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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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I NEED YOU EXCITED, I DON'T WANNA FIGHT IT | Y. OKKOTSU

✵ tags ; established relationship, friends to lovers, afab +fem!reader, forward!reader, back and forth power dynamics, dry-humping, hickies / marking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding. fingering, dirty talk, 18+

✵ wc ; 7.3k (good lord)

✵ a/n ; written with my beloved @princess-okkotsu in mind!! i hope i did your boy justice </3 and thank u for everything literally wouldn't have passed chem w/o you

so not used to have such little warnings on a fic. lol. title is from fire and desire by drake.

✵ synopsis ; yuta wants to do right by you which is why he's so determined to take your relationship slowly. well, he tries too, anyway.

Yuta Okkotsu is a believer of doing things the right way.

He repeats this to himself like a mantra as he hangs out alone in your bedroom. He closes his eyes, elbows resting on the little table, face buried in his palms. Maybe it’s closer to a form of manifestation - like if he says it with enough hooplah it will mean something more than a jumble of words and syllables.

He must clarify that he is trying to do the right thing right now. He is trying so very hard to do the right thing because Yuta Okkotsu wants to remain righteous where possible.

It’s part of his job as a sorcerer, now well into his 20’s and more conscious of the world around him. He’s strong enough to put his money where his mouth is and experienced enough to know that trying to maintain some ethical code is part of staying alive in this business.

And it’s not that Yuta considers himself particularly upright. His friends and colleagues often tell him that he’s a bit unhinged and hard to get a read on. His morals might not always align with greater society, but he never does something that goes against his own beliefs. A lot of which can be summarized quite easily ; anything to defend his comrades.

It really is so important for Yuta to try and be civil in these aspects. Lest he fall into something truly dark. Even he knows what he’s capable of, at least a little.

That’s why he’s left with no choice than burying all of his thoughts of you and using every ounce of energy he has to suppress it as deep as it can go

You know, with all the love that’s influenced his life and all of the years he’s spent learning to be less timid - none of it seems to matter when it comes down to you and him. The logistics of a relationship and the idea of one are two very different things. When it comes to your relationship, he’s been keen in adhering to his strict timeline of milestones. First date, first hand-holding, first deep kiss. It’s a matter of honoring you - because before being boyfriend and girlfriend, you were Yuta’s comrade and companion. Before your relationship status, you're his cherished and valued person.

So because he’s chivalrous. Because he’s romantic. Because he cares about you.

And also because the sheer magnitude of his desires for you perpetually leaves him in a state of distress and disarray. It’s all of the above, all at the same time. And sometimes it leaves him a little overwhelmed.

He barely manages in his daily life but this? This is torturous.

Being in your bedroom unprompted is destroying every ounce of self-restraint he’s built through these last three months. He’s made it through your relentless bullying without giving into his Earthly desires.

It’s just too ideal in a way, being in here. Everything feels like you. There’s pictures of your friends and family around the room. Everything has your scent. Your clothes are littered on the floor and hung over the back of your desk-chair. It’s so you and Yuta loves you and he’s not going to survive being in here despite it all.

It’s embarrassing. Yuta is not the timid teenager he once was. But for all the ways he’s good at standing his ground, his demeanor is all but worthless when it comes down to you.

You’re a few years his senior and you’ve always been a slippery character. He’s enriched by your curiosity of the world. You’re a researcher and archivist of cursed information, coming out of the Kyoto branch. You have plenty of accolades and always manage to teach him something new and come out of difficult things on top.

Mostly, Yuta recognizes all of the good in your heart. He really thinks very highly of you.

There was an obvious passion for your work that Yuta was endeared by in the initial stages of your relationship. Plus you were easy to talk to. You’ve been a good friend to Yuta for years now, ever since you called on him to do some research on him and Rika. And, as the years passed you became closer until one night it hit him that his feelings of admiration were a little closer to something like love.

And with big, wet tears in his eyes (and a fair bit of liquor in his system) he blubbered about his feelings for you. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting at the time. You were happy which was great, but there was also something so lax about it all. Yuta remembers it so vividly. The way you waltzed up to him, tucked some hair behind his ears and kissed him gingerly with all the confidence in the world. Like it mattered but it didn’t. Like nothing could be more obvious than your feelings for each other.

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Okkotsu-san.”

After asking if that meant you were dating like the bumbling, lovesick fool he is - you officially began going out as a couple. And at first, it was smooth sailing. It wasn’t too different from your usual hangouts.

Eventually though, you had pointed out that it doesn’t really feel like you were dating. Suggested that maybe sleeping together would help break the ice a little. That was what started this moral dilemma.

Being honest, it wasn’t like Yuta hadn’t considered it. What thoughts he cooked up while alone in the sanctity of his bedroom is between him and the heavens only. It was just the way you suggested it. You saying it made it all feel so real. And Yuta wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He wants to cherish you so much that he felt like he couldn’t consider your offer too lightly.

And he told you as much, hand in yours and red-faced to which you only blew some hair out of his eyes and laughed. A simple okay, a nod, and a kiss.

Of course, if everything had been smooth sailing this would be a different thing altogether. While Yuta had declined sleeping with you too soon, you had absolutely no plans to make his life easy. He’s not sure how much of it is on purpose. Knowing you, probably a lot. You’re a smart girl, after all.

So all of your bending over and tongue kissing before going home and selfies that just border on boudoir are probably very purposeful. But he’s endured it all. He should cherish you more. He’s been determined to not give in.

The fact he’s all but ready to blow his load over just being in your room makes him feel pathetic. And maybe he is, a little. But only for you.

Yuta likes to think of himself as a collected individual. Really. He knows being this worked up over something as innocuous as his girlfriends room is ridiculous. He knows he’s being ridiculous.

But he really, really wants to uphold his beliefs here. So he’s stiff, sitting with his hands clasped and holding it together just barely.

He practically jumps out of his skin when you return to your room with a tray of refreshments.

“Woah, Yuta. You okay?”

He turns around to look at you. A mistake, apparently. His eyes land on the sight of your bare legs before he forces himself to meet your eyes. You’re so pretty to him. Always so beautiful without any effort.

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

You put the tray down on the table in front of him before sitting on the edge of your bed - facing him. The distance between you is minimal. You reach out to pet the top of his head with the palm of your hand, scratching his jaw tenderly. Yuta feels loved by the touch.

“You sure? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Your genuine worry makes his spine feel like it’ll melt. He puts his hands over yours, rubbing his cheek against your palm.

“Promise I’m okay. Just—it's nothing serious.”

“Mm. Even if it’s nothing serious, I wanna know what stuff you’re worried about, ‘kay? So tell me if you want.”

He feels unsteady but so happy.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna keep sitting on the floor or…?”

The minute you ask him, he feels the hair stand up on his neck.

“The bed…?”

You give him a look of confusion before you break out into a knowing grin.

“Oh, I forgot. I mean to remain chaste, my liege. Just wanna cuddle a bit.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks, not masking the pout in his voice.

You tilt your head to one side, leaning back on your palms.

“A little,” You say mischievously, shrugging “I’m used to your lifestyle of celibacy.”

He frowns at you. “It’s not like that, I just want to—“

“I just want to cherish you because I love you and want you for more than sex yadda yadda yadda. I know. And I respect your wishes even if I think it’s silly.” You say, taking the words right out of his mouth. His frown deepens.

“It’s not silly to me.” He says, almost petulantly. At this, you grab his face in your hands which catches him off-guard. You knock your forehead against his, bent over to do it.

“I know that too, you dummy. The point is that I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

He can’t help but smile, pulling away to kiss at your wrist. You giggle.

“Well, what do you want?”

“To be wrapped up in each other like otters.”

“So romantic.”

“Right? So get up here.”

He gives in sooner rather than later. You scoot till your back is along the wall next to your bed and Yuta wastes no more time in joining you. Your bed is crazy comfortable. Just laying it in makes him want to fall asleep almost immediately. He gets cozy before directing his gaze to you in front of him. He feels like he’s gonna throw up and the only thing that’ll come out is his heart. You give him a look of amusement.

“Enjoying the view?” You tease. He laughs, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck.

“Yeah. Smells like you,”

“So cute.”

“Don’t know how to feel about being called cute.” He says honestly. He peers up at you and you’re giggling and he can feel his heart rate sky-rocket. You twirl a piece of his hair around your index finger.

“You’re cute and cool and handsome. Better?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Mm,” You respond. He looks at you as your expression drifts off somewhere. He can’t take his eyes away from your face “Sorry you had to stay over.”

“It’s fine. It’d be a shame if you didn’t get anything to look over while we were there. If you make any breakthroughs, it’d be good for Gojo-sensei.”

“You still call him that even though you graduated so many years ago?”

He flushes slightly.

“Force of habit. My point stands.”

“Mhm. Thanks for being so supportive. I didn’t think it was that late, y’know? I would’ve tried to hurry if I knew,” You say thoughtfully “But I like having you over.”

He gives you a once over as he pulls away, eyes flitting to your lips. You give him a small grin.

“Kiss me.”

He looks at you apologetically.

“That’s not fair. We can’t kiss? Making out doesn’t count as intimate relations, Yuta.”

“Okay, but it can lead to them.”

“If it’s that serious, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Wait, no.”

“Then kiss me.”

He sighs.

“Just kissing, okay?”

“Okay, you monk.”

He laughs at the comment before pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You have no such intent of leaving it that way - your hand on immediately on the nape of his neck. The softness of your tongue makes Yuta feel like there’s fizz in his head - like the water inside of him is seltzer. He thought you would at least try to give him some mercy.

He probably shouldn’t expect that from his favorite girl. He pulls away, out of breath. A little line of saliva breaks off between you. Your grin is eye-catching, like glass in the sun. Yuta wouldn’t mind burning in the magnitude of your light.

“Just kissing,” He emphasizes, trying to be firm. You hum, hand on his cheek. You rub your thumb on his lip tenderly, looking at him square in the eyes. He’s stronger than this, he swears.

“We are just kissing though?”

“Baby.” He frowns. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach and he’s so entranced by it he nearly forgets what he’s trying to convince you of.

“Since when is making out too naughty? Teenagers do stuff like that, Yuta. We’re grown-ups.”

“That’s the whole problem.” He says back in faux exasperation. You look like you’re going to kiss him again, but you lean into his ear instead. Your breath is warm and ticklish against his skin.

“Yuta,” You murmur with such clear intent he feels himself break down under the weight “Can’t we have sex, hm?”

Blood rushes down to his dick so fast he’s embarrassed. He stares at you as you pull away, a look in your eyes that makes him want to collapse. Of course he does. He wants to have so much sex with you so often it’s starting to drive him up a wall. Is there anyone in the world other than him masochistic enough to turn down the offer? He’s doubtful to say the least.

“I want to,” He admits. You beam and nod. Your hand slides down to squeeze his waist. He swallows thickly.

“Yeah? Then why can’t we?”

“I just..don’t want to rush things,” He replies with as much conviction as he possibly can. The sincerity must reach you because you soften a little “We’ve known each other for a long time. And it was already hard to get here. I just want to make sure it’s right.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” You murmur to him, running over his hip bone with your thumb “And that makes you really sexy, you know?”

“What if it gets all messed up?”

“Our relationship is stronger than that, yeah. It can withstand a handjob.”

He groans at your vulgarity before laughing.

“I’m being serious!”

“I know and that’s so sweet of you. But I really, really don’t think it’ll be that bad if we have sex. We might fuck like rabbits for a few days but that’s not really the end of the world.”

He feels heat creep up his next as you nuzzle your nose against his, whispering softly.

“And doesn’t that sound nice? Cooped up in this little room, fucking each others brains out. Just you and me.”

He feels his dick steel against his will. He looks at you seriously, a fire in his expression.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Who, me? Never. I’m just telling you what I think.”

He groans in complaint. Is this the right thing to do? He doesn’t think so. But it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He really, really wants to have sex and there’s never been such a perfect opportunity. You’re a little too good at turning him on and he’s a little too pent up to think about it more clearly. It feels like the only thing he can think about, a side-effect of this whole conundrum. There is a right way to go about this and he can’t say for certain yours isn’t the one.

Plus the vivid picture you’ve painted of the two of you fucking in a room for hours is making his whole body burn up with lust. Fuck, the things he could do to you in all that time without it ever being enough.

Yuta didn’t know he was aching for you so badly until he was this close to having you.

“Baby,” He can feel how deep his voice is getting. It’s taking all of his strength to keep it in.

“How do you want me? Tell me. You’ve been thinking about me right?”

“Always,” He confesses, staring at you without any restraint “Always thinking of you.”

“Doing what?”

Oh. This is…

Oh.

“I’ve never seen you naked.”

“Then you daydream about seeing me naked? How tame.”

“It’s more than that, it’s—I want to make you feel good. You’re so good to me. And I wanna…”

You stare at him. You’re so cheeky.

“You wanna?”

“Want you to feel good. But because of me. All because of me.”

A wave of heat passes through him. He looks at you and you look...different. You look turned on, fingers carding through his hair. Right now all Yuta can think about is how much he wants. A word with so much weight behind it he can hardly keep up. God doesn’t Yuta want you more than he’s ever wanted anything.

The room feels like it’s hotter than it was a few seconds last. A thick tension spreads over everything like jam. Yuta is too dazed to do anything. He can only watch as you sit up. You guide him to lay on his back and climb on top of him with ease. Your thighs feel warm and soft as you straddled him, taking his hands to put them on your waist.

He slides them up underneath your shirt lightly, enough to feel the warmth of your skin on his calloused fingers. Your eyes lock as you lean forward the slightest bit, caging Yuta in with your hand next to his head.

“So possessive,” You tease, seeing right through him like you usually do. He really is. He thought he was a little better at hiding it “Already all yours, Yuta.”

That makes his dick twitch. You must feel it because you laugh at him about it and his hands grip even tighter. He’s gonna lose his mind, being swept up by you so easily. He’s gotten so used to forfeiting restraint. Always goes in head first because that’s how cowards have to learn to fight. But he’s forgotten how to hold back. How to suppress.

Right now, he feels like an animal. He feels like a restless hound dog, straining against the spiked collar he’s tried to keep himself in place. What does that make you, he wonders?

In an attempt at transparency, he looks at you and says “I want you so much.”

And your reply is about all the permission he needs.

“Then take me,”

Yuta heeds your words and takes. It’s easy to flip you both over from where you are. He mumbles an apology as you yelp in surprise - and he hopes you’ll forgive him for his impatience. He’s been picturing this for months now. He knows what he wants, and that’s you on your back with him on top of you - making you feel so fucking good you can’t stand it. He slots his legs between yours, hovering over you as your bodies press into each other.

You wrap your arms around Yutas neck with ease and he leans in to kiss you passionately. Despite where you are, it’s clear you're helping set the pace. Yuta is eager to follow. It starts off slow enough but when you pull away once, you're opening your mouth enough to let him in deeper. You stick your tongue out and Yuta follows suit. Everything is so hot he feels like it’ll burn, and you taste like mint toothpaste. He likes swapping spit with you like this, the messy way the drool runs down his chin and yours like you can’t get enough for each other.

He has no idea how long you stay like that. Just kissing is a dangerous game. The nip of your mouth and the press of your incisors in his lower lip leave him shuddering. His hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and he can’t help himself but hump into the soft plush of your tummy. Even through the stiff material of his jeans he can feel you.

