as he relaxed into your lap. He didn’t want you to go yet, not when he’s enjoying your body so much. He thought of asking if you and Mingi might stay with them, but he refrained. Every member deserved alone time with you, and Mingi needed it a bit more than the others. Another “baby boy” who needed lots of love, praise and attention from his Mistress. He watched the television before he realized he’d missed something.

“Mistr-YN,” he quickly corrected him, “You didn’t get your bag.”

“I can just get it when Mingi comes. He won’t be here for a while,” you assured him. “I don’t need it at this moment.”

“I don’t want you to forget it and then have to come back,” he sat up from your lap, already feeling the cold, and said, “You tend to forget stuff.”

“I do not,” you retorted.

“No, no, Yeosang’s right,” Yunho intervened, “Yeosang, go get your mistress’s purse before Mingi shows up.”

His cheeks warmed at his words. He walked back to your room, finding your bag on your bed still, and came back. Yeosang noticed Yunho sat closer, trapping you on the couch with his arm, and talking low. He only made out Yunho’s deep voice and your sweet one but nothing you said. Yeosang did not blame Yunho for trying. The red blouse is every Ateez member’s kryptonite.

“Here you go,” Yeosang came over, handing you your bag and returning to his spot on the sofa.

“So sweet,” you cooed, bending to kiss his temple.

He could be like this forever. The doorbell sounded throughout the house, and Yunho went to answer it. “Mingi’s here,” you said to him, smiling softly at Yeosang’s relaxed position. “I gotta go now.”

Yeosang grumbled and sat up. “Hope you have a good time,” he said, already feeling cold without you, “Kiss?”

“Kiss.”

You let your lips linger on his a few seconds before pulling away. Mingi walked in right as you reached the living room threshold. He didn’t wear the hoodie, but seeing his amazed expression, he likely regretted not taking the advice. Yeosang watched you and Mingi kiss, then say goodbye as you went out the door. The silence built back up once you’d left, your scent and warmth going with you.

“Atinys are always saying I’m her puppy,” Yunho stood nearby with a teasing smile on his face, “But you’re more of a puppy than me.”

“Shut up,” he laughed softly, throwing a small pillow at him before getting up from the bed. “It’s been a while for me, that’s all.”

“You can always ask her the next time you two go out,” Yunho said, walking to his room with Yeosang behind him. “She’d never say no to her prince.”

Yeosang’s blush crept from his cheeks to his ears, “It’s what I like, okay?”

“I wasn’t dissing you,” he turned when he reached his bedroom door, the smile gone once he saw Yeosang’s face. “We all have different kinks. I mean, I like CNC which isn’t everybody’s thing.”

“You do? When have you done it?”

“When you went to visit your parents’,” he answered as Yeosang passed him. “She wanted to do it, so we did. YN doesn’t mind experimenting,” he smirked, “She loves trying new things. You should ask her to go full dom with you next time; she might do it.”

“You think she would?” he asked meekly. “We kind of do it in bed sometimes, but not all the way. I don’t know if she really does like it.”

“Just ask, Yeosangie. You won’t know until you do. It’s what Wooyoung told me.”

Yes, Yeosang heard all about Wooyoung’s free-use fantasy and how you’d tried it for him. “It’s not really only the sex,” he said. “It’s things outside of the bedroom too. I like taking care of her, and doing things for her.” He snorted a laugh, “I know she likes to be independent so I don’t push it on her.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened with lust, and moved towards Yeosang. For a moment, all the breath in his body came out at the close proximity. “If she doesn’t want a cute submissive to serve her,” he lifted Yeosang’s chin so he looked up at him, “I wouldn’t mind taking her place. I personally think you’d look pretty with one of my collars around your neck…”

“Hyung…”

“I prefer my subs to call me ‘Sir’, but if you like ‘Hyung’ we can use that.”

“Hyung,” he giggled at his forwardness. “I’m gonna go game for a bit before bed,” he said, body flushed in heat when he met Yunho’s eyes, his words sending more warmth to his crotch. “We have a free day tomorrow, but I need to go to the practice room early.”

“Alright,” he accepted, “But if you change your mind, I’ll let you pick your collar.”

He brushed Yeosang’s lips with his thumb before kissing him softly. The kiss alone flared up the fires kindling inside. Yeosang thought of joining him in bed. He used to do it all the time when they lived in the dorm. On nights where sleep was impossible or stress of debut life became a struggle, the members slipped into each other’s beds. Yeosang remembered falling asleep to Wooyoung and San’s heavy breathing or Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s low whining and whimpering. He particularly enjoyed the nights where he woke up to Yunho stroking him slowly, wanting intimacy and release.

“Night, pretty,” Yunho said, kissing him one more time before retreating into his bedroom.

The pet name shook him. Alone in the hallway, he knew he should go before he did something stupid. Yunho is only teasing. He doesn’t actually want to. He probably has a big game session planned anyways. Yeosang walked away from the doorway, taking deep breaths.

And trying not to think of the old days.

****

He’d heard your voice. He swore he did. Walking by Yunho’s room, your voice caught his ear and he’ll admit it piqued his curiosity. Yeosang wondered how you’d gotten back in without anyone noticing before he heard another voice, a deeper voice. Mingi. How could you both be here? Why were you in Yunho’s room? Yeosang pictured the three of you entangled in each other on Yunho’s large bed. He remembered the satin top and tight dark jeans; no way any man could resist you in it. He thought Mingi might take you to his dorm, but he’d brought you home instead. He wouldn’t be the first member you brought home.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Yeosang quietly cracked open Yunho’s bedroom. He expected you there, half naked and laying between the two tall men. A surge of arousal burst through him thinking about it, yet when he looked inside, he only saw Yunho. In the bright lighting of his bedroom, Yunho sat against the headboard, legs parted and hand rubbing his crotch. He spotted a miniature tripod at the foot of the bed, his phone attached and facing him. A myriad of dirty thoughts went through Yeosang’s mind. His eyes remained fixated on the screen in front of him, and Yeosang immediately knew what he was doing. Yeosang knew because he did it multiple times himself when you weren’t nearby: Yunho put on a video of you. He shivered hearing your low, seductive voice come from the TV speakers.

“-Oh, is that what you want, huh? And here I thought you only wanted to watch a movie with me.”

“I’d prefer to shoot a movie with you instead.”

Yunho licked his lips as you giggled at Mingi’s response. Yeosang pictured you in Mingi’s arms, likely in his bedroom, about to be ravaged. He thought about your outfit again, and the lacey underwear you wore underneath. You’d look spectacular. He swallowed thickly thinking about your nipples poking the mesh and lace fabric, ready to be licked and sucked. Yeosang is the first to admit his fondness for your tits. He loved kissing, sucking and licking them whenever given the chance. The sounds it drew out made him hard instantly. Soft moans muffled by kisses broke him from his trance, a mixture of your voice with Mingi’s low tone as he undressed you. Would he slide his dick between those tits of yours? Would you suck the tip while he tit-fucked you? Yeosang remembered when you poured oil on them, making them shiny and slippery, as you then let him fuck them. He’d oiled up the rest of you after that.

A deep groan cut off his reminiscence, and he saw Yunho biting his lower lip. He still teased himself outside his boxers. Yeosang himself enjoyed drawing it out. He never immediately jumped to jerking when he watched videos of you by yourself or with the other members. He’d lightly brush his hand over his bulge, much like he was tempted to do now. Yunho traced his outline down to the hem of his shorts, which had ridden up in his sitting position. Yeosang’s jaw dropped seeing him lightly graze the head with his fingers, then pull back the pant leg to reveal it. Nobody outside of ATEEZ and you knew about Yeosang’s sexuality; that he enjoyed both men and women. How could he not when his members had such nice cocks? He was lucky the other members also liked men, otherwise he’d be screwed.

Yunho trailing his fingers up and down his length made Yeosang’s mouth water. His own dick started pushing the fabric of his sweatpants; he felt it throb at the sight of Yunho sliding a hand up his shirt. When the man started pinching his own nipple, Yeosang did it to himself through his shirt. He saw Yunho’s soft lips, and envisioned them latched around his nipple. His hot tongue would slowly roll around them before giving a gentle suck. Yunho loved to tease.

He recalled the first time he and Yunho slept together. It’d been in their old dorm room when Yunho walked in on him masturbating. Being comfortable with one another, the confident Yunho carefully unraveled a blushing Yeosang by removing his shorts to grab his dick. He’d eventually returned the favor by licking Yunho’s nipples and stroking him to climax. The same dick that was feet from him now, being teased while Yunho watched you and Mingi on his TV screen.

“God, I love it when you play with my tits like that. It turns me on so much.”

An odd thing for you to say out loud. They all knew you enjoyed that. Wooyoung once made you come by teasing them with toys and his mouth. Yeosang knew this because he’d been there helping him.

“Turn this way, baby. Let him see them.”

‘Let him see them?’ Who? Who else was there?

“Do you like them, Yuyu?”

“Especially in my hands?”

Were they video chatting? He got his answer when Yunho spoke up.

“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, I do. Keep going just like that.”

Oh god, they were. Yeosang gulped back more saliva as he listened to Mingi continuing to play with your breasts. He wished he had a better view, but he enjoyed watching Yunho in the moment. Yeosang nearly let out an audible whimper when Yunho pulled his pant leg up more. Even just half the shaft had Yeosang drooling. Using one hand to continue teasing his tip, Yunho started palming the balls underneath. The moan he released sounded absolutely erotic. Yeosang wanted to suck those balls, lick and rub them while stroking that cock. You could join too; he never minded sharing.

Yeosang continued rubbing his nipple while his dick started making a tent in his pants. He gave it a gentle tug to relieve pressure, but this tug led to a sudden moan. One loud enough for Yunho to stop and look at the door. He saw Yunho. Yunho saw him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, not sure how to proceed. Should he pretend he saw nothing? This was meant to be a private moment between him, you and Mingi.

“Yeosangie?” Yunho called out to him, still touching himself. “Is that you? Don’t be shy. Come over here. The party’s just getting started.”

Timidly, Yeosang opened the door. Finally exposed, he couldn’t help himself from blushing at being caught. He kept himself a good distance from the bed, not meaning to intrude or interrupt.

“Come,” Yunho beckoned him over, spreading his legs further apart and patting the space, “Sit here and watch with me.”

“Yeosang is there?”

Yeosang looked at the TV, where you’d leaned into the camera to see him more closely.

“Um, uh…”

“He is,” Yunho grinned, “He was watching me. Little pervert.”

Yeosang blushed at the words, meant to be affectionate instead of insulting.

