#high yearning makeout fic

[flowercrowngods]

it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted. 

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed. 

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie. 

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty. 

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do. 

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that. 

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t. 

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty. 

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit. 

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.” 

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse. 

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington. 

Easy. 

Right? 

Totally. 

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right? 

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face. 

A face that shouldn’t look so sad. 

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve. 

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself. 

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t— 

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch. 

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened. 

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.” 

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone. 

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real. 

God, he’s so hopeless. 

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now. 

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice. 

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it. 

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again. 

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there. 

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity. 

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days. 

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy. 

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really. 

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin. 

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin. 

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not. 

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there. 

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now… 

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him. 

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it. 

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that. 

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s;  threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever. 

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous. 

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things. 

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees. 

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together. 

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it. 

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit. 

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling  around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does. 

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere. 

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world. 

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin. 

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught. 

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him. 

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires. 

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything. 

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message. 

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried. 

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately. 

It’s driving Eddie insane. 

It’s too much. 

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him. 

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked. 

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more. 

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work. 

Knowing Steve, nothing works. 

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden. 

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane. 

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer. 

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest. 

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky. 

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away. 

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility. 

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That. 

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now. 

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something. 

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance. 

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum. 

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

“‘Kay.” 

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all. 

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world. 

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful. 

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but— 

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie. 

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real. 

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair. 

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean. 

“Good.” 

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it. 

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard. 

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel. 

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his... 

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores. 

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe. 

But that’s not what Steve does. 

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up. 

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever. 

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look. 

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him. 

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable. 

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught. 

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop. 

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing. 

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run. 

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time. 

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing. 

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it. 

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his. 

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold. 

To keep. 

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want. 

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump. 

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling. 

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again. 

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it. 

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone. 

And isn’t that an enticing thought. 

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve. 

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him. 

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?” 

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now. 

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips. 

“Been wanting to do that forever.” 

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.” 

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?” 

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure. 

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off. 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…” 

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time. 

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm. 

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“ 

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?” 

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow. 

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too. 

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high. 

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights. 

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.” 

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.” 

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?” 

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.” 

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips. 

“Is it working?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it. 

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become. 

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself. 

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.” 

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“ 

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins. 

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release. 

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is  and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions. 

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body. 

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly. 

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought. 

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants. 

“I like you so much.” 

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him. 

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more. 

“I like you so much right back.” 

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them. 

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.” 

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.” 

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance. 

“Unfortunately.” 

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the spicy six get high together #spicy six #yearning hours #yearning hours but make it smut #steddie smut #i like this one so much #high yearning makeout fic #this takes so many turns and i blame the flu for it actually #tone consistency?? don't know her #dio words

[beneathstarryskies]

will you still love me tomorrow?

Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,290

Summary: Cloud and Y/N have been friends for a while, but there is a yearning that makes their friendship cross the line at times. Cloud has an idea to relieve their sexual tension without going too far that doesn't exactly go as planned.

Warnings: smut, excessive use of "just the tip" trope, thigh riding, unprotected sex, may be a bit ooc

A/N: MY FIRST CLOUD FIC!!! WOO!

Sometimes being around Cloud is unbearable. The two of you had agreed long ago not to complicate things by acting on your feelings. With so many mutual friends and living in uncertain times, it just seemed best to preserve the friendship, even though at times the two of you couldn’t help showing weakness. Lingering touches happen more often than they should for two people who are “just friends”. In shared spaces, Cloud makes it a habit to place things a little too high for you to reach so he has an excuse to press his palm against your back as he leans up to grab whatever item required your attention. He screws lids on too tight so you’d ask him for help with that cute little pleading look on your face. 

At times it wasn’t so innocent. Heated makeout sessions tucked away in a dark alleyway usually end with the two of you blushing, clearing your throats, and then hastily going your separate ways. Sometimes it was easy to pretend it had never happened, but other times you find yourselves avoiding each other for a few days afterward. Your friendship always seems to recover in no small part due to the burning desire that pulls you back together at every turn. 