He quivers and whimpers into your mouth but you swallow the noise with delight. Your fingers find themself at the nape of his hand reaching up, tugging at the root. You pull away to give him a chance to breathe. He sounds pathetic, he knows it, but fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice is cool and collected yet rich and heady. It feels like a salve to his raw nerves, calming to him. He closes his eyes and humps into you and everything feels like it’ll disappear. Yuta just wants to give into his base needs. He wants to be all yours as much as he wants you to be all his and everything is so tangled up in his mind.

“That feel good, Yuta?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. Oh, yes.”

You giggle at him a little and Yuta looks up at you. Look at the swell of your lips and the flush and sheen on your skin. Too much, too much, too much.

But not enough at the same time, he rubs his cock against you again, harder.

“So pent up,” You comment smoothly and Yuta groans in agreement “Why don’t I help you a little?”

Unsure of what you mean, he stares at you hazily. You push him off, making him stand to his knees and he watches you as your hands come to the ends of your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it somewhere. You have nothing on underneath. His mouth dries out almost completely. Bare skin of your shoulders and the curve of your neck and your chest so open. Your nipples are hard against the cool air, standing to attention.

Your b0dy is so much sexier than he could’ve conjured up in his head. The real thing doesn’t even compare, and the way you move as you take off the rest is so fucking mesmerizing. Yuta watches you take off your pants next - you put your legs up to slide them off.

There’s not a single part of you that Yuta doesn’t want to claim for himself. He traces the outline of your legs, the bend of your knee and the arch of your foot. He should worship you, after all - he was right for trying to restrain it before. If he had this in the beginning, he’s afraid of what kind of person he might become. He’s scared of it even now.

Yuta is of course the type of man to get sick on his own devotion. He’s always been like that. That’s what the rings on his hands always mean. He wants to make himself sick on you.

Nothing could be more intense than just watching you undress, he doesn't think. You toss your shorts somewhere, but leave your panties on. Yuta still has his clothes on. The only barrier between you now is a thin layer of cotton. There’s a damp spot on it. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, pressing into it with his thumb as gently as he can. You gasp. His eyes go wide.

“It’s okay,” You assure, a smile on your face “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He hums, dumbstruck, and smooths his thumb over the seam. There’s something salacious about the boundary itself. The material that’s keeping him from just taking you.

“C-can you leave them on..? For a bit?” He asks. You blink twice. Even if you’re confused, there’s not any judgment. Yuta really does love you.

“Uh-huh. If you want me too,”

You give him the floor this time, Yuta thinks. He takes his shirt off too. He doesn’t take his jeans off completely, though. Only unzips them, pushing them down past his boxers to give him some breathing room. And with that he’s back on top of you. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips but moves down towards your jaw. The little fluttery sigh that leaves you makes everything close in around him. Like it’s only you two in the entire world. He leaves them down your neck, down your collarbone and sternum. Warm open mouth kisses trying all over every inch of you.

His hands shake as he reaches out for your chest. You chuckle and reach for him. Guide them to squeeze your tits firm, a cheeky look in your eye. He tries to take more confidence in it now. Gropes the fat between his fingers, palms over your nipples in appreciation. He’s entranced by it, pushing them together and teasing the hardened buds with the pads of his fingers.

“So pretty,” He mumbles, mostly to himself “You’re so pretty,”

“You’re pretty too, Yuta.”

He can feel a blush crawl up his skin. He ducks his head down to take your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan of pleasure that encourages him to suck harder on one and use his fingers to tease you where his mouth can’t reach. Your sighs are shaky and you're gently losing your composure.

He wants to shatter you completely.

He grabs your thighs and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. And you do with his guidance, a well of desire about to burst within him. He adjusts until his cock is snug against your clothed cunt. A broken oh, leaves your lips and Yuta humps into you, shifting until he hits the sweet spot. Your voice sounds again, pitchy and melodic like a wind chime and that’s when Yuta knows he has it.

He has you right where he wants you now. Bodies pressed into each other and so involved, so together. Yuta can feel you everywhere. He’s always been in sync with you but every notch is turned to ten. The shallow rise and fall of your stomach, the slightest tenseness in your spine that melt away when he gives you a little attention. He has you in his grasp but he wants to hold onto you tighter. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, the way his nerves are revved up.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his clothed, hard cock against your cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. There’s something so primal about it that Yuta can’t take it. He can’t think clearly anymore, lost in the feeling of dull pleasure. If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much. You’re both naked mostly except for where you both need each other. So close in proximity that Yuta can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing, pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. There’s something romantic about the mutual desperation.

Drawing out those moans as he sucks at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent up and needy and fucking horny he is all for you.

Just humping your soft, sweet little cunt through your panties makes Yuta want to risk everything he’s got. The push and pull of too much and not enough at the same time. It’s so fucking euphoric. Your fabric keeps wetter and wetter, and Yuta doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling through his boxers. Mixing together so that there’s less friction than there should be, material all soaked through and tacky.

He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff and Yuta pulls away to look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re on edge, in complete bliss and so fucking beautiful.

“Oh, oh, Yuta - shit, like that. G-gonna, gonna,”

He doesn’t know what overtakes him, but he babbles on pulling away.

“Cum for me, please—fuck, baby, p-please, need it,”

You cum the first time just like that. For Yuta, humping each other like two lovesick teenagers. All for him you get all broken. He can’t help but burn the image of you underneath in his head forever. He needs to see it all again.

“Oh, that felt so fucking good,” The praise feels like it’s being injected into his bloodstream“You make me feel sho good,”

The slight slur in your words and praise all together makes him too happy. He kisses you, sloppy and lovedrunk, tongues touching and teeth chattering.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Yuta says with as much conviction as any one man could have. You laugh so loud it makes him smile. “I don’t wish well for anyone you dated before me.” And you laugh again even louder.

“You sound polite even when you’re threatening people.” You say with nothing but affection. Yuta wants more. He wants you. Even with this quiet lull, he’s thinking about how he can get you to cum again.

He nudges his nose to your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth before he talks.

“I want you to do it again,” He states, slow and steady, trying to feel out your willingness “And then I want to fuck you,”

“Wanna fuck me after you make me a mess?” You say, much more bluntly than he has. You’re not wrong “Are you a sadist after all, Yuta?”

“You look good when you’re messy. ‘s not my fault.” He replies, a little bite to his words. This delights you to the point he's proud. He does his best not to look uncool and this one time he’s succeeded.

“Make a mess of me, Yuta,” You encourage, probably because you know he needs it. And he does “I want it.”

“Yeah,” Comes his reply, as he pulls himself off of you “Me too,”

The pace slows down now. The room smells of sex and Yuta can still feel the blood rushing in his ears but nothing so frantic. He lays you back, your legs undoing from behind him and resting. Yuta kisses your sternum first, a wave of emotion running through him. He puts his hands on your sides, sliding them down to meet your hips and squeezing tight.

He kisses his down your body like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He can feel you curl in above him - not completely. But you seem a little astonished, and he'd be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like he accomplished something. He works his way lower slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin as often as he can. Caressing you and committing your body to memory. He wants you to feel him as much as he’s feeling you, to feel his touch. The tension in the air is strengthened by his silence.

If he were saying anything it’d be something like this. Like can you feel it? how much i love you? or i want all of you. Things he can’t often muster up the strength to say. He’s good with his words but not good enough to communicate all of it so bluntly. Yuta is brave in areas other than love. Sometimes your adoration makes all the words clog in his throat. This is better for him, the physicality brings him peace of mind.

He likes how you feel. Your skin is much softer when he compares it to his, feels so different and more plush and comfortable. Yuta likes taking you in his hands and kneading the skin gently enough to relax you. Lower and lower, a trail of wet marks until he’s close to your clothed cunt. He stares at the sticky material, kissing it feather light before redirecting his attention to your thighs.

He starts again, at the bend of your knee - and works his way inward. He’s rougher now, taking time to mark up your inner thigh with precision. Yuta can’t help himself, placing kisses in the last places his teeth bit you. He does it again and again, up along one thigh and then moving to the other until you’re covered in them.

You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Yuta as his breath fans over your cunt, so completely soaked the fabrics a different color. His tongue runs over the material, a shameless moan of pleasure leaving his mouth. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch. It’s salty and a little bitter, the mix of his pre-cum and yours altogether. Yuta goes to do it again anyway. The mess of it gets him excited, unconsciously rubbing into the sheets underneath him.

“O-oh, Yuta.”

He shivers, hands planing over the tops of your thighs as he brings him down close to him.

“Yeah, yeah baby. Just me and you,”

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. Yuta can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter, because that’s what he wants more. Rolls the fabric off of your legs with a deep sigh, a pleased hum. He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelled from need. Yuta kisses it without thinking.

He starts slow. Lays his tongue flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up. The taste of you covers his mouth, tangy and slightly sweet - Yuta can’t get enough of you. He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy close. His nose bumps into your sex. He peers up at you with his lashes. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over - licking at your clit with enthusiasm. Your clit is hard and needy, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle of his tongue as he gains a sort of rhythm. He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Yuta knows he’s hit the right pace.

And he stays like that, your pussy soaking his mouth and chin. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft oh above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is twitching without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding.

“Don’t t-tease so much,” You pant.

Yuta nearly blows his load listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. He listens though, pushing his middle finger into you with ease. It doesn’t take too much effort. Your insides are so incredibly wet for him. Your walls are so soft and inviting, syrupy to the touch. Yuta loves feeling them. He gives you time to adjust to the new sensation, fucking in and out slow enough that the tension melts. He gets knuckle deep with his middle finger and when it doesn’t seem like you’re tense anymore - he goes and adds another.

He does both in tandem - and there’s a period where it’s all a bunch of sensation for you. Eventually it stops being just a feeling, turns into pleasure. He curls his fingers up against you hard, rubbing the soft and spongy area and he can feel you practically lurch forward. Your spine arches, mouth dropped open in a soft ‘o’. Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt and with your clit in his mouth - he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside.

Yuta isn’t one for competition or ego. He’s always been easy-going. But something about you being underneath him like this, moaning for him like this - makes him feel like he should put in a little more effort to prove himself. He wants to make you feel so good, wants to see your composure break down steadily. He wants you praise him for it, to fuck each other like animals in the thereafter of your second orgasm. He pushes towards that goal steadfastly, and soon enough your body catches up with him.

Yuta can practically feel your stomach tighten. You let out a noise, a string of mismatched syllables like a warning. Yuta only hums in encouragement, keeping his pace exactly the same. Feeling it is incredible. His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath.

Your back curves in a C as you cum, hard for him and he can feel it. He can feel you cum. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Yuta made you cum twice in a row and he’s already itching to do it a third.

You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sigh deeply, and Yuta licks his fingers. He waits for your adoration, pleased to receive as you pull him up for a kiss.

“You’re so fucking good, Yuta,” You say and Yuta feels his resolve crumble. He needs to fuck you immediately “So, so good to me baby.”

He whimpers into your mouth. “I need you.”

You laugh breathlessly, your hand reaching between your bodies to squeeze his cock. Yuta shudders and you giggle to yourself.

“Yeah. Bet you’re feeling pent up, Yuta. How about I treat you this time? That okay?”

“Treat me?”

“By riding you,” You say, smiling at him. He gets chills from the offer “You want that?”

“Oh. Oh, fuck - please. Please?”

You smile at him.

“Lay on your back, sweet boy.”

Sweet boy. He swallows thickly but does as you say. Lays back and watches you climb over him a second time tonight - this time with a much more obvious intent. He can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he finds you - no matter how many times he sees you, it’s not easy to get used to.

You sit up on his lap, naked and beautiful, your hangs tugging down his boxers just enough to free his cock. He hisses at the sensation of air, then moans because your hand squeezed around the shaft. Yuta watches, bewitched, by how you spit into the palm of your hands and let it drip down onto his cock. You stroke until he’s covered in it, saliva making a mess of him. When he’s all wet, you scoot forward just slightly. A hand ends up on his chest as you pull your hips up.

Guiding the tip to your hole, you sink down on Yuta finally. He can only recognize loosely that there’s no condoms to be seen but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. There’s a slight sensation of tension that quickly gives away to nothing but slick, white-hot pleasure. You feel amazing. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt in his entire life and each time you drop down another inch - he’s biting his cheek trying not to cum immediately. That’d be such a waste, even if you’ve promised to fuck like rabbits - Yuta wants to make this last long.

You lower yourself steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles before you finally seem comfortable. You lean forward, your hand next to Yuta’s head as you look at him.

“Cum when you feel like you need to, ‘kay?”

Yuta just swallows.

Before he gets a chance to adjust to the feeling, you pick your hips and slam them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. Yuta nearly screams, his hands immediately shooting to your hips to try and slow you down. You give him a wry grin, He almost wants to plead for your mercy.

“Want me to go slower?”

“Please be nice.”

You giggle but heed his request. Repeating the motion but slower as promised, you rock yourself steadily onto Yuta’s cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. Your insides feel like they’ll melt him completely, make him liquid from the inside out. You’re picturesque riding him, tits bouncing and leaned forward enough that Yuta can see the concentration on your face. He watches you find your own pleasure in it too - somewhere half-way between grinding and bouncing that makes you look so good. He feels so incredible like this.

He moves his hands so they’re grabbing your ass and only moves with you slightly. Not enough to change the pace, but to meet you. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin - a tacky smack as your bounces hard enough to hit Yutas thighs. Something about is so vulgar, but something about is so sensual. He can feel every nerve in his body standing on edge. Your hand moves gently between your bodies to tease your clit as you ride and Yuta can’t help but be impressed by your stamina. He feels so spoiled. Feels so mind-numbingly good he wants to go brain dead while you drain for everything he’s got.

Your expression is blissed out as you hit your stride, absolutely debauched. He can feel you again, another rush of arousal. He’s getting better at telling when you’re close. Your pussy is so sloppy all for him, because of him. So messy that it’s dripping down his cock onto his balls, all over the sheets underneath you. He can feel you clench in anticipation - the sudden spasming in the build up.

“Gonna cum again and I want you cum right after me, yeah baby? Can you do that?”

Yuta groans.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Is all he can make out. You laugh, breathy. Your pace is still the same as you rub your clit. The third time you cum is less intense. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else. Even still, you clench around his cock hard - getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago.

It’s in the tremors that Yuta finally feels in touch with himself again. He loses himself completely. Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catching up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His eyes shoot open then go back closed. The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Yuta finally cums he sees nothing but white stars in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak - so he holds onto you tight and finishes to the sound of your gentle coaxing. Your voice is shot hoarse as you coo to him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. That’s it, there you go.” Echoes around in his head. Cum spurts out of him, thick and hot in your walls and he doesn’t even try to pull out as he goes completely limp underneath you.

When he opens his eyes back up again, you're both just as ragged as each other. Yuta can’t stop himself from laughing. He hugs you tight to his chest as you lay on top of him - naked bodies and tangled limbs.

“I love you,” Yuta says blearily. You laugh.

“I love you too, Yuta.”

After you and Yuta manage the energy to shower, you find yourselves back in bed. It’s late when you’re finally ready to sleep, being in the same positions you were before. Only this time with new sheets.