"I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to…I only heard YN and thought she was home…Don’t let me-”

“-Yeosang, shut up and get over here,” Yunho leaned to the edge and brought Yeosang closer.

Yeosang walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t sit down right away. He took in the young man laying on the bed. His nipples hardened from teasing, his dick already started blushing red as it grew harder. Need filled his round brown eyes, his pink tongue licking his lips at Yeosang. How could anyone resist such a sight? His long legs and thighs remained spread out on the bed so Yeosang could sit between them.

“Do you want to wear your collar, baby?” Yunho asked him, reaching forward to touch the bulge forming in Yeosang’s pants. “You can pick whichever one you want.” Yeosang nodded shyly, and he grinned, “They’re in the top drawer.”

Reaching the dresser drawer, he opened it to find a box labeled ‘necklaces’ across the side. Yunho carried collars of every shade and fabric available. He recognized a few right away, and picked out the one he liked the most: a pink leather collar with a heart shaped bell hanging from a hook. Yeosang knew it jingled each time Yunho’s thrusted into him. This only excited him more. Yunho chuckled at Yeosang’s choice, taking it from him when he brought it back.

“A pretty collar for a pretty boy,” he smiled, clasping it on when Yeosang bent down.

Wearing the collar boosted his excitement to the roof.

“Which one did he pick?”

“The pink one with the bell,” answered Yunho. “Sit here and get comfy.”

Yeosang absentmindedly sat between Yunho’s thighs. He could feel a distinct warmth pressed to his lower back, and resting against Yunho’s hard form built up the anticipation. He stared at the screen to see you and Mingi smirking.

“I wonder what Atinys would say if they knew how perverted Yeosang really is,” said Mingi. “Those YNteez episodes are nothing compared to what we’ve done together. Right, Yeosang?”

"Ye-yes,” he breathed.

“They’d love it,” you giggled, kneeling up to show your torso. “I think secretive perverts are hotter than obvious ones. They’re always so kinky and dirty-minded.”

You brought Mingi’s hands back to your chest where he grabbed them right away. His face buried in your neck, Mingi rolled your nipples between his fingers until you moaned. Yunho’s hands started slowly sliding up his thighs, starting on the outer sides before moving inwards towards the top. He continued doing this, his mouth close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“She looks good, huh? I told her to wear that top. It’s so sexy and Mingi really likes it on her,” he circled around Yeosang’s pulsing tip, “Her cleavage just barely shows and if she’s wearing that deep red bra, you can see more of it.”

“She’s so fucking hot…”

“She is,” he said. “It’s why we all want to fuck her when she wears it out in public. At least, I know I do,” he went further up, lifting Yeosang’s shirt to see his nipples. “Last time she wore it, I fucked her in the train station bathroom. She was already wet from me touching her on the train.”

“Fuck…”

Yunho licked the pad of his thumb and brushed it over Yeosang’s nipple. A trickle of sensitivity shot down to his center, making him squirm slightly. On the screen, he saw Mingi carefully unbuttoning your jeans. Laying longways across the bed, you lifted your hips to help him remove them, leaving you in the bra and panties. You’d pulled it down underneath your breasts, so Mingi squeezed one of them as you felt up his back on top of you. He pictured the sensations you must be feeling and how wet they made you. Yeosang imagined Mingi’s dick, only three layers apart from you, growing harder and harder. The first time they touched one another had been with you and Jongho. Not the biggest of the group, it still made Yeosang cum hard at the end. He loved sitting on it just to hear Mingi’s drawn out groan of relief.

“Who knew we’d get so lucky?” Yunho asked him, one hand toying with his nipple while the other stroked him through his sweats. “Having two big sluts in this relationship of ours? We have YN, who will open her legs whenever we like, and we have Yeosang, who bends over whenever we want. The both of you are so dirty apart,” he licked the edge of Yeosang’s ear, “But even dirtier when you’re together.”

When he looked back at the screen, Yeosang saw your back facing the camera. You’d worn the g-string thong tonight, instead of the regular panties. Your ass cheeks sticking out, the string threaded between them, you bent over the bed so Mingi could spank and grab your ass. Yeosang’s mouth dropped open when he rubbed his fingers in the middle of those cheeks, outlining the thong string that went down to your pussy. A ring light behind the camera made the scene much brighter, so he saw everything. Your soft whimpers matched his own soon enough.

“Think he’ll fuck her in the ass tonight?” asked Yunho. “I leant him a few toys to use on her if they did anal. You know how much she likes her holes being filled. I mean, what’s the point in sex if we’re not gangbanging her with toys?”

Yeosang moaned, imagining the sight. “She…She…”

“‘She’ what?”

“She always looks so good with toys inside her,” he breathed, wriggling around as Yunho finally pulled out his cock. Flushed red, the veins continued pumping blood through it so it hardened. “I hope he does use them. Her ass is even nicer with a-with a plug in it.”

“Don’t worry, Yeosang,” said Mingi from the screen. “She’ll get a toy in there soon.”

“Oh god, yes!”

Mingi placed a few well timed spanks on either cheek. Yeosang did not know who he’d rather be: you or Mingi?

“Do you want a plug in you too?” asked Yunho in his ear. “Or do you want that vibrating sleeve you like so much?”

Lord, the sleeve. A single band of two vibrating bullets that Yunho straps to his shaft then turns on always leaves Yeosang drooling. Yunho chuckled hearing Yeosang’s whiny groan. “How about we start off slow?” he emphasized this with a gradual tug of his dick. “Hm? I want to see how hard you can get before I use my toys. Like I told YN once,” he pressed his lips to Yeosang’s ear, drowning out any other sound, “I like to make sweet, pretty things cum all over my toys.”

This nearly took the breath out of Yeosang. But, then the sound of you moaning caught his attention again. Mingi and you mirrored his and Yunho’s position against the headboard. Mingi had finally stuck his hand in your panties, and the touch alone had you grabbing his arms. His other hand massaged your breast, grazing a thumb over your nipple repeatedly. Yeosang would give anything to be there with you, lapping at your soaked cunt while stroking Mingi’s hardon. He’d pleasure both of you until you could barely comprehend anything else. Yunho could even film it before joining in himself. Yeosang’s arousal brought on a slew of dirty images, and Yunho’s dirty talk added to them.

“Isn’t she beautiful like that?” Yunho asked him, thumb swirling over the head. “Her pussy so wet it's seeping through her panties and her nipples hard to the touch? Oh, look what Mingi’s pulled out.”

Yeosang noticed Mingi quickly reach into a drawer and withdraw a short body wand. He couldn’t really hear the low vibrations, but he heard your high-pitched whining. Thighs and legs shaking, you remained still as Mingi slipped the toy in your underwear. The waistband keeping it in place, Mingi started rapidly rolling your nipples.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Yunho moaned. Yeosang felt him start grinding into his back, his full length nestled between the both of them. “But, I know someone who’s equally hot.”

Yeosang helped remove his pants and boxers, leaving his bottom half naked and exposed. Yunho moaned as he felt up and down Yeosang’s thighs again to see his cock twitch up to his stomach. He placed soft kisses along Yeosang’s shoulder as the other man gripped the knees on either side of him. Yeosang couldn’t help but push back into the cock against his tailbone. He did not protest when Yunho took out a bottle of lubricant, and coated his entire length in it.

“So pretty and shiny,” he moaned in his ear again, observing the cock glistening in the half light. “Just like when your mistress drools and spits all over it.”

“Oh god…Sir…”

The title made Yunho breathe deeply. “I’m your dom tonight, hm? Because your mistress isn’t home?”

“If you…If you want to be.”

“I very much do,” he answered. “I told you as much before you went to bed.”

Your whimpering moan caught their attention. You started trembling, holding Mingi’s hand tightly as he slid the wand up and down your pussy rapidly. However, you then broke away from Mingi and grabbed the camera. Clearly a phone on a tripod now, you placed it in front of your pussy. Yeosang groaned at the close up shot, saliva building up when Mingi finally pulled the thong aside. He put the toy aside, and used both hands to rub the wet lips.

“Fuck,” Yunho panted, “Look at how wet she is already. I’d love to have that sitting on my face, don’t you?”

“Ye-y-ye-yes.”

“Remember the time we shared a room, and she sat on my face while you rode my dick?” he asked, adding more lubricant to Yeosang’s balls below. “How you both made out on top of me? I’d love to do that again. I love having the two biggest sluts in our group in my dorm…ready to be fucked and used at my whims.”

“Oh my god…” Yeosang held onto Yunho’s thighs and continued grinding into him. “That was so hot,” he answered, “I’d love to do it again.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled, “I’m going to hold you to that, pretty baby. When that woman comes home tomorrow, you two better clear your schedules,” he kissed his ear once more, giving his dick a squeeze, “Because I’m going to fuck you both like the whores you are.”

“Yes,” Yeosang breathed, “Yes, please, fuck me.”

“I will, baby boy,” he cooed. “I will. I just want to play with your body for a little longer. Can you hold it off for me until then?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Yunho finally reached over to his bedside table where he’d been keeping the vibrating sleeve. Yeosang watched with bated breath as Mingi spread your lips apart and used a single digit to tease your clit. He’d suck those fingers just to get a taste of you. He’d eat that pussy for a taste of your sweetness. Yunho grabbed a silicone connected cock ring.

“Sit on your hands for me,” Yunho directed, pleased when Yeosang immediately did it. “I’m going to put this cock ring on you first, so you don’t cum too quickly.”

He watched Yunho slip his dick and then his balls through the two rings. He gave Yeosang’s length a few more strokes before finally pulling the vibrating sleeve over it. He slid the tube right to the middle of his shaft, leaving his tip for Yunho to tease and squeeze at his leisure. Mingi started fingering you, his long fingers filling your heat slowly. He occasionally circled them around your clit before pushing them deep inside you again. The mewls and moans you let out made Yeosang’s cock stand up all the way. The pleasure heightened once Yunho turned the toy on a low setting. The vibrations sent down to his cock rings, adding more pleasure to it.

“Yes, just like that,” he heard you say, “Finger me just like that.”

“Am I making you feel good, Mistress?”

“You are.” You then said, “Are you using a toy on our Yeosangie, Yunho?”

“I am, YN,” he answered, “You should see him.”

You pulled the camera from your pussy to you and Mingi. Seeing Yeosang half naked, succumbing to the sleeve on his dick, the both of you melted at the sight of him. Mingi clearly began fingering you quicker as you watched Yeosang and Yunho.

“He looks so pretty,” you whined, “My sweet prince leaking and moaning like that. Does it feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, spreading his legs farther to make room for Yunho’s hands. Adding even more lubricant, Yunho massaged both testicles and sack. “It feels so good, Mistress. It feels so fucking good.”