The last time it happened, though something was different. You almost went too far, past the point of just kissing. Cloud was worked up after an argument with Barrett over something trivial. Most of their arguments are trivial, but they know how to get under one another’s skin like no other. You’d followed Cloud outside to help him calm down. Your hand rested on his shoulder and you let him pout in silence. You’d thought that was the end of it until he suddenly had you against the wall, soft lips pressed furiously against yours. It was different this time. There was a frenzied need fuelling each kiss. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his strong chest against yours. His thigh pressed between yours, and you found yourself grinding against it for relief. Cloud didn’t let you pull away from the kiss to utter an apology. He kept his tongue shoved in your mouth, exploring your warm velvet tongue. 

You whimper when his hands grip your waist and he begins guiding you to keep up your grinding. The warmth in your core spread through your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers that were tangled in his blond hair. When he finally pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, you were panting. 

“Cloud, if we don’t stop…I’m gonna-” 

He’d cut you off with another sloppy kiss that he kept up until you were trembling in his arms as your orgasm shook through you. As shame-filled you up, you’d found the strength to push him away. Somehow it felt like you’d taken things too far this time. Tifa would be upset if she knew what you’d done. She’d feel betrayed as you knew deep down she was waiting for the day Cloud would want to be with her, and to be honest you expected the day to come as well. 

After that, you ignored Cloud for longer than you ever had. Your cheeks would burn every time he’d look at you, and when he entered a room you were very quickly searching for a reason to leave as soon as you could. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. It was unbearable to see you avoiding his attention, and not knowing if you’d ever slip back into your friendship or not. 

He’s in his room tossing and turning on the creaky bed. He’s trying to stop himself from thinking about you. His mind keeps wandering to you, wondering if you’re across the hall in your room thinking of him. He thinks he might be going crazy again then suddenly he hears a soft rasp on his door. He tries to ignore it, but then your little voice accompanies you. 

“Cloud, are you asleep?” 

He sighs softly when he hears the door open. Yous stand in the doorway in your tattered robe. Your hands are balled up nervously at your sides, and your shoulders are a little slumped. Like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Can I come in?” you ask weakly. 

“Sure,” Cloud sits up on the bed and watches you cross the room. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

Cloud’s brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” 

You sit down on the bed beside him, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

His breath hitches at your admission, and he reaches out to drag his knuckles over your arm. You want to lean into the touch but you pull away instead. He huffs but lets his hand fall limply to the side. 

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “About what happened. I just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

When you look at him, you feel yourself falling into the well of his Mako eyes. You lean forward despite the feeling in your gut that you shouldn’t. Cloud stops just when your nose brushes against his. 

“Don’t pull away if I kiss you,” he says. 

“I won’t.” 

As soon he kisses you, it feels like fireworks erupt in your stomach. Your hands curl through his soft hair, pulling him closer so your tongue can slip between his soft lips. He moans softly, only spurring you on to shove your tongue a little deeper. It pushes past his teeth to rub against his tongue. 

Everything between the first kiss and him having you pushed onto your back is a blur. His mouth is on your neck, biting and sucking the sensitive spots he’s come to know so well in your stolen moments. His hips grind against you, making warmth pool in your panties. Your thighs tighten around his waist. 

“I want you,” his whisper is hot on your ear. 

“We shouldn’t,” you mutter. You know deep down you only mean it halfway. 

“Just let me put it in a little,” he whispers. “We’ve gotta do something. I can’t focus like this.” 

Cloud’s words make your cheeks burn. In your time together, he’s been known to only utter a few words at a time. He’s not known for being verbose, and that’s what makes your hands press against his chest to push him away so you can look into his face. You have to make sure this is really your Cloud. The quiet, shy man you’ve come to know. The same eyes stare into you, but they’re darkened with lust now. There’s desperation you’re not used to seeing. 

“Just the tip,” he says quietly. “I promise, I won’t go further. I just…I need to feel you.” 