Yuta lets you into his arms, wrapping them around you as you nuzzle into his chest.

“So. Was it worth breaking your rules?”

Yuta can’t help but break out into laughter at your question. He nods his head, a flush on his expression.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

#yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu smut #writing tag #i was NOT going to post this until i woke up later #but due to unforseen and horrendous circumstances i am alive #i wrote this for miss aleks i am literally so grateful for u kdsjknkjsd thank u sm #i hope it is okay!! its been a while since ive written him

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pinkflower2003 · 13 days

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You are actually so talented. I’m addicted to reading your stuff. If you what to write a slightly more angsty one maybe could be a pt.2 to one of the pregnancy ones that Y/N has the baby and then starts struggling with postnatal anxiety and just can’t keep her eyes of the baby so driver comforts her and helps her even though she’s being a stubborn first time mum 😅

Baby Blues

Charles Leclerc x Reader

a/n: thank you so much that is the sweetest thing ever, you guys literally make me wanna cry omg🥹 i hope this is okay! thank you so much for your submission<3

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light on the nursery. You sat in the rocking chair, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms. The room was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the chair and the occasional coo from the baby. Despite the serenity, a storm of anxiety churned within you.

As a first-time mother, the overwhelming love you felt for your daughter was matched by an equally overwhelming sense of fear. What if something went wrong? What if you weren’t enough? You couldn’t keep your eyes off her, afraid that if you looked away for even a second, something terrible might happen.

Charles Leclerc, your partner and the love of your life, had been nothing but supportive since the birth. But as days turned into weeks, he noticed the change in you. The way you barely slept, constantly checking on the baby, the way your hands trembled whenever you weren’t holding her.

One afternoon, Charles found you in the nursery again, your eyes fixed on the sleeping baby. He approached quietly, his heart aching at the sight of your exhaustion.

"Y/N," he said softly, kneeling beside you. "You need to rest."

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t, Charles. What if something happens?"

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Nothing will happen. She’s safe. You need to take care of yourself too."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the worry and fear evident in your expression. "I’m scared, Charles. What if I’m not doing this right?"

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You’re doing an amazing job. You’re the best mother our daughter could ever have. But you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you."

You wanted to believe him, but the anxiety was a relentless force. "I just…I can’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his touch soothing. "I know it’s hard. But we’re in this together."

Charles took the baby from your arms, cradling her with practiced ease. "Why don’t you lie down for a bit? I’ll watch her."

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on your daughter. "What if she needs me?"

"I’ll be right here," Charles assured you. "And if she needs anything, I’ll wake you up. I promise."

Reluctantly, you agreed, allowing Charles to guide you to the bedroom. As you lay down, he sat beside you, holding your hand. "Close your eyes, amour. Just rest for a little while."

For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax, Charles’s presence a comforting anchor. Gradually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a restless sleep.

When you awoke, the room was dim, and you could hear the soft murmur of Charles’s voice from the nursery. You got up quietly and peeked through the door. Charles was sitting in the rocking chair, the baby cradled against his chest as he hummed a gentle tune.

He looked up and saw you, a tender smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you’re awake. How do you feel?"

You walked in, feeling a bit more rested but still anxious. "Better, I think."

Charles stood up, walking over to you with the baby. "She’s been fine. You’ve been fine. And you will be fine. But you need to take it one day at a time."

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Charles. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He kissed your forehead, his touch filled with love and reassurance. "You’ll never have to find out. We’re a team, remember? We’ll get through this together."

From that moment, things started to change. It wasn’t easy, and there were still days when the anxiety threatened to overwhelm you. But with Charles by your side, you found the strength to face it. He was there for the late-night feedings, the endless diaper changes, and the moments when you felt like you couldn’t go on.

And slowly, you began to trust in yourself as a mother. You started to believe that you were enough, that you could keep your daughter safe and happy. And through it all, Charles was your rock, your constant source of comfort and support.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #baby imagine

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moonstruckme · 9 months

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Hii! First off, I love your writing!

Could i request poly!marauders x reader who normally is very upbeat/sunshine-y but is feeling down and is really overwhelmed by school (like homwork or exams or smth) and they comfort her and help her study?

Don't worry if you don't wanna do it it is just an idea that popped in my head<3

Thanks for requesting!! Here you go sweetness <3

poly!marauders x (overwhelmed)sunshine!reader ♡ 998 words

“Hi, dovey.” Remus drops a kiss on your head as he comes to perch on the edge of James’ bed. You’re probably the most concentrated he’s ever seen you, lasered in on your homework as James pouts beside you.

“Hey,” you say, and from anyone else your reply might sound normal, but Remus stops short. There’s none of your usual animation in your voice, no “how’s your day going, handsome?” and no jumping up to wrap your arms around his neck. From his own bed, Sirius shoots Remus a look. He’s noticed, too.

“How’s your day going?” he asks probingly.

“Good.”

Remus nearly flinches, not that your tone is sharp. But it feels limp and lifeless compared to what he’s come to expect from you. He wants desperately to set you right, and from James and Sirius’ distressed expressions they feel much the same, but they’re in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how to deal with you when you’re not your usual upbeat self.

Remus decides on a roundabout tactic. “Everything alright, Prongs?”

James looks at him with giant, long-lashed eyes. “Y/N doesn’t want to go on a picnic.”

Your eyes dart to James momentarily, and Remus thinks something like regret flashes across your face, but then your attention is back on your work. Sirius cocks his head as he watches you, trying to figure you out. Remus hopes he’s doing a better job than he is right now.

You reach up to pet James’ hair absentmindedly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just don’t have time today.”

“It’s only going to be nice outside for so long,” James whines.

Your sigh is deep and tired, and Remus feels like all the air goes out of his lungs with it, a dull ache blossoming in his sternum. “I’m sorry,” you say again.

“Maybe we can all go tomorrow,” Remus says placatingly, reaching behind you to rub James’ shoulder. You don’t say anything, but he sees doubt and guilt flit in quick succession across your expression. “What’re you working on there, love?”

“Charms.”

“Isn’t that due today?”

“Mhm.”

“Dove.” He infuses his voice with some sternness, and it works; you look up. “Why are you doing that so last minute?”

Remus is used to everything moving fast when it comes to you. You’re a sprightly thing. You’re there one second, gone the next; your smile sparks to life quicker than he can blink; your kisses are enthusiastic and rapid-fire, little pecks all over his face. But he isn’t expecting it, the way your eyes are looking at him dully, and an instant later they’re full of tears.

Your voice comes out choked, and Sirius leans forward in his chair almost instinctively, like he’s lunging for you. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, darling?” Remus asks gently, cupping your face. You won’t let yourself lean into it like you usually do, but a tear escapes your eye, racing down your cheek where Remus catches it with his thumb. “Are you having trouble studying?”

“I’m not—” Another tear follows the first, and you swipe at it, shaking your head with a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says, voice uncharacteristically soft. He looks as pained as Remus feels, at a loss for how you like to be treated when you’re upset. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I just can’t do it all as easily as you guys.” The words seem torn from you, each more scratched and fragile than the last. “I can’t keep up.”

Remus wants to ask again: What do you mean? but he holds his tongue.

“I don’t get this.” You shove at the paper in front of you as if it will go away. “I’m not good at essays and I can’t keep track of what we’re doing in class. I’ve never had a problem before so I don’t understand why—” you take in a gasping, ragged lungful of air, and the sound tears at Remus’ heartstrings “—why all of a sudden I feel so dumb.”

“Whoa, hey.” James takes your homework off your lap, pulling you in for a hug. “You’re not dumb, angel. Everyone has trouble keeping up sometimes. It’s a busy time of year, yeah?”

“It is,” Sirius confirms. “Flitwick seems to have forgotten we have other classes, with all he’s been assigning lately. And the potions essay due next week has been kicking my ass.”

“Mine too,” you say miserably into James’ chest.

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately?” James asks, his hand stroking a path down your spine and back up again. “How long have you been this overwhelmed?”

“I don’t know.” Your sigh is muffled by his shirt. “Since last week, I guess.”

“Dove, you’ve got to be exhausted.” Remus shakes his head, stunned you’ve let this go on so long and vexed with himself for not realizing. “Take some time to rest. We’ll help you study when you’re ready to start again.”

You turn around in James’ arms with a sniffle, your eyes red-rimmed but your features a bit less tense than they had been. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. You guys have your own homework, you shouldn’t waste your time helping me with mine.”

James laughs, giving you a firm shake by the shoulder. “We don’t mind, silly. A lot of it’s the same stuff, we can just talk through it together.”

“Yeah?” you look at him hopefully, and Remus is more relieved than he’ll ever admit when he notices some of the brightness coming back to your expression.

“Uh, yeah.” Sirius says, the duh implicit. “Honestly, sunshine, if you think any time spent with you is wasted, you’re more sleep-deprived than I thought. To bed with you.”

You grin, but do as he tells you, laying your head down on James’ pillow.

“Thanks,” you tell Remus as he lays a throw over you. “I really appreciate the help.”

Remus smiles at you, his sunny-faced girl restored. “Anytime, dove.”

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meangirls-imagines · 2 months

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Hey this is a little different I guess but can you do a regina x fem reader where reader is so genuine and thoughtful about loving regina that Miss queen bee sometimes gets overwhelmed because when has anyone treated her like that when they didn't want something or her want something from them?

Used To It

Description: Regina is used to putting all of the effort in her relationships. She starts dating Reader and gets overwhelmed by the amount of love and effort she's shown. Reader helps her realize what she deserves.

WARNINGS: none, fluffy as fuck

Regina George was not used to love.

I mean, sure, her parents loved her. But, they loved her because they were her parents. It's kind of a requirement to love your kids.

She thought Aaron loved her, but he just loved what dating Regina gave him. Popularity, status, friends. Same thing with Shane, he loved her because she was good at sex.

She never really felt love.

She had always heard about it, seen it in movies, read about it, but she had never experienced it.

She thought dying for 15 seconds would finally get her the love she had been chasing her whole life. Turns out, it doesn't. It just makes everyone feel pity for you.

After completely healing from the spinal injury, and neck brace free, Regina came out to the whole school. Most people were surprised but some people kinda already knew.

A couple of months after coming out, Regina started talking to a girl in her Physics class.

Y/N Y/L/N.

She was very sweet and charming and always knew how to make Regina feel better. After a few dates, Y/N asked Regina to be her girlfriend, to which the blonde said yes.

Now, a couple of months into their relationship, Regina felt overwhelmed. In a confusing way.

It's not like it was Y/N's fault. It wasn't.

The girl had been nothing short of perfect to Regina. Taking her on spontaneous dates, buying her gifts, pda, the whole nine yards.

She wasn't used to it.

She was used to taking control in her relationships but this, this was different from any relationship she had been in. This was....healthy.

The blonde didn't know how to bring up how she felt to Y/N. She had talked to Karen and Gretchen and even though they weren't much help, they were right.

"Be honest with her, Regina. She'll understand."

The blonde had texted Y/N to come over so they could talk. She had to let her know that it wasn't anything bad, so she wouldn't freak out. Fifteen minutes after she sent the text, Y/N showed up.

She had stopped and gotten Regina her usual from Starbucks. Regina's heart melted at the gesture and thanked the girl with a kiss. She led Y/N into her room, for more privacy as the girl made herself comfortable.

"So, what's up, baby?" Regina took a deep breath and sat at her vanity, facing Y/N. "Umm. I don't know how to say this." The blonde began to fidget as Y/N looked at the girl with a comforting smile.

"Take your time baby." Regina took another deep breath. "I've never been in a relationship that's so...healthy. And it's overwhelming." Y/N nodded, allowing Regina to go on.

"I've never been around a relationship that showed me what love was supposed to be. My parents, Aaron, Shane. I've never been exposed to stuff like that and you have shown me more love in these few months than anyone and it's very overwhelming. I don't wanna mess anything up because I'm happy for the first time in my life, but I also don't wanna hold back."

Y/N nodded and stood, walking to where Regina was sitting. "Regina, first off, thank you for being honest with me baby. Listen, I just wanna give you the best. I know your past relationships haven't been the best, but I'm going to make up for the sucky parts by treating you like the princess you are."

Regina's eyes filled with tears at the girls words. "I don't want to overwhelm you but I also don't want you to feel like I'm going to treat you like your other relationships did. This is a team, Regina. Not an individual thing. I'm going to be there for you, just like you're going to be there for me."

Regina nodded, tears running down her face. Y/N wiped her tears and kissed her gently. "I'm so proud of you for telling me, Gina. I know it wasn't easy. But please, for the future, know that you can come to me for anything, baby. I won't judge."

The blonde nodded, burying her head in Y/N's neck. Y/N kissed her head and guided her back to her bed. Y/N laid back and pulled Regina into her arms. "I really care about you, Regina. All I want is for you to be happy."

And as Regina fully relaxed in Y/N's arms, she felt true happiness for the first time in her life.

Yeah, she could get used to this.

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024

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doobea · 10 months

Text

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content (f!oral receiving, m!oral receiving, fingering, my lame attempt to write dirty talk, blindfolds, virginity loss), characters are all in their mid/late-20s, romcom, fluffy smut (if that's even a thing), feels like PWP (there's like 3 smut scenes?) and also mini sex ed, sae makes an appearance!!!, wholesome ending hehe, mdni word count: 8K (idk this could've been split up into two parts but here we are) a/n: words cannot describe how happy i am to see this whim of a series turn into something so huge in a short span!! like tysm!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy the final part :)

四 : call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock -> prev.

Tuesdays are miserable for Rin.

They're usually reserved for prepping for press conferences, answering emails from sponsorships, and posting on his socials to increase interactions with his followers - all courtesy of Ego's 'Blue Lock: Career Manager' program. Tuesdays are the only days when Rin can work from home but it drains the most energy out of him.

Today he wakes up before his alarm, a rare occurrence, and notices an oddly large amount of sunlight in the room. He shifts around and tries to yawn, only realizing that his jaw is stiff and sore from the night before. It soon dawns upon him that he's in your bed and feels the extra weight on the left side. He tilts his head down, eyes softening at the sight of you in his shirt, snuggled right up against his bare chest with just the tiniest of drools sweeping out of your lips, but he doesn't mind.

There's a sudden urge to use the bathroom but he rests in bed for a few moments longer. His fingers brush some of your locks away from your frame and watches as your eyes flutter under closed lids at the contact. He starts counting your breaths in intervals, almost trying to calculate your heartbeat in his weird little head, and begins to feel overwhelmed by how right it feels to be laying next to you.

Tuesdays just got better for Rin.

The first beat of his alarm goes off and he's fast to put it to snooze in order to not disrupt your slumber. The athlete takes this moment as motivation to get up and gently sweeps you over to your sides before crawling out of bed. His back creaks, aches, and pops when he pulls himself to his feet and attempts to do his routine yoga stretches. And, at that moment, Rin decides that he'll make his favorite dish for breakfast.

Your nose twitches you awake from the fragrant earthy smell emanating from the kitchen. You sit up a bit too fast, vision going white as you're hit in the face with the immediate morning shine, and groan. Sounds of stacking plates and water trickling in the background are soon followed by the shuffling of slippers coming close to your direction as you see your shirtless husband carrying in a breakfast tray occupied by two bowls of green tea rice with bream and tall glasses of water.