“Do you wish we were there?” asked Mingi, kissing your shoulder.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“I told him I’m going to fuck you both tomorrow, YN,” Yunho said.

“Really?” you asked hopefully, “Can Mingi come too?”

“Of course. We’ll tell the group, and anyone who wants to join can come over.” He kissed the spot beneath Yeosang’s ear and said, “Have a little Yeosang-centric gangbang. You always looked so pretty whenever one of us came all over you. I remember the pictures,” he breathed deeply, using Yeosang’s precum to coat his tip. “Seonghwa-hyung’s fat cock splitting you open or San sticking his tongue inside. I saved the one of Jongho fucking both you and Wooyoung, and you moaning like a bitch in heat. Our slutty baby boy is always so eager to fuck us. You were YN before there was a YN.”

Mingi laid you on your back, straddling your chest and sliding his dick between your tits. He’d added lubricant or oil at some point, but Yeosang caught sight of a particular shine on them. Yeosang nearly came, but held himself back. You suckled the head just like you did with him, keeping your eyes on the camera.

“Titty fucking,” Yunho said, “Your favorite. You think he’ll cum on them?”

“I hope so…”

“I will if you’re a good boy,” you said, having heard him. “You sit there and do whatever Yunho says, and if you don’t cum,” you sucked Mingi’s tip hard enough to make him moan, “Then Mingi will cum on my titties for you, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to be good and not cum?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?” you buried Mingi between your breasts as much as possible, and Yeosang imagined you doing it to him.

“I prom-m-mise.”

“Suck my dick,” Yunho ordered, “I want those lips on my dick now.”

Yeosang trembled as he crawled from Yunho, who removed his shirt and shorts. He helped Yeosang out of his shirt, but not before landing several passionate kisses on him. Once he removed Yeosang’s hoodie and shirt, he bent down to suck and nibble his nipples. Kneeling on the bed, profiles facing the camera, you could watch them make out and continue teasing each other. Yeosang clenched his jaw as he reached down to Yunho’s heavy, throbbing dick. When he pressed his toy to Yunho, the other groaned loudly and began rocking into it.

“I want you to suck it, baby,” Yunho told him, laying back against the headboard and stroking himself. "And don’t take it out.”

He never said it out loud, but Yeosang thought his dick looked delicious. Red, underside vein standing out against the smooth flesh, and leaking precum, Yeosang immediately licked right up to the slit. Yunho’s groan matched Mingi’s on TV. Laying right at Yunho’s hips, Yeosang began hungrily sucking Yunho’s cock. Salty precum spilled onto his tongue at the first touch, and he eagerly swallowed it.

“Don’t take it out of your mouth, sweetie,” you instructed. “You keep that in there for me.”

Yeosang did as you asked. No matter how much drool and spit it made, Yeosang’s head continued bobbing up and down. The bell on his collar clinked lightly in each bob of his head, adding to the arousal in the room. He couldn’t stop himself now. The suppressed desires finally broke through the surface, and all he wanted to do was serve Yunho. His moans became louder when Yunho spread his ass cheeks apart. He breathed heavily once cool lubricant trickled over his hole, and a warm finger started circling the entrance. Yeosang quivered at the light touch, large hands grabbing and smacking his ass cheeks every so often before returning to his hole. The teasing finger and the vibrator on his dick had Yeosang desperate for an orgasm.

“Keep watching, baby,” Yunho said, cupping Yeosang’s balls for a tender feeling. “I think things are starting to get interesting.”

He then angled himself so Yunho remained in his mouth while he watched the TV.

“I need you to relax for me, okay?” you asked Mingi, gradually stroking him as your fingers rubbed further down. “It won’t hurt if you stay still.”

“O-Okay…”

He realized what you were doing, and whimpered. You gave Mingi a few more slow strokes before reaching for a toy nearby. He recognized the black prostate massager you often used on him. You held the camera at an angle where they both saw the toy slide easily into Mingi, who immediately became a whining mess. Yeosang groaned at the finger sliding around his entrance threatened to slide inside. He wanted it so badly. He went far too long without a proper orgasm, and he knew Yunho could give him one. He always did.

“There we go, good boy,” you praised Mingi, who did his best to remain spread out and not touch himself. That was when Yeosang realized something: you’d cuffed Mingi to the bed. He’d kill to be Mingi. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” he whined, stomach tensing each time the toy pressed to his g-spot. A very faint buzzing told Yeosang you’d turned on the vibrating function. He cried when you continued stroking him.

You placed the tripod on the bedside where he got a sideways view of you both. Mingi tied to the bed, a toy vibrating inside him, he was helpless to stop you from sitting on his face. Your reversed position had your ass right on him as you rocked back and forward.

“Lick it for me,” you moaned, pinching your nipple and keeping your hand on his cock. “Be a good boy and start using that tongue on me.”

And Mingi did. Yeosang sucked Yunho firmly in his moaning, hips bucking as the sleeve continued vibrating softly in well-timed pulsations. He started using his hand in a twisting motion as he greedily sucked the tip.

“Fuck yes,” Yunho breathed, head tilting back. “Like that. Like that, baby.”

Yunho then slid two fingers into his ass. The sudden plunge made Yeosang yelp around the shaft in his mouth, but he soon settled into it as Yunho started at a slow pace. Using one hand, Yeosang stroked Yunho in a twisting motion while he kept sucking in tandem. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm approaching, tightening his abdomen yet stuck right between dick and balls. His quivering thighs clued Yunho into what was going on. To avoid it happening, Yunho turned off the vibrator which was absolute torture. He whined his displeasure around Yunho, who started pushing his fingers right to Yeosang’s prostate.

“Look at the screen, baby,” Yunho moaned, thrusting up into Yeosang’s mouth. “Look at what they’re doing.”

You still sat on Mingi’s face, but this time you’d bent forward to start pulling and pushing the plug inside him. Mingi shuddered each time you pushed inwards, moaning against your pussy as he sucked it. Enthralled by desire, Yeosang nearly came at the picture of your ass bouncing against Mingi’s face. He wished he could be there pleasuring you too. He loved bringing you to orgasm every time with just his mouth and fingers.

“Do you like what you see, Yeosangie?”

He nodded, moaning when you started sucking Mingi’s red, leaking tip. Eyes heavy with lust, you laid there using Mingi’s face and cock to pleasure yourself. He is only a toy right now. A toy meant to please his mistress, just like Yeosang is meant for Yunho’s pleasure.

“Do you want to be filled too?” Yunho asked gently, putting his fingers in knuckle deep. “With something bigger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yeosang finally pulled his mouth away, cheeks and jaw slightly burning. Yunho turned so his head faced the foot of the bed to give the couple on the screen a perfect view of Yeosang. He couldn’t wait. The desperation left Yeosang with very little care. Yunho aligned himself with Yeosang’s body, and let him slide down on it. While the stretch did take him by surprise, it brought a bout of relief that also pushed his arousal. Hands on Yunho’s chest, he began rubbing his thumb over Yunho’s nipples as he slowly rocked on top of him. Your own raspy, needy moans started coming through the speakers, Mingi’s muffled groans following soon after. When Yunho flicked the switch back on, the vibrating sleeve drove Yeosang senseless. All he could focus on was the pleasure pulsing inside him.

He could hardly move, instead letting Yunho take control and push up into him.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” Yunho awed, sliding the sleeve up and down Yeosang’s length until his eyes rolled back, “Is my dick that good?”

Yeosang let out several whiny moans as Yunho pumped in and out quickly.

“Answer his question,” you encouraged him. You took up the body wand to slide up and down Mingi’s shaft. He saw Mingi’s thighs and legs tremble each time you circled his head. “Is his dick so good you can barely speak?”

“Yes,” he panted, starting to bounce on top of Yunho, “Yes, yes, yes.”

That's all he could say as Yunho settled himself into a lower position, grabbed Yeosang’s hips, and guided him. Yeosang saw him reach out for the small phone tripod and place it on his lower stomach. Now, you and Mingi had a perfect view of Yeosang’s leaking member wagging up and down in every thrust. He held it upwards, using the sleeve to add more pressure, and your mouth fell open.

“My special boys are leaking so much,” you moaned, licking up fluids sliding down Mingi’s cock. “I wonder how much longer they can last before they’re making big messes of themselves.”

“Mistress, please,” Yeosang caught Mingi’s pleading words. “Please fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck you, Mingi?” you asked in a fake surprised tone. “But I’m having so much fun teasing you like this. Your dick is so nice all hard and twitching. It’d be a shame to stop all of that now.”

“Please!”

Your giggle must’ve filled Mingi with desperation. No. He wouldn’t be getting his orgasm any time soon. He’d have to earn it, and he knew that. Hearing your moan suddenly grow louder, and seeing Mingi’s bury his face between your thighs, he knew Mingi planned on earning it the only way he knew how.

“You’re doing such a good job, pet,” Yunho smiled, sitting up to let Yeosang hold onto him as he rode. Arms wrapped around his waist, Yunho cupped both ass cheeks and spread them apart. “Your tight little hole feels so good squeezing my dick. Are you making it extra tight just for me?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing his cheeks so his walls hugged the cock inside him. “I want to make you feel…feel good, Sir.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you keep going just like this,” he tugged Yeosang’s head back by pulling on the back of the collar, “I might just cum inside you. I know how much you like being cummed in…just like your mistress.”

The yank of the collar cut off a bit of air, nearly choking him, and Yeosang loved the restriction. His moans struggled to get through the collar, but they came in an endless loop of curses and mumbled words.

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi,” your voice caught his attention and he looked over Yunho’s shoulder. “You wanted to fuck me so bad, go ahead. My pussy’s right there. Why aren’t you putting it in?”

Yeosang saw you’d knelt just high enough that Mingi’s tip touched only your folds. When Mingi desperately pushed his hips upwards, only his head went inside you. This clearly drove Mingi wild. His arousal took over all sense and he’d do anything to be sheathed inside you. Even with a condom on him-as expected-Mingi shuddered when you slid your clit over the throbbing tip.

‘Mingi…Baby, I thought you wanted to fuck me. You need to put it in me to do that.”

“I bet you wanna fuck her really badly, huh?” Yunho asked, squeezing the vibrator against Yeosang’s cock until he screamed. “Like the way I’m fucking you?”

Yeosang muttered a reply, dazed and drooling now. Not getting a real response, Yunho lifted Yeosang and flipped him onto his back. “Do you want to fuck your mistress like this,” he said, pounding into Yeosang so their hips snapped together, “And make her cum all over your dick?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Answer me properly,” he slowed down, keeping himself hilt-deep inside.