“Cloud,” your eyes widen as you try to get your thoughts in order. “What’s gotten into you?” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You.” 

“Just the tip?” you ask. 

“I promise.” 

“Okay.” 

You bite your lip as he opens your robe. You’re just wearing a big t-shirt underneath with some panties. You sit up so he can remove the robe properly and toss it aside. Your cheeks burn as he tugs the t-shirt up over your tits. He kneads them softly, his eyes focusing on your soft nipples. He soothes his thumb over them until they’re hard, then he leans in to lick and suck on them. You whimper and whine under his touch. Your thighs rub together to give yourself some relief. 

“You like that?” He teases softly. 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles before leaning in to take your nipple in his mouth again. His tongue rolls over the sensitive nub before he sucks harshly on it then switches to the other. You keep rubbing your thighs together, feeling the wetness seeping out of your panties to wet your inner thighs. He pulls away from your chest, panting softly as he sits upon his knees. 

His long fingers loop around the waistband of your panties to pull them off. He quickly relieves himself of his clothes before pressing his body against yours. He kisses you roughly. His tongue sloppily pushes into your mouth, tasting you eagerly. 

When he sits upon his thighs again, he grasps his cock and gives it a few lazy pumps. His eyes are focused on your dripping pussy, already imagining what it would be like to be buried in your hole and-

“Just the tip,” you remind him desperately. 

It turns out that for Cloud “just the tip” had many meanings. With just the tip of his cock he splits your folds with ease and drags the tip over your swollen clit. He does this over and over, spreading his precum over the little nub as he teases you. Whines fall from your lips, and you realize you could cum just from this. He brings the tip to tease your hole, waiting for your to hold your breath in anticipation of him pushing it in before he drags it back up to tease your clit some more. 

“Cloud, just put it in,” you whine. “Please.” 

“Just the tip,” he reminds you mockingly. 

The ridge of his head hooks on your clit as he drags his cock back down to your hole. You whimper when he slides the tip in slowly. Already he feels dizzy from how wet and tight you feel. Even the tip of his cock sliding into your entrance manages to stretch you out. Your walls clench, only managing to catch him at your entrance. You whine as he begins thrusting shallowly, only using the tip as promised. It’s just enough to spur on your intense longing, but not enough to get you over the edge. You wish nothing more than for the fullness at your entrance to spread. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

“You’re so wet,” he mutters. 

Just thrusting the tip into you is making you feel so dizzy. Cloud shudders as he keeps thrusting slowly. You need more. Maybe more than you’ve ever needed anything, you need him to fill you up. Your fingernails dig into his forearms as you moan softly. Cloud pulls out when he realizes he’s getting too lost in the pleasure. 

“You feel so good.” 

“I don’t think this is helping,” you blush. 

You look down at his cock as it rests heavily on your mound. The head is swollen and leaking. You reach down to grasp him and begin stroking him slowly. You’re playing with fire now, but you can’t help wanting to take things further. 

“Do you think you could handle putting more inside?” 

“How about I put it all in?” he grunts. 

You swallow hard before guiding his cock to your hole again, “Just the tip.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he follows your instruction. He pushes the tip of his cock into the ring of your entrance, groaning when you clench around him. His thumb rubs against your swollen clit as he shallowly thrusts his tip into you over and over. 

“More,” you whimper. “I need more.” 

Cloud doesn’t hesitate to slide deeper into you, your velvet walls suck him in. He’s halfway sheathed when your hands press against his stomach. He places one hand on top of yours. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks softly. 

“No, it feels so good,” you whine. “I just…I don’t know if I can stop.” 

“Me neither,” Cloud kisses you softly. “I wanna put the rest in.” 

You lay back against the pillows and whine. You want nothing more than to have him fill you up, but you know you won’t be able to stop him. Once he’s buried to the hilt, there’s no returning from this. But maybe there’s no return anyway. 

“Do it,” you pull him in for a frantic kiss. “Please.” 

Cloud pushes the rest of his cock into you, his thick girth stretches you out and his tip hits the sweetest spot hidden deep inside. Your fingers tangle in his hair. Your legs wrap around him tightly. 