"Good morning," He sets down the tray on the bedside table and leans forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, "did you sleep well?"

"You wouldn't believe it," You shoot him a cheeky grin, "maybe we should do this more often."

He raises an amused brow, "Sleeping together?"

You shrug back with a teasing look, "If that's what you wanna call it then sure."

The mattress lets out a small squeak as Rin sits down, quickly cupping the sides of your face into his for a deeper kiss. The heat of his mouth on yours feels all too welcoming that you can't help but relax your head back down to the pillow. You find yourself eagerly returning his kisses, searching for his tongue with yours and gently nipping at the corner of his mouth.

Rin breaks free for a moment, redness evident on his cheeks, "The food."

You slouch forward, lips brushing over his neck which causes him to tense up, "I'm sure we can spare just 15 minutes, right?"

"Right, 15 minutes." He breathes and looks at you, "Is there anything you want me to do?"

For the past year, you've dreamt of Rin saying this exact question over a dozen times with a dozen of different answers. Whether it be him kissing you until you were a sloppy wreck, leaving hickeys and love marks all over each other's bodies until his teammates complained, or having him absolutely fuck you into oblivion.

"Up to you."

Rin nods and pulls off the blanket covering you, admiring how cute you looked in his baggy t-shirt, and lowers himself further until his face is right between your thighs. He leaves a trail of kisses along the side of your right thigh, lips moving lower, engulfing the hot candy-coated skin. You can feel yourself growing wetter and start to whine, instinctively grinding your hips against the mattress.

"Calm down." You hear him whisper, breath hot against your wet center.

"Rin." You don't know how many times you were going to cry out his name, but you needed him to understand.

As his mouth hovers over the area that you had no idea was so needy until now, he continues to kiss the insides of your thighs, forcing you to turn your entire body to the side in search of some form of pressure. His name makes its way past your lips again and, at that sound, he holds tighter to your thighs to spread them apart. Rin stares at your dripping opening, spreading it open with two fingers for so long that you look down to meet his dangerous teal eyes.

"I have a meeting in 30." He says as if it was dirty talk and you almost end up laughing but saved the energy to give a light squeeze at his head with your thighs.

"So make it fast."

Rin nods slowly, and soon, his hot, firm tongue is on your sensitive nub. He moves in long, fast strokes, caressing the neediest part of your body while one of his rigid hands settles onto your hip, rooting you against the mattress. You screw your eyes shut at the action, feeling the pleasure beginning to inch its way up to your stomach, and made the realization your husband has already made note of all of your sweet spots in just two sessions.

Your rapid moans begin to fill the room and you attempt to lift your hips against his strength, every muscle in your abdomen tightening as you try to concentrate on finding release.

"Rin, I'm clo—"

A loud blaring ringtone from Rin's pocket snaps you both out of the intoxicated spell and he groans in frustration. He gets up to sit on the end of the mattress, picking up his call with a swift swipe. You can't make out the exact words from the line but, from Rin's pursed lips and hard expression, you knew it was work-related.

"Yeah, I'll hop on in just a second. Thanks." The call drops with a beep.

You pull the blankets up to cover yourself, trying to hide the disappointment stretched on your face, "Ego?"

"Yeah," Rin sighs and throws you an apologetic look, "we'll continue later? My sponsors started the meeting early."

"Mhm, that's fine." You give his arm a small squeeze, a secret way of saying 'Go fuck them up'. And he squeezes back, his way of saying 'I will'.

Rin's meeting with his sponsors is... interesting.

Like most people who know him, he likes to keep things relatively minimal and doesn't like showing much of his personality other than what people usually see on screen - deadpan and curt. And he prefers to keep it as such. Though, and he blames Ego, his recent sportswear sponsors have been pressuring him to 'change' his persona for their new campaign (and gaining a new wide customer audience of course). And the theme for that? Eros.

"Has anyone told you that you have a hidden sex appeal?"

Rin almost chokes on his drink before responding quietly, "Not many?" Aside from you, that is.

The middle-aged man on his laptop screen laughs, "We'd think you'd be perfect, but you need to flesh out that side of you."

"Huh," is all Rin could say because why would athletic wear even be sexy in the first place?

"We're a bit busy today on site but if you could send us full body shots in these poses," the man sends over a link in the chat, "we'll compensate ten thousand for that and then the rest on the day of the shoot, deal?"

Getting these types of offers is usually rare in Rin's case. Brands tend to fit their representative's aesthetics rather than molding them into something they're not. But sometimes they can get a bit ruthless with their pestering.

He clicks on the link and a separate tab opens up, revealing a series of seductive mock-ups of a blindfolded shirtless model in tight Nike boxers. This is what they wanted him to do? Just so they can sell some underwear? Rin finds himself regretting turning down the Mcdonalds' campaign two months ago. Maybe that would've kept his schedule busy and Nike could've turned to someone else like Reo or Karasu.

He wants to say no, but this was one of Blue Lock's biggest donors. Saying no would result in another long meeting with Ego and the rest of the company's executive board. And there's no way that he could sit through that again.

"I'll send them over by the end of the day."

The man snaps up, eyes wide, "Perfect! Pleasure doing business with you as always, Itoshi." Without saying any departures, his screen goes black.

Rin grunts and slumps down in his chair, only looking up when he hears his bedroom door creaking opening slightly, revealing your figure with a sly smile.

Ah, he can't tell if he likes the look or not.

"I'm assuming you—"

"Can I please help?!"

Rin doesn't miss the glint that flashes across your eyes. It appears that you already have something in mind and he needs to send over the photos by this afternoon so does he even have a say? It wasn't like Rin knows how to take gaudy photos anyway.

He fakes being in deep thought briefly with a finger to his lips, enjoying the sight of your bubbling excitement, before agreeing, "Where should we start?"

You strut over to his laptop and eye the mock-up photos that his sponsor had sent over. Rin closely watches your facial expressions change as you seem to take this newfound role with increasing responsibility and seriousness. Of all the time spent together within the past year, he's never seen you this passionate over something silly in his opinion.

"Do you have their product on hand?" Your question snaps him from his thoughts and he nods, pointing towards the guest room closet.

"They sent over three separate pairs last week. I didn't bother trying them on."

A gasp escapes from your lips follow quickly by a pout, "I could've seen you in them?!”

“We’ve only started being intimate a few days ago, honey.” He said matter of factly.

“Still…” Your voice trails off with a playful eye roll before you clap your hands together in movement of an idea.

Rin straightens up from his seat at the action, unsure of what to expect within the next couple of minutes. He hears you mumble something under your breath and watches you leave the room and return with what appears to be a black cloth, some rope, and a pair of handcuffs. While he knows that you usually receive free sex toys from your collaborations, he can’t help but question whether you’ve used them or not. You toss the items onto the mattress and rummage through his drawers to pull out the sealed package with the branded boxers.

"It'll be quick, babe!"

Most likely not, he thinks. With the direction of where this is heading, Rin believes he'll soon revisit this morning's session.

Much to his own surprise, modeling in only his boxers was something he discovered he was effortless at. Or maybe it was your own enthusiasm and concentration behind the camera that made him feel a bit at ease. You both moved to the living room area to catch better lightning and instructed Rin to lay down on the sectional couch with a singular hand tousled through his hair. In just a span of a few minutes, you've captured over a dozen dynamic close-ups and full-body shots of your husband's figure.

"Do you do this often?" Rin speaks out.

You stand behind the camera with unwavering focus, thumb hovering over the shutter as you set up for the next shot, "Not often but only with the toys I get."

Rin flinches from the flash before pressing on, "Do you use anything of them on yourself?"

Your dexterous fingers adjust the settings and angle the device slightly right, "Never, if I'm being completely honest." A faint flush travels to the tip of your ears at the next sentence and you feel yourself hesitating, "I've only ever used my personal vibrator but that's about it. I have a mannequin in my room that I dress up in order to understand visuals whenever I'm writing."

This is new. In the short amount of time that you've guys been spending together, you believe that this is actually the first instance where Rin asks about what you do for work. And despite him going down on you this morning, you can't help but want to crawl somewhere far and away from the sudden embarrassment. You do this for a living!

A few more flashes and loud snaps go by.

"And what exactly are you currently writing?" He asks. Rin is no good at hiding his intentions, teasing leaks into it.

You freeze, feeling his watchful gaze, and choose your next words carefully, "A short novel about a husband and wife. Really corny plot to explain, I don't think you'll like it that much." You try to laugh off your sudden nerves.

Rin crosses his arms, now sitting up, "I don't mind listening."

For a long moment, you stare back at him, mouth agape, trying to scramble for an answer, "Um, it's about their awkward relationship and them trying to get comfortable with one another, if that makes sense?"

The uneasiness of your answer is something he picks up on and Rin can't help but move forward with it, "That sounds awfully familiar." He says as if it's a long-forgotten memory, placing weight on each word.

Your hands fumble with the next camera shot, "A-Ah, there are tons of books that follow a similar premise, it's nothing new!" Rin looks like he's going to add something to the topic but you interject, "Let's move to the next set! Can you put on the blindfold?"

He obeys, your shoulders relax as the conversation dissolves, and he ties the black cloth around his eyes, only allowing his dark bangs over them. You watch him fumble back into his original pose with his legs spread and arms propped up against the couch’s frame.

Anyone within their right mind would easily agree that Rin Itoshi is attractive. If you were to show any of your penpals a photo they would probably hound you down for stealing a man like him off the market. Even when you were looking through his application over a year ago, you had a general idea of what to expect but meeting him in person blew away your expectations. Seeing him earlier was great, fantastic even, but there was something about having that blindfold on that made your breath stuck in your throat.

"How does it feel?"

"No different from me closing my eyes." Except, well it is different. He feels a lot more vulnerable with not knowing your movements, his sense of touch is heightened and, frankly, he's aroused. And of course, you catch the last part.

"I can feel you staring, you know."

"It's hard not to." You snap the photos and made a mental note to photoshop the growing appendage away. You aren’t really sure what would happen if that gets approved and you really don't want to find out. "Can you lay flat on the couch this time? Hands behind your head? Yeah, just like that - perfect."

He vaguely makes out the flashes behind the thick fabric and jolts when he suddenly feels your cold fingers tracing his lower abdomen. He stays still, wondering where and what you're planning to do next in heavy excitement. His erection jerks hard against the boxer briefs as your fingers make their journey down, hand stopping right when his seemingly wet tip throbs up into your palm.

"Stay still for me?" And he hears you laugh when he nods a bit too fast.

Rin draws a sharp breath through his teeth when you free his erection from the slits of his bottoms, his hands travel to meet yours and place them around his length. Zero words are exchanged as the next thing he feels is your warm tongue wrapping eagerly around him.

He instinctively bucks his hips towards your mouth, toes curling in the process as you start dragging your tongue up and down his arousal. It only took a few more tries before you start to feel the moment when he loses the control that he had been holding onto diligently for so long.

But what fun would that be?

You pull back from his length with an audible pop and laugh, "That's for this morning."

He wants to cry at the loss of contact but holds back. Rin tosses off the blindfold, throwing it across the room, and the moment his gaze meets yours, it's burning. "Not fair."

"It's only fair, babe." You reply back with a tease.

Your body falls softly against the cushions of the couch as your husband gets up and he picks you up easily by flinging a hand under your legs. You wrap your legs around his waist, resting just above his needy erection, and widen your eyes as he starts stepping toward the bedroom.

"What about the photoshoot?"

"Just send over what you have," He makes a low, guttural sound in response and traces his tongue along the crook of your neck, "I want to do something else right now."

He pulls you away gently by your throat, forcing you to look back at him. His eyes scan your face, looking you over and memorizing every detail before they fall to your lips, and he leans forward and kisses you.

As his tongue breaches your mouth, he sets you down on the mattress, crawling on top, and shivering when his bare cock brushes over your bottoms. You can't help the way you tremble under his hold, your entire body lighting on fire. You have an idea of where this might go but, before anything else, you reach over to your bedside drawer and pull out a series of small boxes.

He pulls away at the sound and inspects the items, "You always kept condoms there?" Rin asks.

"No," You said a bit too defensively, "I'm just an optimist and safety comes first." You toss two boxes in his hands. "Check the date on those."

He eyes them strangely and taking out a couple of colored condoms and clear ones. "Why?"

You squeeze his thigh, sitting up on the mattress this time, "The good ones expire within two to three years. I think these should be decent? Pick whichever one you want to use."

Rin blanks for a while, trying to weigh out his options. He doesn't know why but this is harder to decide compared to who he should pass to on the field. You sit back slightly against the headboard, rubbing small circles into his thigh before he finally comes to a decision and picks up a black one.

Your lips quirks up, "Ribbed for her pleasure?"

He plays with the packaging between his fingers and furrows his brows, "I don't trust the ultra-thin ones."

"It's not like they make the condoms break on purpose!"

"I know that," He blushes in embarrassment, "I just want us to be safe too."

You free yourself from your top and bottoms, letting your breasts perk up in exposure to the cold air in the bedroom. Rin doesn't wait long to get rid of his only remaining article of clothing and carefully removes the wrapper from its confinement. He fumbles with the condom for a bit, trying to find the correct way of putting it on so that it doesn't automatically slip off, and gingerly pushes your back against the mattress.

Rin takes a moment to fully absorb the sight, his heavy gaze darting across your fully naked flushed figure along the white sheets that hugs your outline beneath you. Hands rest firmly along your waist and he leans forward, a mixture of concern and lust raging in his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Your arms wrap behind his neck, anchoring yourself below as you waited with much anticipation, "Take your time, I'm right here."

It takes Rin a few long seconds for this realization to hit, spurring him to action. He pulls back slightly, one hand steady on your waist and the other gripping his arousal as he begins to slowly enter your folds inch by inch. A heatwave goes through his system at the feeling of your tight cavern clenching around the tip of his cock, Rin bites into his lip to control himself and gently pushed forward, sliding inside of your entrance and pushing through the thin strip of resistance while you begin to cry softly by his ear.

"I’m sorry," he apologizes when he hears you emit a sharp sound of pain, "We can stop if this is too much."

You hold onto him tighter, refusing to lift your chin from his shoulder. "It's fine," you manage to breathe out, "I'm trying to get used to you."

You moan and lower your hips, forcing him deeper inside of you, his length fully draped in your tight warmth. It's Rin's turn to wince, this time at the feeling of being fully inside. Without thinking about it and unable to control his body’s response, he begins to thrust his hips up towards yours slowly, still holding onto you firmly as you widen your legs under him.

"You're so tight." Rin rasps out, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders.

You fight back the tears and whimper, "It feels good, don't stop."

"I know," he coos, unable to keep from responding in the heat of the moment.

What started as slow, tepid lovemaking soon became rough and swift. Your muffled moans soon grow into loud, uncontrollable whines as you cry out your passion into the room. Rin screws his eyes shut and lets his concentration break, his mind fully focused on the feeling of you under and tight around him as he works his length as deep inside of you. All he can think about is how good you feel and how long he wanted this, and now finally being with you like this - so close and so unveiled - it's more than he can handle, more than he can believe.

Rin knows that he's moments away from falling apart completely. Feeling the cord tighten in his stomach, he leans forward to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently while he brought his fingertips to your sensitive nub and begins to circle around the area until your mewling grows further into a frenzy.