“I wan…I wan-want to fu…fuck her like thi-is-s,” he managed to reply, eyes fully shut and body turned into putty in Yunho’s hands.

“Good,” he bent down over Yeosang, kissing and sucking his neck as he talked. “Your mistress deserves only the best dick,” he turned off the sleeve again and gently thrusted into him, “Just like you do.” He captured Yeosang’s lips with him, and kissed him deeply. Sloppy with tongue, the kiss alone made Yeosang mewl pathetically. “I meant what I said,” he hooked his fingers on the collar to keep him still as they kissed, “I’m going to fuck you tomorrow. Mingi is going to fuck you. YN is going to fuck you. Our prince is going to get as much dick as he wants.”

The thought had Yeosang drooling. He pushed himself into Yunho to get him further inside, pressing on the g-spot over and over again. “Ye-y-yes-s oh god!”

“Oooh, look at you go,” he chuckled, “So cock drunk you can barely talk.”

He turned on the vibrator a third time on a higher setting, and Yeosang let out high-pitched wails. His fingers dug into the covers underneath him, trying to keep himself grounded as Yunho fucked him. Yeosang didn’t know how much longer he could go on before he broke completely. He wanted to cum, but it felt too good to stop.

“I wan-want to-to cum,” he cried, eyes watering from the pressure. “Ple-please.”

“Then go ahead, baby,” Yunho said, pushing the vibrator right against his tip. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

Yeosang felt himself finally reaching orgasm. He could almost taste the sensation rolling up to his balls. He parted his legs wider, giving Yunho full permission to go as deep as possible, and moaned louder.

“Come on,” Yunho urged, “You wanted to cum, right? Go on.”

But it never came. The cock ring kept it from happening. It was even worse when Yunho turned off the sleeve and pulled out at the last second. He laughed watching Yeosang writhe and cry underneath him.

“Aw, what happened, baby?” he pouted, pulling out to rub himself against Yeosang’s groin, “I thought you were going to cum for me?”

“I can-can’t.”

“Why not?”

He knew why not. “I ha-a-av-ve…”

“Have what?”

“The-t-the rings!”

“Oh, that’s right!” he smacked his forehead, “You have cock rings on. I totally forgot,” he smirked, giving a low chuckle as he slipped back inside. “You can’t cum with those on, can you?”

“No!”

Meanwhile, on the screen, you held the mini tripod to where you and Mingi met. You’d finally given in and let him fully fill you. All the bravado from before slowly peeled away as Mingi pushed in and out of you quickly. Yeosang wanted to bring you pleasure like that, and he planned on it.

“I don’t know if your mistress wants you to finish before she does,” Yunho said, sliding the toy up and down his shaft without turning it on. “It’s not right to cum before your partner. Maybe we should ask.” He grabbed the tripod on the table at the end, and raised it above Yeosang, who stared into it pleadingly. “YN, should I let Yeosang cum?”

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you think, Mingi?”

“Nobody should cum before you do, Mistress,” Mingi answered, panting and whining as he continued thrusting. Yeosang watched you bend down to unhook his bindings and lay on your back. Mingi’s hands ended up back on your breasts, which you held there as he raised your legs and went back into you. “Not before you.”

You didn’t say anything back. Impaled on his dick, your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations.

“You heard them,” Yunho said to Yeosang, withdrawing once more to roll him onto his stomach. He rested on top, hand reaching around to turn on the vibrator again. “Only when your mistress comes.”

Yunho slipped back inside him, keeping one leg up for access to the vibrator on Yeosang’s cock. His pace matched Mingi’s on screen, the both of them almost moaning together as they fucked their respective partners. He'd never done anything so erotic before. The smuttiness alone had him reaching to the end again, but he knew he'd only be denied again. Yeosang’s fingers curled into the bed spread, balling it up to keep himself from succumbing as pleasure numbed him to every other sense. Soon enough, he heard your breathy moans grow louder, being sounded through gritted teeth as your orgasm hit you hard. He looked to see you in a similar position to him, hunched and frozen in place as Mingi helped your climax along to the end. That was when Yunho gingerly removed a ring and massaged Yeosang’s balls once more.

He then let go.

All over Yunho’s sheets.

Hard, paralyzing, and desensitizing orgasms rocked Yeosang’s body. If any of the other members heard him, they’d know exactly what Yunho was doing to him. Heat rose up around his neck and ears, eyes squeezing shut as streams of white shot from his tip. Yunho halfway rolled him onto his side so everyone could see the thick, white strings dripping from Yeosang’s cock. The sleeve suddenly became too much against the sensitive muscle, and Yeosang wriggled as Yunho kept stroking him even once his orgasm subsided. Just because he’d finished didn’t mean Yunho was done.

Mingi and Yunho finished almost in perfect unison. Both men charged faster and harder, only withdrawing once they’d gotten right to the edge. Yeosang laid on his back, elbows propping him up, as he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue. Yunho, kneeling over him, quickly jerked himself over him until he finally came. He kept his eyes locked on him the entire time, not moving or daring to turn away. Yunho, sweaty and panting, aimed right for Yeosang’s tongue and got it nearly every time. The streaks that fell onto Yeosang’s chin or cheeks were eagerly licked up and swallowed.

“Yummy…” Yeosang smirked, licking some he’d swiped off his cheek.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said, breathing heavily and pushing his tip to Yeosang’s mouth. The low groan he gave once Yeosang started sucking again would’ve been enough to make him want a second round. “Plenty….Plenty more…But, let me clean you up. I didn’t get a taste before.”

Yeosang laid back as Yunho removed the sleeve and started licking up his shaft. Little twinges of pleasure followed the bundles of nerves his tongue sparked. Clearly, you had a similar idea since Yeosang turned to see you stroking and sucking Mingi dry…on your back…your breasts still in view. He held his breath when he saw translucent streaks on your breasts and chest. He whimpered seeing droplets of cum squirt out when you pressed the head to your nipples. Mingi, clearly being overstimulated, did nothing but moan as you played with his cock. With Yunho’s warm mouth sucking him slowly, he laid there watching Mingi’s dick be buried between your breasts. God, you really knew how to keep him going. He knew he’d be a dead man if you did that to him, especially right now.

“Feel better, Yeosangie?” Yunho asked, still near his crotch, and smiling. “Or do you want to go again?”

“I…” he breathed deeply and realized how sticky he must be. He grabbed a towel Yunho kept in a cabinet next to his bed, and sat up to wipe his face. “I feel great,” he finally sighed, “So much better.”

“Me too.”

Yunho helped him clean up, occasionally breaking it to kiss him, and they looked at the couple on the screen. Yeosang’s legs felt like jelly, so he was more than sure yours felt the same way. Yet, somehow, you were standing and wiping your chest with a wet towel. Your eyes locked with his and you both smiled. Mingi came into the shot, putting his arms around you and kissing you deeply. He only broke away to mutter a question, and when you nodded, he picked up the tripod and brought you to the bathroom.

“I guess we’re taking this party to our bathroom,” Yunho grinned at him, picking up their mini tripod as well.

Yeosang, standing on wobbly legs, followed him to their bathroom. As Yunho and Mingi set up their showers, you and Yeosang sat on the toilets with the tripods in hand.

“How was your date, babe?” Yeosang asked casually, resting his head in his hand as he waited.

“It was nice,” you replied. He could tell by your hazy eyes you’re slowly surrendering to your exhaustion. “We didn’t do anything particularly crazy. We watched movies, ate snacks, ordered take-out and got coffee. Ooh, he did buy this new game he wanted to play with me, so we did that too.”

“What game?”

The two of you idly chatted. Yeosang loved talking to you after sex. You always acted as if the rigorous sex did not tire you out, but he knew it did. He wished he could cuddle you. Falling asleep between your soft body and Yunho’s hard one sounded like heaven. Both of your showers ready, Yeosang stepped into his with Yunho and you stepped into yours with Mingi. What started off as simple scrubbing became much more when Yunho brought Yeosang to his chest. Lips on his neck, Yunho started lathering the body wash up and down Yeosang’s petite body.

“Still want more, pretty?” Yunho asked him, using both hands to stroke Yeosang’s cock. Waves of pleasure pinched the sensitive nerves there, which aroused Yeosang more. “I’ll be more than happy to give it to you here.”

“Sir…”

The slippery bubbles made it easy for Yunho’s thumbs to circle his nipples. Yeosang pushed his ass against the cock pressing on him.

“Again, Yeosangie?” you laughed in your own shower, against the wall as Mingi trailed kisses up your neck. “You boys are insatiable.”

“Only because our owners are so beautiful,” he heard Mingi say. “May I at least keep kissing and touching you? I want to be close to you.”

“Of course you can.”

You soaped Mingi up as he kissed and touched your body. Yeosang imagined you must be very slippery. Holding him close, Yunho and Yeosang gently washed one another. Bath poufs grazing over nipples or hands sliding up and over ass cheeks, both men gradually became hard again. Yeosang heard your soft moans over the running water and saw Mingi charging into you from behind once more. Both Yeosang and Yunho started stroking one another in earnest, Yunho slipping two fingers back into Yeosang’s bottom. They stayed in this position, squeezing and jerking, before they came once more. Each of them pointed the other upwards to shoot all over their stomachs. This second orgasm came harder, their orgasms bouncing off the tiled walls in the enclosed space.

“Yeosang…” Yunho breathed, forehead pressed to his as he came down from his high, “You’re so…”

“Arousing? Desirable? Horny?” Yeosang suggested, unable to stop himself from touching the tender Yunho still. “I only want to make my owner happy.”

“You make me very, very, very happy, pretty,” he said, briefly kissing his lips a few times. “Let’s get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

After a warm shower in Yunho’s gentle embrace, Yeosang was on cloud nine. “Tired, honey?” you asked him when you were all in your beds.

“So tired.”

“Now, you’ll sleep like a baby,” said Yunho, bringing him close and kissing his cheek.

“Me too,” you yawned as Mingi encompassed you, snuggling close as he nuzzled your neck again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, already drifting to sleep.

Saying your farewells, Yunho ended the call and put his phone aside. Yeosang knew he should attempt to clean the bed, but he fell so deep into his relaxation, he didn’t want to do anything. Thankfully, Yunho didn’t say anything about it. He only turned off the lights, and shut his eyes.

He wondered who he'd be waking up to tomorrow.

*****

A/N: another steamy installment! I really let my self-indulgence get the better of me with this one. I hope y'all still like it <3 More coming soon!

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #song mingi #yunsang #yunho x yeosang #yunho ateez #yeosang ateez #mingi ateez #ateez fluff #ot8 x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader

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localkiss · 1 month

Text

Princess Sprinkles!