He pulls almost all the way out until the head is nestled at your entrance, then he slams back into you. You cry out, but soon find his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. He repeats the same motion with his hips until he finally falls into a rhythmic pace. 

Soft, desperate moans fall from his lips. Your nails dig into his back as a coil tightens in your stomach, filling you with warm tingles of pleasure. You keep whimpering against his hand, your hips rocking along with his. It’s not long until the coil snaps. You leave a long, red scratch down his back. He moves his hand off your mouth so he can hear all of your sweet little moans. Your walls are clenching around him so tightly, that he knows he won’t last much longer. He’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the yearning he’s carried for so long finally getting realized. 

“I’m close,” he whines. “I-I’m gonna pull out.” 

Before you have time to say anything, he’s grasping the base of his cock. He pulls out of your pussy, and he pumps himself to completion. Thick ropes of warm cum cover your stomach by the time he’s done. He falls back on his knees, panting softly. He searches your face for any signs of regret, but you just reach out to take his hand. You squeeze softly. He leans down to pick up his shirt and uses it to wipe the cum off your stomach. Then, he settles in beside you. You snuggle against his chest, placing a kiss on his soft skin. 

“So, now what?” you ask, wondering if you’ll still be friends in the morning. 

“How about we worry about that over breakfast tomorrow?” 

You smile, “Sounds like a date.”

#cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #final fantasy vii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #cloud ff7

[eomma-jpeg]

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

How many works do you have on AO3?

Fifteen ! which is wild

What is your AO3 word count?

Oh gosh,,,,,, 229,582 words... holy frick dude what is wrong with me

What fandoms do you write for?

Trigun mostly but on AO3 i do have a single bnha fic and a fullmetal fic. I have some other fullmetal fics saved but i havent been as inspired to write for them lol

What are your top five fics by kudos?

in the meadow - 256

an account of past kisses - 185

vinyl and an alleyway niche - 97

it’s not what it looks like - 91

learning to take breaks - 86

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I absolutely try to respond to every comment. Some get past me or some i feel like my answer would just be really repetitive so i hold off,,,, but i really love seeing comments and responding so that people know that i saw their comment !!!

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay so all my fics are super sweet bc i have a hard time ending things on a dour note lol

I like fix it fics !!!

But i do have a wip in the works that will be hurt/no comfort and that will quickly become my fic with the angstiest ending 

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably in the meadow. Everyone is crying and in love and its the cheesiest ending ever but i love and adore it because who doesn’t love a little cheese !!!!!!

Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet lol. Im not popular enough for the haters to come attacking. I just have my small and valuable army of supporters WHO I ADORE

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No i don’t particularly enjoy smut in general. I will on occasion write a steamy makeout but i don’t do smut

Do you write crossovers?

I would enjoy writing crossovers because im a big au fan. I got @veilder to rant to me last night about a trigun x genshin idea and it made me excited bc i like when veil info dumps (i love when anyone info dumps,,, IF YOU HAVE MILLYNAI THOUGHTS PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME) 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of, and if i did it would have been an old one

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but that would be super fun

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not officially published, but i am co writing with someone right now >:3

I also do a lot of brainstorming and collaborating with people to make my stories and influence others, but those arent particularly co writing

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Vashmeryl and millynai have risen SO HIGH ON MY LIST

Honestly Millynai is my favorite, but Royai will forever remain and all time favorite ship (and tenrose WHOOPS)

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hrmmm i have a razmeryl wip i really want to finish but i don’t know when ill have the time to dedicate my brain to their Insane Dynamic

What are your writing strengths?

I think i write with a good flow. Its not so choppy (at least not anymore lol) and it keeps anyone whos reading engaged enough to keep going.