"Fuck," You begin to cry into his shoulders, fingers tearing at his hair, "It feels too good, baby."

Rin is too far gone at that point, and he realizes too late that his climax is bursting out of him, his cock leaking heavily into the wrapper. You're soon behind him, biting into his shoulder as your own orgasm hit, and the feeling of your walls gripping and clenching him only prolongs his own release and it leaves him feeling intoxicated and dazed.

He pulls his hand away from where it sat between you both, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, both your breathing laborious and loud. Rin tries to process the reality of what had just transpired, but he knows that he would never truly understand why he's lucky enough to be with you in this way.

"As cheesy as this sounds," You rake your fingers through his damp locks and giggle at his exhausted state, "I'm glad we waited to do this."

"I'm sorry that we didn't do this sooner," Rin replies quietly, nudging his face closer to your chest, "you did great."

"You made it great for me."

Your bodies breathe in rough synchronization and you leave the clean-up process to become tomorrow's worries.

Waking up to the sight of you drooling on him has quickly become one of his favorite things to look forward to. Rin doesn't even hide his intentions as he reaches for his phone and snaps a picture of you. The sound and flash from the device wake you and you soon take note of the wet mess that you had laid on his chest from the night before.

You let out a yelp, using the blankets to immediately wipe off any trace of saliva, "Delete that right now!"

Rin quickly saves it as his new phone background and shakes his head, "That's not on my to-do list today." Not like he has a to-do list, but he enjoys seeing this flustered side of you outside of the bedroom playground.

You pout, "Who knew you could be so mean?"

"My parents left that part out of my application for obvious reasons."

Before you could say anything more, Rin's phone buzzes in his hands, and his brother's ID flashes across the screen. This could mean one or two things, he's wishing him a happy birthday or his whole family is coming to visit. Considering that it's not even September yet, you can only assume the latter.

Rin scrambles to put on a pair of boxers and hops out of bed to take the call, "Be right back."

It had been almost three months since your in-laws last visited your home. With his older brother living abroad in Spain and his parents spending their retirement funds on travels, it was hard to find a good quiet week for everyone to fly over. But, when they do visit, it's always an impromptu visit on their end that leaves you scrambling around the house last minute. Rin knows how stressed that leaves you so when he gets off the phone with Sae, he immediately lets you know about the upcoming visit within the next three days. While most people may think three days is still short notice, at least that's better than waking up at 4 in the morning with everyone by the front door.

"How long do you think they're gonna stay for?" You step out of the shower in your bathrobe and eye the wall clock.

"Only two days, it'll be brief. My mother just wants to drop some stuff off and have dinner." He says while making the bed.

You hum in deep thought, "We can spend the rest of today grocery shopping when you get back from work if you want."

"I would like that."

Rin helps you clean the place for the first two days and then on the final day he spends all his time in the kitchen. He reassures that he'll handle the cooking since everyone in his family are picky eaters, especially his older brother.

"You sure you don't need help, babe?" You try and peer over his shoulders but his tall frame made it nearly impossible. Rin notices and takes a step aside for you to look.

He's wearing one of your pink, frilly aprons while chopping up various greens on the cutting board. On the stove he has three separate pots, one pot was nearly filled to the brim with bone broth and tender meat, the other was a smaller pot with already boiled vermicelli noodles, and the last pot is just a placeholder for raw vegetables.

"I've got it covered," He says with focus and tosses the last bit of cilantro into the third pot. "Is everything else ready for tonight?"

"Mhm," You lean against his side, engulfing your nose with the intense aroma from the meat, "The smell alone is riling me up." You said half-jokingly.

His eyes glimmer and immediately pauses his actions, "Maybe we could sneak one in before they arrive?"

You lightly pinch his shoulder and laugh, "Are you a sex addict now or something?"

"No," He sets down the knife and turns off the stove, face leaning into yours as he cages you in between his arms and the kitchen counter. "Maybe just a you addict."

You pinch his shoulder again, a little too roughly, and Rin winces. His lips ghost over yours and, with a simple touch, you latch your arms around his neck and press your lips together. It's firm, rough, and almost desperate. Rin's hand drifts up the back of your shirt, easily snapping the back of your bra band off, and soon gets a hold of one of your exposed breasts. You melt into his touch, whining when his fingers brush over a nub.

You reluctantly pull back when you smell the intense fragrance again, a faint string of saliva stretching and breaking in between you two, "What time are they coming over?"

He glances at the clock on the wall, "About an hour."

You snap your head towards the unfinished dining room table and curse under your breath, "I forgot to set up the plates and runner."

Rin caresses your cheeks, forcing you to readjust your attention back to him. "It'll be quick, don't worry." He ushers, placing your hands against his aching clothed length.

It’s almost like a trend with you two now. Finding odd moments to become intimate during a time crunch. "Fine," You press against his warmth and offer him a sultry smile, "but you're on cleaning duty."

"Fair enough deal." He groans at you, running his fingers across the now damp fabric of your panties.

Lifting a hand, you trace the outline of his face with your fingertip, admiring the sharp angular features and how his long lashes rest under his eyes as he breathed quietly. Your eyes fall on the firm definition of his biceps where they peeked from the black form-fitting t-shirt he always likes to wear around you.

Rin's eyes were glowing in that specific cloudy gaze again before he bashfully asks, "Can I go down on you?"

You shudder when his fingers press down on your clothed clit, "It's hard to say no when it's you, Rin."

He tugs at your waistband, easily slipping off the article of clothing to the ground, and watches you with greed in his eyes as you slither out of your soiled underwear. His hands grip firmly against your ass, lifting and placing you down gently on the counter, away from his carefully crafted meal prep. You shiver against the cold marble countertop and watch with anticipation as he slowly bends down to level his face between your wet heat.

He has already memorized and claimed your scent as his own; it’s a fierce and sweet concoction of hormones and needs that only his words and touch could elicit in you. As your aroma encircled him, Rin couldn't help but grow more and more thirsty. His fingers rest firmly on your folds, spreading you apart.

"Rin," You find yourself panting out his name, hands immediately tugging at his dark locks.

He nuzzles his face right into the wet slick, burying himself in your addicting warmth, "Be good for me, okay?"

Despite the rush of getting everything set up, Rin takes his time. His tongue makes its laps against your folds and he feels your trembling body as you buck against the countertop. You let out another moan, this time contained in your throat but still loud and sweet enough for him to hear, and the sound of it makes his length ache in return.

He tries to ignore the throbbing pain and focuses on your pleasure. His tongue dances in the forms of long, short, and fast strokes against your flesh, stopping only when he reaches your clit. Every time he stopped, your body tensed above him, and it made him smile knowing that he could get you like this. Rin hates to admit it but he loves to tease you as much as he loves to leave you awash with pleasure. As he continues to ravage from below, you begin to whine incoherently and lean back further until your back is flush against the cold countertop.

"Rin, please—" The knot growing in your stomach makes your hands ball up into fists in his hair, knuckles turning white from the immense pleasure.

He can't see your face but, judging from the cadence in how you called out his name, he knows that you're close. Seeing you behaving desperate and anxious only makes him love you ten times more than he had moments ago. Giving your thighs a light spank, his lips latch onto your clit, and rolls his tongue in circles.

He feels the vibrations of your moans echoing throughout your messy figure but he wants to finish you off in a way that'll turn you into putty in his hands. He sucks on your sensitive nerve one last time before pulling away, standing up, and using the back of his hand to wipe away the honey-coated slick that's across his face.

Before you get a chance to cry out in frustration, Rin seizes you by your waist and pulls your body forward so that your feet touch the floor. He meets with your flushed expression as you quietly gasp for air and pulls out a wrapper he had in his pockets.

"Can we?" He says it so tenderly.

"God," You can't help but laugh weakly at the sight, legs trembling from the built-up pressure, "You get cleaning duty and owe me brunch tomorrow."

He hums in agreement as he slips out of his sweats, erection raging red and getting fully wrapped around by the condom, "Consider that a date."

"Just don't take too long because we still—"

Bringing one hand up towards your cheek, he pulls you into a swift kiss that quickly silences you. Your words soon deteriorate into a muffled series of moans into his mouth as he gravitates his palm under your right thigh, lifting and spreading it just enough that he slips his length inside in one smooth glide.

"You fit so perfectly around me." He breathes between your ragged lips before lowering your leg, his thumbs taking place onto your hips.

Rin starts off his thrusts at a swift pace, not too rough but still reaching your deepest spots that had you clenching your eyes shut and tipping your head back. He winces at the tightness and warmth of your sex, suppressing back the moan that rose into a bubble in his throat but it's nearly impossible with how electrifying everything feels.

"Don't look away."

Your eyes flutter open and tilt your head forward, finding his smoldering gaze. Rin stares back, studying the way your lips part as you call his name and the way that your brows furrow in pleasure.

"That's it." He pumps a snap thrust into you, causing your hands to fly directly around his neck, holding onto him tight. "You're such a good girl."

The sound of his voice has always been able to produce flutterings in your heart, but hearing him talk to you like this, speaking words like that, is enough to sharpen the ache and send the deluge of your insides rushing forth like a dam has been breached.

The sounds coming out of you right now are inconvincible. Your sentences and his name starts sounding like a new language but he can't bother to listen to your nonsense chatter right now. Not while he's focusing so hard on the magnificent feel of your warmth that was melting him where he stood, his concentration on heightening your ecstasy until you break under his touch. He brings his hips as close to yours as he can, each stroke smooth and just deep enough to hit your spot every time he falls back into you. You shut your eyes again, dropping your forehead to his chin, and Rin grunts, letting himself drown in the overwhelming bliss of being inside of you.

"Tell me how it feels." He moans against your sweat-covered collarbones.

You launch yourself closer, now chest to chest with your husband, "It's so good—you take care of me so well!"

Another sharp thrust causes your walls to spasm crazy against his arousal, he nips at your neck in response, "I know I do."

He’d built you up so high earlier that it doesn't take long for you to fall apart. Your walls continue to tighten around him and your nails scrape lines into his shoulder blades. You're crying his name again, the sound bright and muffled against his neck, but Rin focuses on the feel of you losing yourself on his cock. You begin to lean against him, your body going slack and limbless.

Feeling a burning hot pressure grows inside his own core as he devours your sounds and drives into you with a few final deep pumps, unable to stop himself when he spills hot against the wrapper inside of you.

Rin is trembling as he finishes, and you're still vicing him in a death grip with the searing wet heat of your sex. Your sounds have mostly quieted now, minus the weak giggling, leaning completely limp against him. Your arms are still looped around his shoulders and the sweat from your brow trails his clavicle where your head had come to rest.

"How long do we have?" You finally breathe, brain still intoxicated by the rush of pleasure.

"15 minutes." He sighs and pulls outs, soon realizing the mess that you both had made all over his groin and legs.

A groan mumbles through your lips, "Think we have enough time to squeeze in a shower?"

Rin places a chaste kiss on your wet cheeks, "Not a chance."

It's a miracle how efficiently you two work under pressure. It's also no surprise that Rin is fast at almost everything he does. Whether it be running from one end of the field to the other or rushing to have the meals all perfectly set up by the dining table as your in-laws were just arriving through the door. You mentally thank him for giving you just enough time to fix your 'post-sex' crazed hair and take care of 'her' business.

By the time you arrive at the dining table, practically everything and everyone had already been seated and served. You shyly say your brief greetings before taking a seat next to Rin, "How was the flight over?"

Sae, who sat across from you, doesn't try to hide the disdain in his voice, "Still jetlagged and tired, if I'm being honest."

Rin picks up his noodles and sends his brother a questioning look, "You literally flew in first class." He jabs.

The older male fakes a yawn, "And? There's still a seven-hour time difference."

Your mother-in-law quickly interjects the growing tension, "It wasn't too bad, we had a layover in Shanghai which was nice, and we even brought gifts!" She reaches underneath the table, pulling out several luxury branded boxes and a lone black plastic bag that was stuffed to the brim with white fabric.

"That one is mine." Sae lamely points at the black bag which earns a huff from your husband. Of all the few times you've met his brother, you don't know if he's genuinely bad at giving out gifts or just did it on purpose to tick off Rin. "Wear it in private." He adds casually in a whisper.

"So," Your mother-in-law's voice chimes in an all too familiar tone at the dinner table, her chopsticks clinking against the noodles in the bowl as her eyes dart between the two of you on the other side. Her husband shifts awkwardly in the seat next to her and Sae mindlessly chews, though his head perks at the incoming conversation. "When are you guys expecting kids?"

You nearly spit out your meal in response, still not used to her directness, "Oh, umm..." Your eyes wander to Rin in hopes of a reasonable reply.

In the past, Rin would be quick to give an answer that fell more along the lines of "We're still getting to know each other" or "We're both busy to focus on that right now". Normally you wouldn't say anything in return and merely silently agree just because he was right. Plus, you never did feel comfortable admitting to his parents that you did indeed want to sleep with their son, maybe not pop out a baby anytime soon, but definitely slipping under the sheets.

You were half expecting Rin to spout out a similar retort this time around but, while looking over at his face, Rin shoots his parents a faint smile and squeezes your hand. This earned a loud gasp from everyone at the table, including yourself.

"Give us maybe two years?"

A time frame? An actual time frame? Everyone is thinking the same thing.

"Oh, my heavens..." His mom places a hand to her mouth and tears start pooling at the corners of her eyes. His dad immediately fetches her a napkin and holds her shaking figure in his arms, chanting that their dreams of having grandkids are now achievable.

Sae lets out an empty huff before giving a small congratulatory clap, "Guess you guys finally did something about that."

"About what?" You and Rin ask in unison.

Sae motions his hands in your direction, expression deadpan, "Sex." He says it loud enough for you to hear but thankfully your in-laws are too occupied crying tears of joy to realize what was said.

Rin glares at his brother and a loud thump was heard. You think your husband just kicked Sae underneath the table but Sae's face stayed unwavering. Or maybe he was trying to hold back his pained expression? You can’t read him that well.

"Quiet." Rin seethes but Sae only shrugs and tosses the black bag across the table.

"Open it up." Sae says a bit too eagerly.

Rin rips into the bag, and he groans when he pulls out two sweaters, the soft fabric spilling over his lap. He groans even more when he lifts one up, unfolding it and holding it at arm’s length. It’s a white baggy, comfortable-looking sweater. There’s black writing across the chest, the words ‘she's just my roommate’ plastered over the front in a Disney-styled font, with an arrow pointing to the right.

"The other one is for Y/N."

The second sweater is identical to the first in color and design, except this one has the words ‘I'm more than that’ with arrows pointing down.

Well, that's certainly embarrassing. You don't even bother questioning where he even ordered it from.

Rin lets the sweater fall onto his lap, "This is going to be our new dish rag. I'm not wearing this."

"Of course you will," Sae takes a sip from his glass and flicks over a rare smirk, "You're going to toss out your big brother's gift?"

"It is comfortable." You point out and Rin groans again when he sees you pulling the sweater over your head. Hair tousled from putting it on and the baggy look does look incredibly cute on you but still...

Sae clears his throat, "I get first dibs on naming the kid, by the way."

Rin rolls his eyes, "And what's the name?"

"Sae Jr."

Another loud thump and you could've sworn a tear rolled down his cheek.