Vendetta Chris Redfield x fem reader!

cw: dd/lg, creampie, squirting (guys idk how squirting feels like....), multiple orgasms (reader), fingering, pet names, praise kink, oral fixation (reader obv), light mentions of breeding, soft dom!Chris!!, afab terms used, size kink ish.., Chris being silly, Chris being a lil mean one time, and some fluff :3 !! — Lmk if I missed anything.

wc: 2005 !! (🤭 birth year go crazyy LOL!)

notes: if you don't like ddlg just um. Idk don't read 💀!! I fr try not to make the reader teeny tiny but like dude Chris is huge asf.. size kink go brrr 🧎🏻‍♀️! I'll be making reader a lil squishy from now on bc I'm not skinny either ☝🏻.Also I used to watch the Bratz babyz movie on repeat sm that the disc got ruined 😭😭 soo.. yes that part is directly from yours truly! Not proof read 😵‍💫

tags: @argreion, @rigorwhoring bc ily guys 😇!!

"Daddy!" You squeal as soon as Chris picks you up and spins you around. Making your fluffy mini pleated skirt twirl upwards.

Chris hoists your pretty body over his shoulders and pats you on the butt, practically skipping towards your shared bedroom. It looks like someone dumped all the squishmallows possible into the master bedroom. He can't help but think of you every time he sees a stuffed animal. Shits rooted in his brain. Stuffies = his angel!

Yeah, he might have to fight with them to make room for himself, but he wouldn't trade it for any other way. He doesn't actually fight them, knowing you'd throw a hissy fit and say "Hate daddy! Forever 'n ever!" Chris's heart shatters like glass whenever you say that.

He's grown softer because of you and those little threats of yours make his heart drop down to the core of the Earth. Would he admit it to team Alpha? No. Never in a million years. But they've got eyes and ears, they're not Patrick Star. Dumb and living under a rock.

Lately he's been covered in hickeys and cute little doodles that're supposed to be like tattoos by yours truly. Goes to work and gets teased by his squad, telling him how you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger. How much you've changed him, for the better. He always shrugs them off, putting them back to work.

You for sure made Chris cut back on smoking a fuck ton. Constantly crying about how the stench will ruin your stuffies and the coat the walls of the house with a film. You're right, that's for sure. And the fact that second hand smoke is even worse is what clicks it into his head for him. His baby. His sweetheart, could end up dying because of his stupid ass habits.

Chris has lost too many of his men because of his habits. Too many good men. You are his savior. He pounds away the guilt into your needy little cunt. Constantly craving him. Needing him. Loving him. Honest to God, he needs that more than anything in this lifetime.

"Sweetheart," he sighs and sets you down onto the bed. "I missed you. Whatcha been up to?"

"Slept 'n colored and um... Ate some snackies, watch movie, 'n had lotsa juice!" You mumble, eyes glancing around the entire room. Using your hands to talk, as your words get slurred when you're in this state of mind.

Chris presses a faint kiss to your temple and noses down to the underside of your ear. Carefully holding the back of your head with his hand. He gives you more kisses and blows raspberries into your ear, making you squeal and swat at him.

"That's good baby. Glad you had a productive day." Chris smiles at you lovingly.

Your heart then swoons, making you feel all mushy inside. Praise gets him everything from you. Just like you crying out for daddy gets you everything from him!

He lazily starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling it through the loops. Setting it down on the bedside table with a thud. He starts to undo his fly, pushing his pants all the way down, kicking out of them.

Only dressed in his boxers and shirt, he engulfs you with a hug. Nuzzling into your neck, feeling your hands grab ahold of his shirt.

"Daddy?"

"Just recharging honey, hold on." His voice is deep and gruffy, sending chills up your spine.

You lay there, body buzzing with warmth as his figure presses you into the mattress. His hips shift and move against yours, causing you to gasp.

Thighs squeezing against his fit waist and he sighs into your neck. "Daddy's not charge. He excited..." Your fingers tug on his shirt and he sits up.

"Off?" Pointing to his shirt and you clumsily remove your own shirt and skirt. Now both of you are only in your underwear. Well, you still have your white thigh highs on, but still.

He presses your thighs up to your chest and settles in the middle as best as he can. Feeling his skin on your skin feels like heaven. Makes your panties wet, which he's noticed but doesn't want to say anything about it. Knowing you get all shy and embarrassed when he points things out like that. He likes it. Thinks it's cute that you want skin ship.

"So pretty baby," he pushes his hips forward. His cock catching onto your clit with each slow roll. "Pretty pussy, pretty tits. Pretty girl. My pretty girl."

Chris leans back and gets rid of his boxers. Pulling your panties up to slip his cock between your folds. Laying back down on top of you. Humping you instead of fucking you.

You can't complain, his tip his pressing against your clit nicely. Your hips rolling up to meet his and his dick slips inside.

He bottoms out immediately with a growl. "Baby. Did I say you could put it in?" Chastising you with a rough thrust, acting like it's your fault his dick slipped inside of your tiny hole.

"Daddy, didn't mean to. Not m'fault," you whine out, kicking your legs.

"S'okay. Daddy will make it all better." Chris presses a kiss to your forehead and acts like he's going to pull it out. Only to harshly thrust it back into you. "Fuck, princess. She's not wanting to let me go. You hear her crying for me?"

Moaning, you dig your nails into his back, "Daddy, daddy, never leave," you start babbling already.

He groans and rabbits his hips, making the bed rock against the wall.

"Wait, daddy, stuffies no want look, turn," you try to speak as he continues to fuck you like he hates you.

"Shit, okay baby. Hold on," he grunts and turns them around as best as he can. "Better now?"

You nod and go in for a kiss and he meets you halfway. Drooling into your mouth and your tongues swirl together before you suck on his. Moaning as he drives himself deeper inside of you. Squelching sounds and skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. Surely you guys won't get a noise complaint this time!

He spits into your mouth and smears it all over your lips with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Who needs a pacifier when you've got daddy's thumb?

Watching your eyes flutter shut and your lips wrapping around his thumb, it sets him off. His other hand driving down between you both and rubbing harshly at your puffy nub.

Biting down, you furrow your eyebrows. Breathing quickly and moaning softly. "Close," you hum around his digit. Sucking on it as you get closer and closer.

Chris's dick hits a special spot inside of you and your body shakes underneath him. Pussy trying to push out his cock as a clear liquid shoots out of you.

"Goddamn, baby, squirting on me, mmhh—fuck..." His hips falter and he dumps his cum inside of you. Resting his body on you, burying you into the bed. Making sure his cum never leaves you.

Chris pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you feverishly. "Putting a baby in you, s'that alright princess?" Your pussy agrees by clenching around his thickness.

But he's acting like you've got a choice, since he's already done the deed. He pulls you up into his arms and you guys slowly make your way to the bath. Still connected and full.

Keeping you in his arms, he reaches down to turn on the water and put in the plug. You giggle and some of his cum starts to spurt out and drip down his balls. He settles in the tub with you on his lap, grabbing the soap to fill it with bubbles.

Chris slowly lifts you off of his length and sets you between his legs. Back pressed against his hairy chest. While his cum dribbles out of you.

His fingers make their way down to your sensitive cunt and slowly dips them inside. "Shh, I know baby," pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you whine and claw weakly at his forearms. The other one is keeping you pressed against him.

"Daddy's helping you baby," he starts to curl his fingers and your legs shake. Clearly overstimulated from earlier. But Chris starts to be a bit greedy, smacking his palm against your pretty little pearl.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, he coaxes you into another orgasm. With the disguise of helping you get his cum out. If anything, he's trying to fuck it back into. Serious about putting a mini him or you inside of your tummy.

"Baby, almost there. Y'got it princess.. mmh.. cum one more time for daddy? Promise I'll clean you up and get us some donuts with sprinkles on 'em, just the way you like." Man, he's even bribing you! Daddy knows what you really want right now. So you whimper in response.

"Daddy, mmhhff... Daddy oh god! Please, please, please!" Your heels dig into the tub as the water fills it. His lips sucking and biting into your neck is what makes you cream around his digits.

Body convulsing and breath raggedy and higher as you come down from your second high of the night. Chris grabs your face and kisses you all over, mumbling praises into your skin. "Good girl, daddy's so proud of you."

Then, he takes his time washing you off, letting you play with the rubber duckies and splashing water onto him. Putting bubbles on his beard and making one for yourself.

"I daddy! See?" You pout and furrow your eyebrows, taking a drag of an imaginary cigarette. Chris rolls his brown eyes and takes the imaginary cigarette and puts it out.

"Babies can't do that stuff, remember? Only daddies can do that, silly baby girl." He wipes the bubbles off of your face and his, nibbling on your earlobe. Making chewing noises, "Om nom nom, my baby tastes so yummy!"

You squeal and press your face into your shoulder. "Daddy! Got wash so we can eat nummy donut! Donut sprinkle!"

He hums and gets to work. Gently washing your back and hair as you wash your front side and down to your toes. Chris hauls you up and he turns on the shower to wash your hair and his. God knows he needs this shower after training his new squad mates today.

Chris washes his own figure as you cup the water in your tiny hands and splash it up in the air. Watching you pretend you have powers as the water runs down your arms and to the tips of your fingers.

"Alright princess. Let's go get some sprinkled donuts," he pats your heart shaped ass with a chuckle. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel, he gets to work drying you off. It reminds you of that Bratz babyz movie. Sure reminds him of it too. From how often you guys watched it, the CD stopped working and you threw a fit.

So of course, he bought a couple more, just in case. It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. So why not keep his baby sated with something so simple as a 2000s movie? He even bought you some Bratz dolls and monster high ones. Likes how you squeal and jump around in excitement every time he buys you something so simple as a doll. Makes him happy.

"Princess sprinkles and daddy sprinkles! Getting donut sprinkles! Sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles!" You laugh as he puts on your blue matching cinnamoroll pajamas that he spent fifty dollars on. Worth it in his opinion. Looks so cute on you, he can't help but press kisses all over your cheeks.

"Alright, alright, princess sprinkles. Let's go get in the car. Daddy'll buy you all the chocolate sprinkled donuts there is at the bakery." Chris's heart thumps in his chest. Yeah, there's a sprinkled shaped hole with a sprinkle version of you in his heart.