It's Autumn by the time you finish your beloved passion project. You've spent the last few weeks hulled in your room after the family dinner, rapidly typing away on your keyboard for what seems to be hours that Rin legitimately thought he had to buy you a new one. You claimed that you finally knew how to piece the rest of the story together and you couldn't let the idea sit around. He respected your decision but still checked in every now and then to drop off takeout meals and water break reminders.

Once finished with the finalized novel, your penpals were the first ones to gain early access to it on your Patreon site. A quick video call from them in the middle of the night was all the confirmation you need to know that all the "pain" and "suffering" was worth it.

"See? This is why you're number one!" Bachira pops open a bottle of champagne while wearing a cheapy-made party hat.

Chigiri raises his own glass to toast, "How many physical copies are you printing out?"

"I think 500? I have to double-check with my manufacturer for the numbers. But that also means 500 books to sign and I am not looking forward to that."

Your friends roar over the speakers at the fact, downing another glass of alcohol.

Unaware of how noisy the sounds were coming from your phone, you failed to recognize Rin shifting around in his sleep. He wakes up with a low moan. You thought he was going to yell at you but only pulls you closer to his bare chest, his hand soon finding a place to rest on your stomach and eyes flutter open against your skin.

"Who are you talking to?" His raspy voice catches your friends' attention.

"Oh my god," Hiori tries to look closer into your video, "is that your husband?"

Shidou's screen flashes white for a second and grins, "He's hella sculpted."

"Wait, did you just take a screenshot?" Your eyes widen and quickly turn off the video before they could see Rin's face.

"Wait, we wanna see the hubby!"

Your friends begin to whine but your fingers hover over the red button, "Okay bye, thanks for all the love but I have to walk my fish tomorrow morning!" When the call drops, you turn to look at your half-asleep husband, whispering an apology.

He gently pinches your stomach and hums in contentment, "It's fine, but you have to wake up early tomorrow, right?"

"I do," You release a long sigh and press your back deeper into his chest. "But I'm proud of how everything turned out."

"I'm sure it'll be one of your best sellers." Rin hums against your spine, causing you to giggle in reaction.

"Yeah," You reply quietly. "I mean, I hope it does well. I literally wrote a book about us."

He hugs you tighter, looking at you with a faraway look in his eyes, "Life imitates art, I guess."

You feel like you're going to burst with a rush of emotions. With all things considered, you both had come pretty far. "Hey, Rin?"

His lips brush against your shoulders, "Yeah?"

In a barely audible voice, you whisper, "I love you."

The words hang in the air for a split moment. With half-lidded eyes laced with drowsiness, Rin blinks slowly, the corners of his lips twisting into a serene smile.

He leans close to plant a longing kiss on your forehead before rejoining without hesitation, "I love you too."

[ I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK ]

Hana Kay has dedicated her entire career to writing erotica professionally. Everything in her life was going all according to plan when she finally hits a million followers and gets a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get featured on Today's Morning Show. Nothing stands in her way, not even the jarring fact that she's a virgin and that she's too afraid to even touch her own husband. But when Hana has a face-to-face meeting with her seething editor and a fight with writer's block, she has no choice but to face her fears.

YN Finalis resides in the Tokyo Metropolitan area with her husband, who is the sole inspiration for this story. She considers herself a self-proclaimed "guilty pleasure" writer who loves to create uncanny stories for her readers. Please send all messages to the following email below and for physical fan mail please address to the PO Box right after. She strongly requests that her fans send in owl plushies and any merch featuring her favorite football player Rin Itoshi!

Make sure to grab YN Finalis' signed limited edition hardcover novel at your local bookstore or you can order online on her website for just 19.99 USD / 2865 ¥!

Thank you and happy reading!

a/n: WOAH sorry that took longer than expected i didn't expect life to hit that hard so soon! ty again everyone for the love and support for this series!!! this is my first time really writing anything smut related so I'm glad it didn't turn out to be doodoo. let me know who you wanna see in my next long fic series!!! I'll put out a poll soon hehe

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mc-i-r · 10 months

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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lyneira · 1 year

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random spicy headcanons featuring haganezuka, rengoku, tengen, sanemi, giyuu, and gyomei!

fem!reader x rengoku, tengen, giyuu, gyomei, sanemi, haganezuka (separate)

cw: penetration, oral, praise kink, breeding kink, body worship, mentions of kama sutra positions

RENGOKU (continued, check out my first post!)

Fucks fast, and like I said in my initial post about him, he'd enjoy a position where he's firmly grounded in order to fuck you at the speed he desires. Therefore, he'd likely prefer to be standing up as he thrusts into you. Maybe having you on the edge of the bed in mating press as he stands, hovering over you as his cock slams into your core repeatedly. Or he might fuck you up against the wall, holding onto your thighs wrapped around him as you'd cling to him for dear life. Not only does he have incredible speed, but he also has the stamina to match it. Everything that he'd do would be overwhelming.

eager as heck, if you even mention anything relating to having sex or mention even the subtlest innuendo, he'll be stripping off his clothes and will be pouncing on you immediately the moment you two were finally alone. And when he'd pull down his pants, you'd see that his cock would be proudly shot up, hard with precum staining his tip. He'd been holding in his arousal for you this entire time and would be making you responsible for it.

If you asked him to be slow, he would go slow...initially. It's until he's swept up in the ecstasy of your cunt squeezing around him and sucking him in that he'd begin to both quicken his pace and bury himself inside of you even deeper.

The faster he thrusts, the more he would run his mouth and babble on like, "haa, you feel so good! so good..!! I think I'm gonna cum...ah-! Cum with me, y/n..! I wanna feel you release around me...!" and before you can say a word, he'll let his seed spill into your core, letting out a choked moan as he does so. Although he pauses for a second to catch his breath from his high, he wouldn't waste any more time before continuing to thrust into you, ensuring that his wish be granted. And so it would when he he reaches down to rub circles on your clit and hits your sweet spot. With the spasming of your walls, you'd finally let you're own juices envelop him, and he'd smile at the sound of each wet, sloppy smack that occured as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of you. "Ahaha...there we go...that's a good girl"

he'll always be honest with you, even if it might sound a little graphic. He might tell you something like, "be prepared for what's coming later. I'm gonna fuck you 'til the morning comes" and none of it would be an exaggeration. He will be fucking you until the sun rises. He's not one to say things just for show. Anything that he says is a promise to you. So when he also says that he'll make you cum over and over again, you will be coming over and over again. And if he says that you'll be having his babies, you will be carrying his children soon enough.

UZUI

would totally manhandle you and would do you in the freakiest positions that would test the flexibility of both you and him, as well as strength. With his physique and physical prowess, putting you in any kind of position would be so easy for him. Whether he'd have known the positions in the kama sutra or not, he would've already tried them out with you. 69, Lotus position, Plough position, Hero position, Star position, Frog position- you name it. This man is kinky as he is flashy.

Tengen's a total dom, but I think he'd have times where he'd enjoy laying back and letting you do most of the work. Therefore, unlike Kyojuro, he'd probably enjoy having sex sitting down or laying down. Probably would enjoy you riding him with you straddled on his lap, in a cowgirl or reverse cowgirl position. And he wouldn't mind you sitting down either... particularly on his face. Don't you dare try to hold back by simply hovering your pussy over his lips, he wants you to truly sit and feel all of your weight pressing down on him. That way, he could give your lower lips the deepest kisses, as well as the most passionate french kisses, delving his tongue deeper into you. He'd enjoy watching the exasperated and blissful look on your face as he pleasured you from below, widening his smile into your cunt

He'd punish you if you were ever being naughty or difficult, and would do so by edging you, and then overstimulating you. Again, he'd observe your face, waiting until your brows furrowed and your mouth went agape as he was fucking you into your next high. Yet, before you could ever reach it, he'd quickly pull out, letting your walls clench over nothing. Despite your pouts and glances of frustration at him, he'd do this multiple times until he can no longer resist your adorable expressions. So when he finally lets you orgasm, seeing the blush spread on your cheeks and cloudy look of lust shroud over your half-lidded eyes, he can't help but continue to fuck you. Then those hazy eyes of yours would soon be flooded by tears, overwhelmed by the stimulation he would be giving you.

would probably enjoy fucking you doggy style too though, so that he could slap your ass easily.

I think he wouldn't mind public sex? The thrill of possibly getting caught would entice him. With that risk of getting caught, he'd be teasing bastard for sure, and a cocky one too. He'd be the type to hush you when your moans were growing in volume, "Quiet now, darling... you wouldn't want anyone to hear you now, would you?", all while having the biggest smirk on his face. And the most irritating thing about all of this is that the truth is he would definitely want someone to hear how good he was fucking you, and you know it.

HAGANEZUKA

Look, I know Haganezuka can have a rough and aggressive streak with his temper, but I think he'd have the capacity to be just as tender.

Okay, this is gonna be a weird analogy but hear me out: If he loves you enough, he'd treat you the same way he'd treat his swords-- with extreme care. So much that I see him being into body worship, trailing kisses up and down your body, and muttering his adoration of you against your skin. He'll be passionate about you and it'll show in the way he holds your body so delicately, afraid of giving you the slightest scratch.

And with that kind of passion for you, it'd feel like heaven to him when he's finally able to thrust it all into you, all of his love and admiration.

On the other hand, I don't think he'd mind it at all if you left scratches and bite marks on him during the act. In fact he'd love it if you did. Just as he receives scars and callouses as a result from smithing the toughest blades, he'd view the marks you'd give him as a testament to how well he was fucking you. He would bean with pride at the sight of it.

This is kinda weird, but I'd see him putting up windchimes in the bedroom as to soothe him and assist him in being more gentle whenever his temper is raging. He knows how big he is and how he could get carried away in the heat of the moment, letting all his frustrations out on you, so he'd try, to the best of his ability, to be more soft. The last thing he'd want is for you to get hurt, after all, and if that means having to set up windchimes around the room, so be it.

also, he'd be the type to growl when he's balls-deep inside of you and you're squeezing around him so tightly. I just know it.

The persistence and determination of this man would be off the charts. He's not stopping until he's fucked you right; that means he isn't stopping unless your body was trembling and spasming underneath him, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure he was giving you. Feeling the way your thighs would shake at the sides of his head and feeling the way you would jerk your hips into his mouth as he ate you out, would please him so much.

SANEMI

My initial thought for Sanemi would be that he's a mean dom, but I honestly feel like he could be a soft/service dom too. This man is just a big tsundere

I think he'd totally start off sex like, "Ha! You're such a dirty whore. If you want my cock so much, then beg for it" but as he's fucking you, he'd whisper, under gritted teeth, nearly reaching his climax, "I love you so fucking much...cum with me, yeah? come on, I've got you"

Like, he puts up a rough and intimidating front, but would totally melt in your arms if you gave yourself to him and took care of him.

cradle his head as he sucks on your tiddies, he'd be drunk on your milk and would smother his face in between them. He also wants to take care of you, so he'd probably finger you as he sucked upon your breasts, giving you stimulation in both erogenous areas. And when you release, he'll pull them out to lick off your nectar stained on his thick fingers, and would give you a kiss, allowing you to get a taste of yourself

Most of all, Sanemi always wants to protect you. He'd probably cling to your waist tightly as he fucked you. While his embrace might give you a sense of security, it would also do the same for him. You were here in his arms, safe and sound, where nothing could ever harm you; that all what matters to him

Call out his name in bed, it would delight him tremendously. Hearing you scream for him would not only swell his pride, but more importantly, it would make him feel needed. So when you call out his name, of course, he'll be there for you, and would tend to your needs.

Screaming his name as he further buried himself inside you, he'd lowly groan into your ear, "I'm here, pretty girl...and I'm gonna make you cum all over me. I know you'll love that"

I'll probably write mean dom Sanemi in another post, stay tuned LOL

GYOMEI

he will be the most gentle with you. He's so afraid of hurting you, but still wants to pleasure you.

Your pleasure is his pleasure, so when he hears your sweet sighs and moans, it would all shoot straight down to his cock

Therefore, in that case, he'd likely have you take the reins more often when it comes to sex. He'd enjoy you riding him, hitching his breath when you first gently insert the tip into your cunt, getting used to his girth, before letting yourself sink down on him to take a little bit more of his length, which was already stretching you out like crazy. He'll let you take your time putting it inside, and when your walls have adjusted and his length is able to slide in and out with ease, he'll begin thrusting up into you himself. As you begin to tire out and he's reaching his own high, he'll instinctively take hold of your hips and bounce you on his cock with his own strength. So even if your legs give out and you go limp, he'll still be fucking you.

Your jaw will most definitely hurt after sucking him off, because everything about him is HUGE

He'd be perceptive in bed, listening closely to your breathing, your heartbeat, to your moans and cries, taking note of which motions bring you pain or pleasure, and he'll make love to you accordingly. Despite observing all of these things, he'd still make sure to verbally ask you if you were okay.

Even though he aims to be gentle, he isn't opposed to bringing you to your limits during sex. He wouldn't want neither of you to miss out on the euphoria that the act of making love has to offer due to fear. He wants to make love to you wholeheartedly. Thus, he'll often grasp your hand firmly to reassure you when he was splitting you open and after you both reach your highs, he'll softly caress your cheek and press a deep kiss to your temple, telling you how good you've done

GIYUU

not very vocal, the most he'll do is grunt or groan.

Rather, he communicates a lot more through his eyes (if you've watched the demon slayer ova, you'll know what I'm talking about). He believes that "the eyes are the windows into a person's heart", so he would always seek your gaze as he makes love to you, wanting to know how you're feeling, how much you're enjoying it, and in his gaze, you'd find such admiration looking back at you. His eyes would always be seeking your permission before proceeding

hence, he'd prefer positions in which he can face you (so missionary, cowgirl, mating press, all that jazz)

he'd fall for you all over again if you would tell him what you love about him or praised him in general during sex because he cares about what you think of him. Heck, if you just said that he feel so good, then that's enough to make him bust a nut lol

a/n: I honestly did giyuu a little dirty by not giving him as many hcs, I'll probably continue his in another post lol

#kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #rengoku smut #tengen smut #haganezuka smut #sanemi smut #gyomei smut #giyuu smut #rengoku x reader #tengen x reader #haganezuka x reader #sanemi x reader #gyomei x reader #giyuu x reader #lyneira's spicy stuff~♤#nene writes~♡

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familyvideostevie · 7 months

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watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore, and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders.

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe.

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go.

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre."

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor.

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes.

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you.

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.

"Miss me?"

"Dumb question," he mutters.

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch.

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man.

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar.

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be.

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid.

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed.

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar.

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek.

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's.

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums.

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his.

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games.

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time.

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you."

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun."

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly.

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move.

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him.

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think.

"Got any gossip for me yet?"

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it.

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face.

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed.

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway.

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs.

"Joel?" you call quietly.

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late.

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it.

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark.

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question.

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute."

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here.

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs.

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl.

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together.

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?"

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks.

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder.

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here.

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you.

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy."

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

Unfit

Warning: Just fluffin' and mild angst.

Summary: Mama isn't feeling well. Comfort ensues.