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #chris resident evil #resident evil chris #chris smut #chris redfield #resident evil vendetta #resident evil fanfiction #fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #localkiss

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kaeichi · 2 months

Text

love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. no gendered terms, but some implications of m! reader. reader likes boys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

a/n. repost bc it wasnt showing up in tags T-T i js want a shoujo anime w these two as the MLs...

prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03

⊹ 01 : my dear partner [wc: 4.7k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“…dude. you're scaring all the hoes away.”

nagi watches your lips move, though he barely registers anything you've been saying since he has stopped listening a while ago—which, honestly, comes as no surprise to anyone.

there’s no real reason to be so lethargic at this hour (it's already late noon, plus he surprisingly had a decent amount of sleep the previous night for once), nor the time to think about trivial things, but he can’t help but think about how exactly every single thing stopped being so bothersome like it used to.

he can't quite pinpoint what brought on this gradual change, but if he had to, then it’d probably be three springs ago—when he’d wake up a little earlier than usual to the gentle kiss of the sun through his window and the cherry blossoms were in perfect bloom. around that time is when he’d received his quiet companion choki, he’d finally scored top 1 in the leaderboards after months and months of grinding in his favorite mobile game, and… when you’d first sat next to him in middle school.

for as long as he remembers, you were simply just there. an unexpected oddity that has not only forced its way through, but has also wedged firmly into every aspect in his life. and somehow, he’d concluded that maybe some things weren't so bad—that some things weren't such a hassle to him after all.

“move, idiot. at this point you might as well hold my hand.” the snow-haired male barely hears your voice over his wandering thoughts, stumbling from the light shove you give him. he has now become acutely aware of your swinging hand, wary of the close proximity and the faint buzz of static that lingers on his skin. huh. maybe it is better to move away.

still, he’d rather not reposition himself. it’s too much work, he’d like to reason, and it's certainly not because of anything else… maybe. he doesn't really know for sure. what he does know though, is that the space beside him suddenly feels strangely empty.

when he looks at you to see a pout forming on your lips, he can't help but sigh. you're being unreasonable. there's something that's been nagging his curiosity for a while now, and it took him quite a bit to realize what it is.

“seishirooo,” you whined one day, allowing your head to sink against his mattress, taking up nearly the whole space while nagi sits at the corner of the bed. you came over to his place that day to bother him, stating that you needed some comfort because apparently, “no one ever looks at me. i feel so damn invisible.” he shrugged and offered you his controller, challenging you to a 1v1 with him as a distraction.

“…but i look at you all the time?” he replied.

“yeah, but that's different.” and he would've asked you to elaborate more, if not for the fact that you've been horribly vague about it when he does ask, and the perpetually sleepy gamer only has so much patience before he gives up and decides it's something not worth spending his energy on.

besides, you're always emotional like that. this was probably just another one of your fleeting phases.

it's not until he notices you've been longingly gazing at the couples on the campus, quietly seething under your breath that it finally clicks. now, he may not have the greatest understanding when it comes to feelings and all its complexities, but even he can tell you’re reeking with jealousy.

despite being pushed off only seconds ago, nagi shuffles closer again as he falls into step beside you. even if sparks prick his skin, it feels right in this way. “dunno why you ‘need’ hoes when you already have me.”

“just because i'm into guys doesn’t mean that i like you in that way,” you mutter, sending him an odd glance like you thought there’s something wrong with his head for even suggesting that. not knowing how to respond, he settles for staring right back without a word.

“what's with that look? you know what i mean, seishiro.” you continue, averting your gaze from him. what look? he asks internally. “it's just, well, literally everyone is getting into relationships. and i know we're still first years, but… it just feels like i’m missing out, y’know?

“do you really? sounds like a hassle to me,” he shrugs, and it truly does—he never saw the appeal of dumb crushes, of drama nearly every day, of possible unrequited “love,” or of wasting half your time and energy on someone just for it to not mean anything at all in the end. video games sound way more fun, and way less heartbreak inducing.

“you can't say that when you haven’t even experienced it,” you argue, still pouting.

“it’s overrated anyways. being single is better.”

“hah! of course you’d say that, you virgin.”

“you’re one to talk,” nagi boredly quips. “i’m celibate purely by choice, but you on the other hand… if you really think about it, you're basically an incel.”

nearly choking on your spit, you exclaim, “hah?!”

“you don't even really talk to other guys except for me, and on top of that, you're barely approached by anybody,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, oblivious to the way his best friend’s confidence waning rapidly by the second the more he speaks.

“yeah? and who’s fault is it, you cockblocker!”

nagi simply sticks a tongue out as you flip him off.

right after that, the two of you ended up breaking into a sprint as you heard the clicking sound of heels walking on the tiles around the corner, not wanting to get caught for skipping classes. well, you ran, and just dragged him by the wrist. he felt the warmth of your fingers even through the thick barrier of his baggy sleeve.

PRESENT

you try not to trip and fall face first as a cold hand guides you through the crowded hallway.

it's embarrassing enough as it is to be rushing through the middle of the corridor and pushing past the bodies of random students like you're a main character or some sort, but even more so when the (apparently) most popular guy of the campus that you’ve (never) seen is walking right in front of you.

and it gets even more humiliating when said popular guy has taken hostage of your wrist, leading you away to a more secluded area. shocked, harsh whispers echo throughout nearly the whole floor, and multiple eyes shoot daggers at the fingers wrapped around the sleeve of your uniform, and you’ve never wanted to bury yourself alive more than this moment.

after rounding a corner into a miraculously empty hallway, you finally skid to a stop, yanking your hand away, ready to pounce at the culprit who made you go through all that unnecessary attention. however, before you can get a word in, the refined male bows his head low in front of you, and you find yourself face-to-face with sleek purple locks.

“i’m sorry, but i have no time for dating. i’m really flattered, though. i hope we can stay friends still.” he hurriedly says, hope gleaming in his matching purple eyes.

…what.

who is he again? and why is he rejecting you?

for some reason, you find the stranger’s gaze too bright that you have to look away; so you do exactly that, tilting your chin downwards instead and letting your hair mask your expression.

after a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “i'm really sorry, it hurts me to see you look so down… i’m sure we can put this behind us and—”

“nice shoes,” you interrupt, still not raising your head to meet his now confused stare. “i can tell you really love wearing them, judging by the busted, worn out stitches. hey, is it just me or is that prada logo kinda wonky too?”

the male's jaw drops down nearly all the way to the floor.

“pardon me?” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his composure by flashing his usual award-winning smile, albeit a lot more stiffer. “i know i just rejected you, but you don't have to be so hostile…”

when you finally raise your head, your expression can only be described as terribly and solemnly unamused, unimpressed beyond words.

then, you suddenly lean closer, peering closely into his violet irises with thoughtful hum. an unwilling flush of red creeps on the tips of the boy’s ears, his eyes widening comically at the sudden intrusion of space. “you’ll do,” nodding to yourself, you now grab his wrist and pull him away. “come.”

“w-wait, huh? where are we go—”

“you're the one who made me late. let's go!”

reo isn't quite sure why he's the one being dragged away now.

he has only initially planned to gently turn down the person who last confessed to him, whose family just so happened to be related to his father’s business partners—but now he somehow finds himself on a whole date with that person? (the same one who brazenly insulted him by implying his shoes are fake, by the way!)

“i have other plans today, you know…” the heir says, subtly trying to inch away from you.

you tug him back by his sleeve, with twice as much force than he had used on you earlier. “i can imagine, my dear partner.”

“w-what?” reo stutters, and he's cringes at himself for how he's acting at the moment. the usually composed and charming mikage reo, now reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess? how embarrassing.

“normally my best friend would do this with me, but he slept in today.” leave it to seishiro to leave me all alone on the day that actually matters, you irritatedly mutter under your breath. “well, whatever. come on.”

as you and him enter the packed bubble tea shop, the fingers that were wrapped around his sleeve slides down to interlace with reo’s own clammy ones. he realizes this a second too late, and before he has the chance to let go, the clerk by the entrance greets them with an enthusiastic “welcome, lovebirds!”

“huh?!” reo’s jaw slackens, dumbfounded. he’s really starting to hate himself now—it's unbecoming of him, really, but it's hard to process everything when you're so close to him that the scent of your shampoo keeps invading his senses and subsequently messing with his head.

“here’s your special tickets for today. thank you for participating, and happy valentines!” you drag him straight to the back, where the colorful claw machines are set up. reo catches a glimpse of the pink posters set up on the walls of the quaint shop, which reads: couples get free special tickets! today only! …ah. that's why he's here.

“aoi-san… you're gripping too tight,” he says, gritting his teeth together into a forced smile.

“aoi?” you repeat, your grip finally loosening until you let go entirely. “huh… i see. by the way, what's your name again?”

needless to say, the purple-haired male is beyond perplexed. “is this your unique attempt at a joke or something?”

“come on, rich boy. we've held hands and i don’t even know your name!”

“right… which i totally wasn't being forced to do…” he lets out an awkward laugh. sure, some admirers of his tend to get a tad excessive, but they were never able to get far with him, much less forcibly drag him out on a date—and it's not even because they want him to spend his unlimited budget on them and spoil them rotten, but just so they can get… a free special ticket for a claw machine. how did he end up getting in this bizarre situation? more importantly, how does he get out?

you simply shrug. “your fault, rich boy. you should try thinking about anyone other than yourself for once.”

“excuse me?” he narrows his eyes, slightly peeved. he's had enough of your rude attitude; potential business partner or not, he hopes that he never has to interact with you again in the future. “stop calling me that. i have a name, and it's mikage reo.”

the way your eyes widen doesn't go unnoticed by him. “and what did you even mean by that?” he presses defensively.

you plop down on the seat, with reo mirroring you as you insert the rouge ticket decorated with pink hearts into the slot of the claw machine. “well, mikage reo. i’m sure you're aware how aoi’s family is important, right?”

yeah, this person is definitely a weirdo, reo muses. who refers to themselves in third person?

“i heard they had connections everywhere… just like you. it's crucial to maintain a good relationship with someone like that, right?” you conclude—that would explain why reo had taken the time to personally talk to “aoi” one-on-one instead of just flat out rejecting them on the spot.

reo tilts his head to the side. “i’m not following…?”

“mikage.” you emphasize, looking at him straight in the eye before turning your attention back to playing. “i’m saying that the poor kid’s still waiting for an answer. your heartfelt and sincere rejection, to be exact.”

a few seconds of silence pass. well, as silent as it can be with the loud chattering of the crowd and the mechanical whirrs of the claw machine you're currently messing with resounding in the air.

“you mean, you're not…” reo trails off, all color draining from his face. “i’m so, so sorr—”

“aoi’s the one you should apologize to, not me. oh, i got a double! how lucky.” you eagerly grab the prize, the limited edition valentine’s merch exclusive to this boba shop; a plushie collectible that comes with a redeemable code for your favorite video game. you want to collect all of them, but you’re broke as hell and you’re only here due to the free ticket. turning to reo, you shove the second plushie to his chest. “here, this is for you. since you did help me out with getting these.”

“ah, thank you…” reo absentmindedly accepts the small toy, still reeling on how he could make such a careless mistake. “listen, i do apologize—”

“i wonder how'd you even mix us up. is it ‘cause we have the same hair color?” you ask, slightly amused because aside from that, you and aoi look nothing alike. your fingers tap on the surface of the control panel, observing reo’s shame-stricken visage. “or maybe… is it because everyone just looks the same to you?”

at that moment, mikage reo realizes two things: (1) maybe he's more transparent and vulnerable than he thinks, and (2) you're dangerous, and it's better to stay far, far away from you. how could you see right through him so quickly? what if that's something you'll use against him?

he doesn't like to admit it, but it's true—in his perspective, everyone's the same. they're just after him for money and status, and at some point, they've all just become faceless, superficial pawns vying for his attention.

and of course, you’re no exemption.

noticing he’s gone quiet, you continue, “but i guess if my world was as vast as yours, i couldn't possibly keep up with everything either, so i get it. i’m not saying i’m in the same situation as you, but i can kind of relate, i guess. i only keep the ones who's important to me close, and the rest just exist and do whatever. i’m selective, but in that way, at least i can give my all to the ones that really matter.”

reo closes his mouth shut. here you are casually saying that you don't matter to him, and while that isn't a lie in the slightest, he still can't help but feel guilty. maybe it's just the people-pleaser in him, or maybe it’s the way the corners of your lips are slightly quirked up and to form a miniscule, accepting smile, but he wants to reassure you, “still, i’m sure you feel that—”

“i don’t.” you don't mind that he didn't know you, because you didn't even know him either—there’s no reason for you to take it personal. you’d be a hypocrite otherwise. “i really don’t.”

you smile at him. he thinks it's out of understanding, but unbeknownst to him you're actually just entertained by how his inner turmoil is so clearly reflected on his expression. “so don’t worry about it. plus, we’re even now.” you add, gesturing towards the prize.

hopping off the stool, you wave at him as you start to walk away. “...happy valentines. i'll see you around, mikage. maybe. er, probably not.”

“wait!” he hurriedly jumps off the stool as well, clutching the plushie in his hand as he follows after you. “i… let me drive you home.” the words stumble out before he even realizes what he's saying. you're probably just using him, and you're dangerous, and you see right through him, and he should stop wasting his time because his actual valentine's date is probably three seconds away from storming out the restaurant he's booked at—

so why is he doing this?

“drive?” you repeat, because of course he’d have a driver. damn rich people, you think internally. “nuh uh. it's like a ten minute walk, and i’d rather save the environment.”

“then i’ll walk with you.”

“you do realize i’m done dragging you for the day, right?” you quirk a brow up, amused; you could've sworn he was itching to get the hell away half an hour ago. “you're free. you can go home if you want.”

reo smiles, a more genial one this time. “i know.”

“so, you into popular guys now?”

“hell no.”

nagi narrows his eyes at you. “you’re just into reo, then?”

while you expected to be grilled first thing in the morning by random people about your apparent relationship with mikage reo (to which you simply replied, “i don’t know who that is, sorry,” and proceeded to run away), you didn't expect to be interrogated by your apathetic best friend as well.

usually, nagi prefers to be completely silent during the 1st period (and actually all the way through lunch), not bothering to utter more than a few words, but today, he seems uncharacteristically on edge, waiting for you at the corner of the gym with a wrinkle between his brows.

“why are you on a first name basis with him?”

“everyone calls him reo.” he shrugs. “why him?”

“i never said i was into him.”

“then what's all that partner thing about?” he asks, which confuses you a bit. you doubt that reo would go around announcing to everyone how you teasingly called him ‘partner’ and practically dragged him to a date against his will, but it's not like him and nagi are close either, so you wonder where nagi has heard this information from. then, you suddenly recall back to yesterday, where you saw the curtain of your neighbor’s bedroom window swinging side-to-side, as if it was drawn close a mere second before you looked up.

it seems that your mind wasn't playing tricks with you after all, and that a certain someone was eavesdropping on your conversation with reo as he walked you to your door.

“fake partners, you mean? and it was a just a joke—i met him that day.”

“that day? why are you acting so close if you've just met that day?”

“you're awfully talkative today, seishiro.”

“i know. it's making me exhausted, and it's all your fault.” he then presses his weight against you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder—as he always does when he's tired and you're within reach. your eyes widen immediately, darting around the gymnasium to see if any of your classmates has noticed.

you don't want people to get the wrong idea about you two. it's not because it kills your chances with anyone due to the assumption that you aren't single (which you still very much are, by the way), or even because of potential issues of being a two-timer due to a certain rich boy—it's just that whenever you get asked if you and your best friend are together, you can't help but flinch from the idea, like ice is being poured inside the back of your shirt. you don’t really know what to call it, but you do know that you've answered the question a hundred times and you're positively sick of it.

“i told you to stop doing this in public,” you hiss, trying to push the giant, clingy sloth off you. “and stop whining, nagi. i’m not going anywhere. besides, i’m not even looking for a relationship or anything like that. not after… you know, what happened during our first year.”

he lifts his head up, frowning at you. “don’t call me nagi. just ‘cause you met a new guy doesn't mean you get to call me nagi.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. what’s his problem? “only if you stop whining.”

“…‘m not.” he slurs his words together, only proving your point.

“yes you are!”

“why do you have to be so annoying? you're such a pain,” he sighs, now walking away from you.

“i'm the annoying one?! and don't call me a pain, you—!” without hesitation, you promptly snatch a red ball from the steel ball cart beside you before swinging your arm at him, slamming the dodgeball right to his head. well, you tried to, at least; even with his back facing towards you, nagi only takes one step to the side to avoid it.

“your shitty aim sucks balls,” the tall male comments unenthusiastically, his white fringe falling over his eyes as he gazes at you over his shoulder. his nonchalance only spurs you on, now hauling multiple dodgeballs at him.

“how about you suck my ba—”

“give it up already. you're never gonna hit me.” and nagi actually has the audacity to yawn mid-dodge. of course, it only fuels your irritation even more. you eventually run out of balls to throw, so you mindlessly grab the nearest object to your right and chuck that as well.

…which unfortunately, happens to be nagi’s phone that he's snuck inside the gym, peeking under a face towel on the bench.

“oh, fu—”

because of your (rightfully) so-called shitty aim, it swung way up high to the left, a few steps away from nagi. in less than a second, he realizes what you have flung at him, and his body moves instinctively; he throws himself towards it, swinging his leg upward and trapping it with his foot with perfect ease before it has the chance to plummet down on the floor.

“why are you making me move so much…” he sighs. “what a pain.”

“you’re supposed to move anyways, we're in PE. you're welcome,” you smugly reason out. and then not even a second later you fold, shoulders curling inwards as you glance toward his phone; if it weren't for his godly reflexes, you would've broken it. with a small voice, you meekly add, “sorry.”

nagi shrugs in response.

when he saunters over to place his phone on the bench again, a silver glint catches your eye. a small charm swings lightly, small beads of white and black strung haphazardly together attached to the side of his phone case.

“wait, this is…” a phone charm crafted by hand, which is your birthday present for him four years ago. “i didnt know you still had that.”

“why wouldn't i?”

“where was it this whole time? this wasn't here a few days ago.”

“i just kept it in my drawer ‘cause i don’t wanna lose it.”

tilting your head to the side, you ask, “so why'd you suddenly decide to attach it to your phone now?”

he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “…dunno.”

eyes dropping into slits, you mutter, “you know, that kinda sounds sus—”

“hey! that was amazing! nagi, right? you should play soccer with me!”

nagi and yourself both turn to the direction of the sudden voice, seeing a familiar figure running towards you, vivid purple eyes gleaming under the gymnasium’s stark white lights.

“mikage?” you exclaim.

ever so slightly, nagi sharpens his usual droopy eyes. “nah.” he immediately says, turning on his heel.

“seishiro? wait, weren't you supposed to be looking for a club?”

“don’t really care.” you follow him, lightly jogging to keep up. as soon as you catch up by his side, the taller male glances at you as he asks, “will you join too?”

is he seriously asking you that… “no?”

“then i won't.” nagi concludes as he continues to walk away from reo.

“hey, wait up!” reo calls out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ah, i was completely shut down… say, will you help me convince him?”

your brows shoot up as your gaze flicks down where he's casually touching you. after your initial confusion of who he is yesterday, you then recognize him after learning his name—the most popular boy in school, known for his good looks, charisma, and most especially, his wealth. he gets along well with literally everyone, and acts genuinely close with them even if they aren't.

“uh, why should i?”

“remember that limited edition merch you like? i can get you the rest of the collection. in fact, i’ll even buy out the whole place just for you.”

“wha– seriously?” you feel your eye twitch. damn rich people. “it was limited edition. they all ran out of stock already.”

“i have my ways.” well, that's not shady at all. he flashes a grin at your skepticism, winking at you, “anything for my partner.”

and you now understand why he's earned his title. this is probably how he always gets what he wants—with a smile like that, anyone would drop to their knees and do whatever he’d ask. two years ago, you would've keeled over for attention like this, but now, you're nothing but indifferent.

he places his hands on both of your shoulders now, completely stopping you from taking off. wide violet eyes scrutinize your own, making you scrunch your nose at the close proximity. “shouldn't you be begging him and not me?”

“yeah, but...” reo swears he feels an air of animosity radiating from the white-haired male, and that's why he has decided to turn you instead. “you wouldn't leave your partner hanging, right? as partners, we help each other out, riiiight?” he says, dragging his words out.

you lean as far as you physically can from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care, excitedly looking at you with stars evident in his eyes. “mikage, you—” he smiles at you, bright and blinding, and you find yourself withering under his intense gaze. “okay, fine, just—”

“well, that's settled then! they’re joining the club too, nagi seishiro. they can be our manager.” you briefly wonder why he didn't outright offer to have you join the team, but he probably saw how you threw the dodgeballs earlier… though it's not like you have to use your hands in soccer, so what the hell, this is kind of insulting.

“says who, mikage?”

“you're gonna come watch all our games?” he negotiates.

“why don’t you offer that i join the team?”

“ahahaha. haha. hah.” he laughs awkwardly, swinging an arm around your shoulder and ultimately evading your question.

because you were too busy trying to shrug him off, you miss the way nagi’s eyes zero on to reo’s arm around you, wordlessly observing the whole interaction with his lips pressed taut.

you still don’t know why reo hasn't moved away; he's so close that you can see the dark amethyst specks in his irises, the long strands that frame his face are lightly tickling your cheek, and if you lean in even just an inch, you can practically—

“you said anything i want, right?” your voice drops to a low whisper, and reo nods slowly, still seemingly oblivious to the lack of space between you.