A/N: Was under the seasonal blues and wrote this. ~ Hugs if you're not doing that good as well. ❤️

Rain had been waning through the day only to return full force on bed time. Sometimes you wished to have Rosie's or Benjamin's deep sleep. Even Gabriella's. But all you could muster was to sit on the bed's edge and let the heavy emotional toll that had crept like a crawler in your head, to hang. Just like your head and your slumping shoulders.

Be it the weather or your recurrent thoughts about the many things that had transpired in your life to sit before you, in half a circle. Ready to throw their worst at your mind. You felt like being the object of their judging and scrutinizing gaze.

Family, followed by fears, next to it anxiety, and in the last seat, insecurities. Their presence alone had made you grip the bed's edge with such force you could feel the sturdy springs.

A shaky breath gave a green flag to your tears, allowing them to slid down your flushed cheeks. The past few days had been rough on your head, if not the whole week. But motherhood had grope you by the neck so tightly and kept you as busy as ever, you had forgotten on how to process your emotions correctly.

Ironic as it was you were always encouraging your own children and even Miguel to do so. And sometimes, like right now, your emotional needs were too loud to be neglected any further.

The rain's tempo increased, letting a rumble tear through the sky and light it up with a lightning. Miguel entered the room, slipping into a red flannel, his favorite, but stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

Wobbly shoulders, silent sobs and sniffs and the sheets crumpled underneath your fisted hands on the mattress.

"Mi amor?"

His voice forced to wipe the tears instantly, allowing the cushioned surface to breath for a moment, and still you were unable to face him. The bed dipped behind you under his weight, his hand reached for your defeated shoulders, maneuvering you with such care and gentleness that had you at the brink of breaking again.

It was only when you were embraced by him, smothered in his arms and chest that you broke. His muscles tensed for a second upon hearing you so distressed. Had he done something? No. It wasn't him. It was something more complex than that.

He shushed you while his hands ran through your hair, reassuring, comfortingly smooth. His lips kissed your forehead, making the silent affirmation of being there for you. His other hands rubbed small circles on your back, coaxing the calm that had hid behind your surfacing messy feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

His voice a soft murmur. You nodded.

A few more tears were shed before you tried to settle the shaky and brokenness in your own voice at bay. Your nose sniffled as your lip quivered.

"I... I feel overwhelmed. Afraid and tired."

His thumbs wiped away the fresh tears and looked at you, coaxing you to continue.

"I feel so unfit in so many levels it's ridiculous." You heaved, trying to ease the knot in your throat, "I feel like I'm not being a good mother, that... Im not a good person to be around sometimes, so unfit for you."

He frowned but listened. Bloodshot eyes turning glossy once more

"I know you love me to death but... sometimes my head play such dirty tricks on me is stupid how easy I let them win." Your lids dropped for a moment before let your eyes resume their stare on him.

"I feel so overwhelmed at little things, that shouldn't have that effect on me. Cause you're always there, reminding me of how amazing I am, but my brain it's simply unable to grasp around it."

The lump in your throat engorged, making it difficult to breath.

" I feel unfit for being a mother cause it's hard. I love my babies to death, but I can't help but feel that I'm slacking at something and... and...-"

His arms squeezed you gently and held you closer, hiding for a second your trembling face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry to be just bawling over stupid thoughts and making you stay up later than usual."

"Mi reina." His tone was firm, yet soft, fingers reached for your chin making you to gaze at him once more, "You have nothing to apologize for."

He sighed and removed an unruly strand out of your face.

"I sometimes feel this exact way too. I feel a shitty husband, that I'm not properly taking my role as your friend, and so many other similar things. But"

He inhaled, making you mimick him.

"By the end of the day they are nothing but thoughts. I know it's hard to fight them. Hell, feel kinda hypocritical right now by saying this but-" He smooched you.

"You are not your thoughts, cariño."

His words were the balm your broken spirit craved. And it craved it badly.

"I can't help but feel like every day is a bad day. Gabi has grown so fast I'm... starting to dread her teenage phase."

"We all have bad days. Today is one of them too, nothing wrong in that. And she'll be good. We've raised her well."

Your head was shaken with a weak nod.

"As for being a bad mother, cómo es que dicen los jovenes?" (How do youngsters say it?)

His bushy eyebrows squinted as he tried to remember to then lit up at getting it, "You... Uh... You tripping?"

That earned him a little giggle from you, his eyes softened at the gesture.

"Dios mío, don't say that again." You couldn't hold back an ugly snort.

"No Cap. Just fax."

You cringed and giggled in between little hiccups.

"Fax? What are you even talking about?"

He spoke in between titters and silent laughs, but the idiocy of it all had made you laugh and curl up closer.

"You gotta slay my queen."

"Stop, oh my god"

"Pero ya, hablando en serio." (But hey, talking in all seriousness) He cleared his throat and cupped your cheeks.

"You're the best mom, wife, woman and best friend I could ever have. And I'm a blessed man to have you and my little spiders."

"Even if they are so..."

"Annoying at times? yeah. They are. No judgement here. Parenting is hard."

You nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

"Nothing wrong with admitting we get tired from time to time."

"I wished we could have vacations from it."

Your tears had been long dry, but your face remained on his chest.

"We will, once Rosie is a bit more grown. How about that?"

"I'd love to, yeah."

"Go to a girl's night with Jessica and MJ in the meantime. I'll handle the kids."

"Really?"

"Claro. Can't have my wife feeling shitty and do nothing about it."

Miguel kissed your forehead once more and squeezed you in his arms.

"You're always taking care of us that you often tend to forget about yourself."

"Learned that from you" You half chuckled and he swatted your head gently.

"No aprendas mañas." (Don't learn the bad things)

You giggled and he caressed your cheek gently. Eyes softening at you

"Feeling better?"

"Kinda. Gimme a kiss"

He did and smothered you closer.

"Anything else you wanna talk about?"

"Not really."

"Segura?" (You sure)

"Yeah"

"C'mere." He hooked his leg on yours, trapping your body underneath it and part of his torso. You didn't squeal like other times, rather relished in his warmth.

"Te amo, Miguel."

"También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#wife reader #Mama O'Hara

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enwifen · 19 days

Text

i just can’t choose one! (p.js, s.jy, p.sh)

pairing. poly!02z x fem reader

genre. domestic, slice of life, fluff

warnings. 02z being cuties, reader being overwhelmed with love (me when <\3), healthiest of healthy relationships, communication bc we love that for them

wc. 1.3k

note. this fic was inspired by @all4aoki ‘s poly fics ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა there really should be more poly enha content on here…

Evening ver.

The first one to welcome you home is Jay, he’s usually watching football on the tv but immediately stops paying attention once he hears the jingle of your keys behind the door

You’re immediately brought in for a hug, a soft “hey babe” muttered against your hair

Once you pull away Hoon’s already behind Jay, smiling with his arms open. He usually asks how your day was and if you say anything other than good you’ll earn a cute pout from him and a “anything we can do to make it better?”

Sometimes Jake will be asleep upstairs, he’ll be upset if you dont say hi to him even if he’s taking a nap so you make sure to tiptoe into your shared room, gently shaking him and getting the cutest sleepy mumble of: “oh… y/n you’re home…” before you let him go back to sleep

You freshen up while Hoon cooks dinner downstairs, out of the four of you, he cooks the most often, second would be you and third Jay. Jake doesn’t really cook and would rather nibble while lingering in the kitchen which is why he can’t really be trusted in there. He can also be a little clueless when it comes to cooking (it’s adorable though)

Hoon likes to have you taste test whatever he’s making. Secretly, it’s rarely to hear whether the food is good or not but rather to hear you praise him

Jay likes to be a little shit and fake gag loudly when he hears “you’re such a good cook hoonie!”

“You two are gross.” He quips

“Ignore him, baby, want another taste?” Sunghoon smiles. You giggle at the former’s childish antics.

Jake comes down when dinners ready, yawning and ruffling his hair.

“Hey sleepyhead~” you coo. He goes to sit next to you which causes him and Jay to bicker over whose turn it is to sit beside you. Jay wins via rock-paper-scissors and Jake pouts whilst switching seats. Hoon shakes his head while watching the whole thing go down.

Hoon occasionally spoon feeds Jake seeing as he’s still a little groggy. “C’mon dude, you’re not a baby you know.” He says, all while smiling because he loves doing it really.

“You wouldn’t complain if it was y/n!” Jake whines.

“…That’s different.” You laugh because it’s really not, Jay comments on how hoon seems to be in his ‘tsundere era’

Cue more teasing of your dear ice prince because seeing his cheeks and tips of his ears go pink might just be the cutest thing in the world.

Tonight’s dish duty falls on you and Jay. The two of you actually work well together and get them done pretty quickly. If you take a little longer on a plate, he’ll either offer to help or hug you from behind and watch you.

He’s the type to enjoy watching you do literally anything even if it’s as mundane as washing dishes.

Jake and Sunghoon are cuddled up in the living room browsing Netflix. “What’s taking them so long…” Jake whines.

“Shh, they’ll be done soon, now what do you wanna watch?” (Hoon’s the best when it comes to dealing with whiny Jake)

You sit between Jay and Jake for movie night, one hand holding Jay’s and the other playing with Jake’s hair.

At some point, your head ended up on Jay’s shoulder and you fell asleep

Sunghoon carries you to bed since he’s better at picking you up without waking you up

The night ends with you snuggled up between your boys, Jake clinging to Sunghoon from behind, Sunghoon’s arm draped over your waist and Jay’s hand gently stroking your cheek- ignoring Hoon telling him to stop otherwise he’ll wake you.

Hoon is usually the last to fall asleep, preferring to watch over the three of you, he only sleeps once he knows the rest of you are all asleep. (We love a protective man)

Morning Ver

Neither Jay or Sunghoon are morning people so it’s usually you who wakes up first!

Despite falling asleep in the middle of Jay and Hoon it’s Jake who wakes up, following you to the kitchen

Sunghoon jokes that Jake only wakes up early to get to decide on what’s for breakfast.

Because Jake seems to act like he’s never eaten a day in his life, whoever’s cooking will always make his breakfast first so he can eat early

(Only to steal bits of food from either yours or Hoons plate when you all eat later.)

But you don’t mind since it stops his from snacking whilst you cook, smiling fondly while making eggs for yourself and your other two boyfriends.

Sunghoon wakes up a few minutes later, immediately smiling as the smell of scrambled eggs seeps through the cracks of the bedroom door. He gets up carefully to not wake Jay (even though said man sleeps like a log, seriously, not even a fire could wake this guy.)

Because of how graceful and agile Hoon is, you never hear him walk downstairs, only aware of him once his arms circle your waist. It used to make you jump, and sometimes it still does, but now you just hum a soft “good morning~” and nodding when he asks if you slept well.

Some days, like today, Jay likes to sleep in for a really long time so by the time he comes down, you and Hoon are already halfway through breakfast.

“You guys didn’t wait for me?” He pouts.

“We would have if you didn’t have important dreamland duties…” Jake chuckles.

Jay sulks for a little and is only cheered up after being babied by you while you feed him breakfast.

“Now look who’s being gross…” Sunghoon grins around his mug.

“Shut up.” Jay grumbles back.

Jake and Sunghoon take care of the dishes this time. You would help but if you and Jake were left to do it… let’s just say water and bubbles would be flying pretty quickly and Sunghoon is not fond of having more mess to clean up.

Jay is more than happy to have you to himself for a few moments, cuddling with you on the couch whilst peppering your face with kisses. He loves nothing more than making you burst out into a fit of giggles.

Sunghoon has some work to do so he heads up into his home office, leaving you, Jay and Jake to spend time together.

The boys feel like playing video games and this morning you don’t feel up for it so you decide to play on your phone instead.

Though at some point you’re just watching them play.

You enjoy the few moments you get to witness how your boyfriends interact whenever they’re not all over you.

Jake being Sunghoon’s baby boy is already a thing you find cute but with Jay he’s more playful. They like to tease one another a lot especially when it comes to gaming, Jake’s slightly better than Jay and likes to rub it in his face.

“Y/n, instead of just sitting there, maybe defend me a little?” You laugh and get up to gently peck his cheek.

“Sorry baby, the two of you are just too cute I couldn’t help but watch~”

Jay rolls his eyes playfully, focusing on button mashing.

Your attention is diverted elsewhere after you hear a call of your name coming from upstairs.

“Be back in a sec!” You say, making your way up to Sunghoon’s office.

“Hoonie?”

The man in question swivels around in his chair and good lord does he look good. He’s changed out of his pyjamas into a button up with a few of the top buttons loose, you assume he had been on some sort of work call.

He pats his lap, signalling for you to come sit.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He smiles, sharp teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he bites it. “Is it bad I just wanted to steal you away for awhile?”

You giggle and shake your head. “Not at all~”

Watching your boyfriend work wasn’t the most interesting thing in the world but you were perfectly content spending time with him like this regardless, busying yourself with playing with his hand instead.

“Hey Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Which one of us do you love more?” Sunghoon grins cheekily. You notice he asks this question every once in a while and you think it’s because he finds your answer cute.

“Mm… I can’t choose!”

#sunghoon x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fic #enhypen x you #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha headcanons #enha jake #enha x reader #enha sunghoon #enha jay #park jongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun fic #enhypen 02z #poly enhypen

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hwaslayer · 3 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | sixteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, seonghwa, physical fighting, mingi calling his friend out on his stupidity, crying, sorry if i missed anything.. quickly edited this lol, yunho is just mad and overwhelmed with his feelings rn 😭

yunho: baby

yunho: wait at the science building later, please? i'll come get you so we can walk to my car together

you: okee ☺️

yunho: ☺️ see you later? enjoy the rest of your classes

you: you too, my bighead!

Yunho smiles at his phone before tucking it away, slowly following Yeosang to their group study session.

"Should I even ask why you're smiling like that?" Yunho looks up at Yeosang and chuckles.

"Just Y/N."

"Of course. Is she in class?"

"Yup. She's in the back row being all distracted."

"Perfect way to pass time in my honest opinion." Yeo clears his throat. "I've been meaning to ask you out of curiosity."

"What's up?"

"Have you guys told each other 'I love you' and everything?"

"Mm, no. Not yet at least."

"Not yet?" Yeosang smiles. "You feel that way for her, don't you?"

"I do. I just.. I don't know? I don't know if it's too soon. What if I scare her off?"

"Nah, doubt that. You can't put a timer on these things."

"True. Plus, it sounds cliché and like it's out of a movie, but I truly wanna wait 'till it feels right to say it to her."

"That makes sense."

"Trust me, I really do feel that way for her." He lets out a breath as they look towards the library building, the sun from behind slightly blinding them as they approach the doors. "She has literally become my bestfriend. It's crazy how life works."

"I know. I remember when you first told me you were helping her out for literature." Yeosang chuckles. "Or when you'd save her in the back lot."

"Still can't believe that was even real." Yunho does a tiny head tilt. "He's really something."

"What was up with Y/N's birthday thing? How did he even know?"

"I don't know. Word gets around fast. Why wouldn't Seonghwa know? Especially since it has to do with Y/N."

"Can't wait till the day he leaves you two alone. Must be fucking annoying to deal with."

"I try not to mind it. Though, I think he's been getting bolder lately and I can't put my finger on it."

"Has Y/N said anything?" He shakes his head.

"No. Maybe I'm just overthinking. She just seemed a little weird about him at her birthday party."