“then... what if i said i wanted a kiss?”

reo’s smile drops immediately, recoiling away from you as if you've slapped him, his whole entire face heating up all the way to the tips of his ears. finally out of his grasp, you erupt into boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you leave the flustered boy alone and catching up to nagi.

likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated ♡

#blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

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It turns out that even their shared body heat and Steve's elevated body temperature are not enough to withstand an extended make-out session out in the snow.

Buck naked.

If he was in his fur it would be fine, but then he couldn't do that to Eddie with his tongue. Or grind in his lap with Eddie's calloused fingers gripping his waist, leaving marks on his flesh.

"You're shivering, Stevie." Eddie says, his big hands rubbing up and down his back and arms to warm him. Steve's wolf purrs at the gesture, as does his human side, for once in complete sync when it comes to his human.

His mate.

Too soon, Harrington. Too soon.

"We should get back inside, warm you up." Eddie adds, moving to sit up, but Steve shakes his head and pushes closer to Eddie, hiding his face at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He doesn't want this moment to end, because what if Eddie changes his mind as soon as Steve lets go of him? Steve can't risk that.

Not now.

Not after losing everything.

Not after just finding Eddie.

Eddie laughs indulgently at his behavior and takes him in his arms again. "You're being ridiculous. Come on, sweetheart, let's go inside. You're still recovering, you can't get sick. Let me make you some breakfast, okay?" And when Steve still makes no move to let Eddie go, Eddie whispers in his ear, "I can still feed you with my hand if you want."

This makes Steve lean back and look at Eddie with big eyes, and Eddie must think it's because Steve is horrified. He hastily backpedals. "I mean, uh, that was... a joke? I don't have to -"

Steve kisses him, partly to cut off his nervous ramblings, mostly because Eddie just offered to feed him. Not the injured wolf he found in the woods, but the human Steve. To continue their routine, to keep Steve so close to him. Eddie may not know what sharing food like this means to his kind, but his inner wolf doesn't care.

It also reminds him that he has brought a gift to his mate. Steve has provided for his mate and he can't wait to show it, even if it means getting out of Eddie's arms and off his lap.

"Come on, I brought you something," Steve says, rising to his feet. It brings Eddie's face to eye level with his cock and Steve would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel smug to see Eddie's eyes widen and his tongue flick out to lick his lips.

"Eddie?" He asks coyly, the grin on his face giving him away. "You comin' or what?"

"Huh?" Eddie asks, sounding dazed before his eyes snap up to Steve's and color rushes up his throat and onto his pale cheeks. "Oh God, yeah, um, I'm comin', yeah, of course I'm comin'," he stutters, scrambling to his feet as well.

Steve turns and leads Eddie to where he left the deer, his hips swaying in a way he knows makes his ass look even better, and he swears he can feel Eddie's eyes on him the whole way.

Eddie's gasp when they finally reach the carcass comes late, proof enough for Steve that Eddie had his mind on something else instead of where they were going.

"Steve, did you...?" Eddie asks, his eyes fixed on the dead deer. Suddenly Steve isn't so sure Eddie would appreciate him doing this because he said he hated the thought of hurting an animal. But they need to eat, and meat is the best way to do that during a winter as long and hard as this one.

"I killed it as quickly and painlessly as I could, I promise, Eddie. I know you didn't want to hurt a living thing, so I did it for you. So you didn't have to."

The silence that follows Steve's statement makes the fear settle heavily in his stomach. What if his mate rejects his offer? What if his mate rejects him?

It would finish the job the hunters couldn't.

"Stevie," Eddie starts and then stops, the anticipation building inside Steve until he's ready to snap, to fall to his knees and beg Eddie. For what he doesn't even know. Forgiveness? Love? Forever?

He's pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by warm arms wrapped around his waist and Eddie's scent enveloping him. "You went to hunt when you're still healing? For me? Just because I said I didn't want to kill?" And when Steve nods, Eddie takes his face between his palms and kisses him.

Deeply. Decisive. Devoted.

Eddie kisses him as if he knows what this means to Steve.

Like he wants it, too.

God, Steve hopes he does.

They keep kissing until another shiver, this time more violent, runs down Steve's body where it's pressed against Eddie's.

"Come on, let's get this inside and I'll make us some breakfast before I deal with this."

"I can help you," Steve insists and Eddie kisses the tip of his nose.

"I know. Later. Right now I need to know that you're not pushing yourself any more than you already have."

And Eddie is right, Steve feels the events of the last few hours catching up with him. The hunt, dragging the heavy carcass back to the cabin, the shift. So he lets Eddie pick up the body and sling it over his shoulder in a display of strength that makes Steve's stomach flutter.

Steve's mate is not only kind and caring, but also strong.

His wolf purrs.

His heart flutters.

His cheeks heat up.

Eddie reaches for Steve's hand, twines their fingers together, and they walk back to the cabin, hand in hand.

Inside, Eddie disposes of the body at the bottom of the stairs to the cellar before making them breakfast, while Steve finds something to wear in Eddie's closet. It smells like Eddie, and Steve's wolf preens at the thought of smelling like Eddie and putting his own scent on Eddie's clothes.

They eat wrapped in a blanket on their mattress, the roaring fire and their shared body heat warming Steve to the core. He runs hot anyway, and Eddie has already stripped down to his underwear under the blanket, claiming it will help Steve warm up faster.

Steve doesn't complain, not if it means he gets to feel Eddie's skin on his own after he follows suit and loses his (Eddie's) shirt as well. Skin on skin, of course, helps him warm up faster after all.

When they're done, they both silently agree to lie down for a while, exhausted from all that has happened. Without having to talk about it, Steve lies down first and Eddie presses himself against his back, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him against Eddie's front. It's the same position they've been sleeping in for weeks.

Only now Steve can feel Eddie's lips against his nape and he can lace their fingers together to press their joined hands against his chest, right over his heart.

It's the safest he's felt since his whole life went up in flames. It's safer than he ever expected to feel again.

As he promised, Steve helps Eddie pull the skin off the dear and cut it up so they can rub it in salt and preserve it. Steve has done this a thousand times at home and knows what he's doing, so after assuring Eddie several times that he feels better after their nap, Eddie takes a big chunk of the fresh meat and goes to work preparing their dinner.

He turns it into a hearty stew with carrots and potatoes and other root vegetables.

By the time Steve is done putting the last of the meat away and cleaning and preparing the skin so they can use it later, he's exhausted again but feels a deep sense of satisfaction.

As the stew cooks on the stove, Eddie joins him to admire his work.

"Wow, Stevie, you did a great job. It probably would have taken me all night. Wayne's usually the one who does this kind of stuff."

Eddie sounds sad when he mentions his uncle and Steve thinks, not for the first time, that something might have happened to him in town. He thinks that soon Eddie will want to go there and check on him, and he will go with him. Even if it terrifies him.

"I heated some water, so how about we let the stew simmer and you go upstairs and take a nice hot bath? You kind of smell like a slaughterhouse."

"Are you saying I stink?" Steve demands in mock offense.

Eddie walks up to him and brings his mouth close to Steve's ear. His hot breath makes Steve shiver as Eddie says, "I'm saying I want to give you a bath if you let me."

It's a losing battle not to run up the stairs to get into the tub.

In the end, Steve convinces Eddie to join him in the small tub. It's a tight fit, but Steve doesn't mind. They clean each other with gentle hands that soon become adventurous.

The smell of their shared pleasure makes Steve's inner wolf roll over with joy, contentment radiating from him. Steve shares the sentiment as he lies in Eddie's arms, sated and happy.

Afterwards, they both change into clean clothes and sit back down at the table to enjoy their dinner.

It's delicious, and soon Steve is finishing his third plate.

Only Eddie's amused chuckle reminds him that Eddie is probably not used to a wolf's appetite. He blushes as he realizes that he has just inhaled the food Eddie has so painstakingly prepared for them like a ravenous animal.

"Oh God," Steve groans in embarrassment and buries his face in his hands.

"Hey, no, don't look like that. I take that as a compliment, Stevie." Eddie assures him as he pulls Steve's hands away from his face so he can look him in the eye. "It makes me very happy to know that you like my food."

Steve gives him a tentative smile and says, "Too bad it's gone," only half joking.

Eddie's answering grin is delighted, dimples carved deep into his cheeks and wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, but it ain't. I saved you the last bite, baby."

With that, Eddie gets up from the table and walks over to the stove, pulling one last piece of meat out of the pot with his fingers. Turning back to Steve, he walks back to the table, but instead of sitting in his chair, he sits on Steve's lap.

"I promised to feed you, didn't I?" he says, his voice deep and his tone hungry as he lifts the meat right to Steve's lips. He doesn't let go of it immediately when Steve tries to take it from him, but rather pushes his fingers into Steve's mouth so that Steve can lick the remaining sauce off his fingers.

Steve only lets them slip out of his mouth when the last trace of meat and sauce is gone.

"Fuck, I could eat you alive," he says as he stares up at Eddie in awe.

Eddie smirks down at him. "What are you waiting for, big boy? You can always have the last bite of me."

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #werewolf!steve #human!eddie #steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 11 #love is saving the last bite for them #my writing

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carmyboobear · 3 months

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same.

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for?

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land.

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is.

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there.

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home. They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same.

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind.

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look. No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh.

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.”

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues.

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too.

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.”

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new.

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all.

Says more about him than them, he supposes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.”

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not.

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh.

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows.

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic.

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth.

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them.

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips.

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip.

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor.

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent.

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe.

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking.

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens.

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket.

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted.

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.”

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply.

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere.

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.”

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter.

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside.

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably. There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers.

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all.

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it.

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on.

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird.

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms.

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it.

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all.

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron.

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away.

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself.

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings.

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?”

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too.

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected.

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up.

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say.

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.”

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does.

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else.

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him.

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him.

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window.

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window.

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused.

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though.

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed.

He wonders if they’ve noticed.

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair.

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?”

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh.

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects.

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight.

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does.

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud.

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!”

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space.

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter.

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face.

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically.

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten.

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it.

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is.

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth.

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food.

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?”

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it.

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.” Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…”

“...And?”

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it.

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does.

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go.

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten.

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end.

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed.

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep.

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug.

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes.

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly.

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face.

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently.

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling.

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear.

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it.

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things.

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #the bear fanfiction #hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now #they're around the same length #AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!!#my writing #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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