"Well, yeah. It's Seonghwa." Yeosang waves at their study group sitting at the far end of the library in the loud section.

"Yeah, but, I don't know. It was different. She seemed bothered about something but she hasn't told me anything. I assume it's not a big deal."

"Hm. Well, I'm sure it's not either. Just Seonghwa being himself, maybe."

"Mm, whatever though." Yunho greets the study group as they approach the table. "She's my girlfriend now, and that won't change." Yeosang gives him a small smile before they settle with the group and begin their long study session together.

"Remember, we have a test next class. Make sure you study everything I included in the study guide. Don't skip on anything just because you think it's a minor detail! Nothing is minor!" Your professor says before dismissing the class. You let out a sigh, already stressing over the next test. You didn't do bad on the first test, but you also didn't do the greatest. Thankfully, you're still at a good point in the semester, which gives you enough time to pull your grade up.

Once the initial rush of people leaving the classroom dies down, you pack up your things and head out the door. You hurry out of the classroom and down the steps, excited to see your boyfriend after yet another long day. For a split second, the building is crowded with other students leaving their classes and heading to their next destination— whether it be the next class, the library or to their cars. It's a sudden swarm of people that you don't even realize Seonghwa had stepped out of his own class, following you down the corridor.

"Y/N." You hear Seonghwa's voice behind you. You try to mind your own business, subtly rolling your eyes as you walk out of the science building to reunite with Yunho.

Except, he isn't exactly there yet and Seonghwa grabs you by the wrist.

"Y/N." He repeats, turning you to face him.

"What are you doing?" You question him.

"Just a second." You let out a loud, heavy sigh. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you ignoring me. You haven't answered any of my texts or calls—"

"Why do I need to?" You raise a brow. "You're not actually serious, right? I have no reason to respond to you, Seonghwa. Don't you have places to be, people to see?" You pause. "Don't you realize you're a little too late? This was something I needed from you way before. I don't need it from you now."

"I know it's late, but I don't wanna give up on this."

"This? This has been done for a long time, you and I both know that. You're only worried about losing the only safety blanket you've ever had. Why can't you just move on and let me be happy?"

"Happy?" Seonghwa almost scoffs. "With him? Okay, baby." He shakes his head. "Listen. Enough of this for real. Can you please just hear me out, I'll explain and apologize properly—"

"Seonghwa, stop calling me that. What don't you understand about no?" You say almost at a whine, his hand still having a grip on the edge of your wrist. You truly don't want to entertain this, but Seonghwa almost gives you no way out, no way around his bullshit, and unfortunately, that'll be the root of everything that unfolds tonight. Yunho is happily [and eagerly] making his way down to you after the long, heavy study group session, while Yeosang decides he's gonna stay behind in order to hit the gym and get his workout in. Yunho is a few minutes late, but he knows you'll still flash him that beautiful, million-watt smile he adores so much before wrapping your arms around him.

He can't wait.

But, Yunho slows in his steps just as he's close to the front doors; familiar voices filling the surprisingly empty, quiet space. It's you, and he already feels himself boiling with anger when he hears who else is occupying your time right now.

"Why haven't you even said anything about the flowers and the card I gave you? Did you even get them?" Yunho overhears Seonghwa ask you, and he furrows his brows. What flowers and card? You don't answer right away, and Seonghwa is quick to follow up. Yunho doesn't even get to hear your response about it and the most upsetting part of all this— is that this is how he finds out about everything.

Not from you, but from Seonghwa.

"You couldn't even send me a text? I was worried you didn't get it. I wanted to talk to you afterwards."

"What is there to talk about?"

"Yeah, what is there to talk about?" You and Seonghwa turn towards Yunho, who stands there with his hands dug deep into his pockets. His jaw is slightly clenched, head titled to the side while he waits for a response. Seonghwa lets out a pathetic chuckle, hand slipping down your wrist as he fully faces him.

"Loverboy sounds upset over a little talk."

"A little talk? Is that an add-on for the flowers and card you sent her?" Yunho sounds more stern, more angry. You can't even blame him, but at the same time, it's unusual for you to hear him this way. You're not sure what could come out of this and you don't necessarily want to find out.

"I'm sorry, should I have sent you some, too?" Seonghwa steps closer to him and the panic starts to settle in for you. You wish someone, anyone, was around to help. Because although you don't think Yunho will let this blow out of proportion, you aren't 100% about your answer. You're not sure how Yunho manages his anger in these situations and you're not sure what triggers him; what tips him over the edge and is the 'cherry on top.' Seonghwa has always rubbed him the wrong way and you don't think this could end remotely pretty. "I'll take note of that for next time so you don't have to sit there and stare at Y/N's."

How you wish Seonghwa had just gotten the point. Why couldn't he just let you be? Why was he out to ruin your happiness so badly?

"Seonghwa. This is done. Let it go." You warn him, but it doesn't clear anything. You aren't getting through to any of them.

"Back up. I'm not asking." Yunho clenches his jaw as he comes face to face with Seonghwa, making him give off a small scoff.

"Aw. Loverboy's mad—" And that's exactly the tipping point for Yunho. He's not sure why, he usually has a lot of patience. He usually brushes things off easily, doesn't hold a grudge or stay angry for long. But, Seonghwa? He was a different story, especially because of the history you have with him. Every little thing about Seonghwa pisses him off— down to the way he moves, breathes, acts like he can always get his way so easily, so quickly. Before he can even think about the consequences, or how you'd feel, Yunho swings at him, making Seonghwa stumble backwards.

"Yunho!—" You gasp, Yunho's initial punch is pretty rough that it had Seonghwa in shock before being able to register what just happened.

"Fuck you—" Is all Seonghwa spits out before going at Yunho. The two continue to go at it, pushing and gripping at each other's shirts, rough attempts at landing punches;

They're almost successful with tearing each other's heads off until you step in between and get involved.

"Stop!" You step in between to try and prevent the fight from escalating even more. "Stop it!" You push Seonghwa back when he tries coming for Yunho, a campus security guard dashing towards all of you to completely break up the scuffle.

"Knock it off! The hell are you two doing acting like this on campus? I suggest you two part ways now before we call the cops over!"

"Yo, what the fuck?!" Mingi comes from around the corner, grabbing at Seonghwa's arm to pull him back. "The fuck are you doing, dude?" He looks at his bestfriend in disbelief.

"Why don't you ask your friend who fucking started it—"

"Me?" Yunho spits, while Seonghwa wipes the blood at the corner of his lip. "I wouldn't have had to if you just knew how to back the fuck off!" Yunho is angry, continuing to raise his voice. "Let me catch you sending shit to my girlfriend one more time and see what the fuck I'll do—"

"Yunho." You say softly, tugging back at his arm.

"Are you serious?" Mingi looks at Seonghwa. "You don't go messing around with people's relationships, Hwa. You need to let this go, you look crazy!"

"Oh, so all of a sudden you're sticking up for your friend?"

"Yeah, because he is my friend and it's just shit you don't do! What the fuck don't you understand about that?! You fucking deserved that shit!" Mingi shakes his head before pushing Hwa forward, pulling him off to the side to continue talking to him.

"Babe." You turn to Yunho after Mingi and Seonghwa create good distance, hand coming up to cup Yunho's cheek. But, he turns, slightly shaking his head at you. You pull your hand back and feel your heart drop, the look in Yunho's eyes being one that you've never experienced before.

Sadness, hurt, anger.

Mostly sadness, hurt.

"What flowers was he talking about, Y/N?" His chest is still rising at a somewhat uneven pace, doing his best to calm down after the adrenaline rush.

"H-he left them at my doorstep after we came back from the snow. I'm really sorry, Yunho, I didn't tell you because I tossed it out and—"

"But still, it's the fact that you didn't tell me after all this time." Yunho's brows are tightly knitted together, and the look causes your heart to sink even deeper. "Why did you have to let me find out this way? Were you going to tell me about this too if I hadn't come right away?"

"I just didn't get around to telling you because I didn't think it would matter— Seonghwa doesn't matter."

"If he didn't, then wouldn't you be able to tell me without questioning it so much?"

"Yunho, no. I'm sorry, no." You repeat, tears pricking your eye lids. "I didn't mean for it to seem like that. I really didn't mean to hide this from you."

"Did you think about keeping them?"

"I—I, no. I thought—" Yunho hears you stuttering and his throat suddenly feels dry. Why can't you just tell him? Even if Seonghwa didn't matter to you, why couldn't you trust him enough to tell him?

Why couldn't you feel comfortable enough to tell him?

"Be honest with me, Y/N. That's all I've ever asked. Did you or did you not think about it keeping it?" Silence. And god, it is the most gut-wrenching silence Yunho has ever endured.

Yup. Got it.

The answer is clear.

You did think about Seonghwa. You thought about accepting the flowers as his apology, you thought about the possibility— even if it was for a brief, splitting second. Seonghwa did matter for one fucking second, and that's what bothers him.

"Yunho, please. I just thought—" You can barely get through your sentences.

"Did you, or did you not?"

"I thought about keeping it, but it was so stupid. I was just blinded for a second, and I realized it didn't matter to me. He doesn't matter to me. At all. I promise. Everything just caught me off guard." You try to grab for his hand but he steps back. "Yunho, it was all stupid. I tossed it out so quickly. I wasn't going to do anything, I wasn't going to text, nothing."

"But, why does it feel like after everything he's put you through, you still believe he'd genuinely change? Why does it feel like a part of you is still actually holding onto that?" Well, when Yunho says it to your face like that, you feel dumb. Not once did you ever think about running back to Seonghwa and leaving this behind. But, you were blinded in that quick second from your history with Hwa, being close and sharing moments for months. Asking Seonghwa for little gestures like this, for more attention; even though it was a ride, you still had history.

And yes, maybe at one point you wanted to be the girl that changed him.

But today, you can't even imagine going back to that point. Not after being with Yunho, not after the happiness he's brought you.

Not after you realize how much you genuinely and truly love Yunho.

You don't wanna lose him.

This is all so stupid, and a huge misunderstanding. But, you're the only person to blame here— if you hadn't given Seonghwa the time of day, if you had just told Yunho right away without second-guessing it, if you hadn't hesitated; you wouldn't be here right now.

"I'm not!" Your tone raises and it sounds like a whine at this point. "I'm not, Yunho. Please."

"Look, tonight was a lot." He sighs, running his hand through his hair before wincing and looking down at his knuckles. "I was excited to see you after a long day, Y/N. I was really looking forward to being with you. I wasn't expecting all of this and honestly, I don't know what's worse? Stumbling upon all of this the way I did, or not knowing at all."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was stupid and fucked up of me, and I'm sorry." You repeat, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Maybe you just need to think about what you really want." Yunho shrugs. "I thought you were over the whole thing with Seonghwa, but clearly not if you're still considering on giving him the time of day."

"No, no, Yunho. Please don't. It's not that." You try to lace your hand with his, but he gently brushes it off with a shaky sigh. He doesn't wanna leave you. He never wants to be without you. But, tonight was a lot for him to handle, and it is overwhelming. He hasn't really felt this protective over someone. Of course, it's only natural since you're his girlfriend. He'll always protect you. It's just that Seonghwa brings something out of him that he doesn't necessarily like, and he wants it to be gone for good. It feels unhealthy and icky;

The anger, the frustration, the anxiety.

He hates it. And he doesn't want this to be a thing in your relationship. Plus, he still feels himself fuming with anger and he just can't possibly talk to you while he feels that way.

So yes, he's overwhelmed and he needs to get over this.

"No, seriously. You really should think about it. I know where I stand but I'm not so sure you do." He lets out another disappointed sigh. "I'll take you home, but we should probably just be in our own places tonight."

"Okay." You say close to a whisper, sniffling as you wipe away at your face. You don't even try to fight it anymore simply because you know Yunho needs his space right now. He begins to walk off with you slowly trailing behind, head hung low after everything that happened tonight. Everything happened so fast you're also having to process it all on this walk over to the lot. Suddenly, you're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear footsteps picking up behind you, followed by a familiar, deep voice.

"Yo, wait up!" Mingi says. "You good? I'm sorry about him, he's actually losing it."

"You're sorry? Mingi, when the fuck is your friend gonna grow up so that you're not apologizing on his behalf?" Mingi lets out a breath as his eyes dart from you, back to Yunho's. "Seriously. I don't mean to throw that your way, but it's not even just about tonight. Your friend knows no boundaries and that's crazy to me."

"I know, he's got things to sort through but that's his own problem now. I already told him multiple times. Me and San did." Mingi shakes his head.

"Doesn't take much to grow the fuck up and take ownership of your own fuck-ups once in awhile."

"Let him keep learning the hard way. He will, eventually. He deserved that tonight."

"He can try all he wants, nothing's gonna change between me and her. Hope he understands I'm not going anywhere after tonight."

"Of course." Is all Mingi could respond with because of course Yunho wouldn't go anywhere— why the fuck would he let Seonghwa get in the way? He shouldn't. And Seonghwa needs to know that. "Anyway, just wanted to see if you two were okay. For real." Yunho sighs.

"Mmyeah. Thanks." He responds as Mingi daps it up. "We're just gonna head home."

"Drive safely. Text me if you need me." Mingi gives you a small smile before running off to tend to his friends, San now also getting dragged into all his mess.

The walk over is quiet, but Yunho still opens the passenger door for you when you finally get to his car. You hate the silence that falls between you two, but you understand Yunho is upset and needs his own time away from everything, from you, even. You can't help but cry even more into your hands when he pulls into the apartment lot, Yunho letting out a breath as he puts the car in park. He looks over at you and his heart breaks because he truly hates to see you cry, and he never wants to be the reason behind you being sad or hurt.

"Hey. Don't." He says softly, hands coming up to pry your own hands away from your face. He gently wipes the tears away, making sure no drop is missed.

"I'm sorry, Yuyu." You repeat.

"I know, it's okay." He says, even though right now, it's not.

"Is it?"

"Let's get you home, okay?" He just looks at you with a soft expression before unbuckling his seatbelt. He comes over to open your door, locking his car when you step out and slowly make your way to your apartment. When you get to the steps, you turn towards him with a small pout. Yunho pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, wiping any remaining stragglers from staining your cheeks. He's not happy, but he's trying to send you off on a calm note— hoping this could at least ease you for the night. "Get some rest."

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He doesn't say anything before he pulls away and takes a few steps backwards. "Yunho." You call for him in that tone of yours that always makes him so weak.

"Y/N, please. I just need to shake this off. That's all. Goodnight." All you can do is simply walk away before running up the steps and into your apartment. Chaery is the only one home, cleaning her dishes after cooking a good meal for all of you to share.

"My love is home! I cooked!" She says happily, but her smile dies when she sees you set your bags down and cry into your hands. She drops everything and rushes over, throwing her arms around you while guiding you to the couch. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" She brushes the hair away from your face while you continue to cry. You don't respond for a bit, signaling for Chaery to just hold you and let you be.

You cry, and you cry.

Because you already miss Yunho, and you feel so dumb for overthinking the entire thing, for not being honest with him. It was a stupid mistake, but you hope Yunho knows you truly weren't out to hurt him.

You hope he can forgive you and move past this— with you, together.

Because today and so on, he's all you want. You love Yunho, and there's no one else that completes you the way that he does.

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