And i appeal to emotion and yall love that dont you

What are your writing weaknesses?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm i have many

Im repetitive? I use the same words and phrases over and over,,,, and im predictable in how characters act bc i often project myself into them,,, meaning i use myself as a reference and i try not to but it helps make it real in my mind

I often outline too much and scare myself out of actually writing lol

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I would certainly try,,, but the only language im really semi-qualified to translate into is American Sign Language (which i would love to do, we are severely lacking in deaf characters)

First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who baby !!! my fic is still out there floating in the void that is wattpad

Favourite fic you've ever written?

in the meadow,,,, hands down. Please if you havent read it i would love if you would.... Its quite fun and has redemption and character exploration and kiss scenes and yearning and pining and denial and its a slowburn sooooooooo you can waste a lot of time with it hehe

ty @frappeflamingo for tagging me !!! i needed something fun to do

im gonna tag @veilder and @noaafishfieldguide bc im mean <3

#writer game #trigun #fic

[katrinawritesthings]

What are some of your favourite fics you've written?

you sent this after my bedtime lol happy Monday

But also uwu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A very kind question thank you

For the big ones. Biker au obviously. I really like Fucktown Academy!!!! Beach babes my beloved..... And I know I say I didn't write 54k words of smut to not shill for it a lot but I genuinely do really like love is so nice lol it's very soft and cute

And then for oneshots.

sk8 d8 is really fun and nostalgic for me : )

Bridging parallels makes me feel the emotion of yearning

hoohoohoo and absolutely apeshit buckwild feral and hey. Hey because I deserve being little a horny as a treat

make a wish is just full of absolutely incomprehensible queer bullshit and I like that and also the idea of a wish farm is soooooo.... I like it : )

ABC for personal reasons lol I'm still out here counting everything every day

none pizza with left boob because it's just really cute and funny and soft. Why would you not have a favorite boob

the fossils have a better chance of coming to life than their relationship does bc listen. Sometimes they can't fucking stand each other and that's hot and also I like fossils

idk lmao do we not all deserve aroace jongtae being snuggle buddies

Dangarang do we not all deserve!!!! Taemin in thigh highs and Junghee making him blush about it!!!!!!

uwu uwu

James I just think this one is really funny lol

Fry Guy same for this one and also he's right about all of his fry opinions

Volunteer Work gq wristwatch Jonghyun save me..... Save me GQ wristwatch Jonghyun..... Also taemplants: )

Dabbing peak onho

drunk and smol I just think Jonghyun is really cute and bubbly and I like him a lot : )))))

ive fooled u all this whole time my tru otp is jonghoodie it's just like it's right there in the title what else do you want from me

very important questions honestly this one I think is peak me core. onjongtae poly shenanigans. embarrassing teen bullshit. soft giddy makeouts. funny.

that’s retail baby this one is also peak me core if I think about it but just in a different way. One day I will write a 2min that isn't a joke

yeah I completely forgot about this one honestly until I was going through my blog looking for fics and I literally said out loud "oh yeah this one kicks ass!!!!!!!!"

Also literally everything in my fantasy tag please I am begging you

I originally had almost every single one of these open in separate tabs while I was looking through my fics for this post please I love writing fantasy stories and thinking about them and living in the little magical worlds and they hardly ever get notes or attention please they are so fun!!!!!! There are so many of them with so many pairings and genres!!!!! There's zombies and magic and fairies and devils and angst and feelings and fluff and action and comedy!!!!!! please just read them and reblog one for me!!!!!! aaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anygay yeah those are some of my favorites : )

#jongtae #jongyu #There are others but those are the main two on this list because like. its me lol #asks #anonymous #Also realizing I could have said more about what they're about and their ratings and everything but like #Not important you're reading them based off The Vibes of the recommendation alone

[wwilloww]

point of no return | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Roommates AU.

WC: 10.2k

Summary: Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.

Warnings & Tags: Cursing. Reader is really freakin cold. Jimin sleeps in the nude. Spooning. Grinding. Obscene daydreaming about your best friend.  Sex dreams. Mentions of alcohol. Dancing. Jimin is a little jealous. Masterbation. Unexpected visual. Super soft makeout. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Sex. Slight power play. Creampie.  

AN: Oof! Finally! A Jimin fic! Thank you to @thatlongspringnight for guiding me through the last 6k of this fic, all written in one day and for being the most brilliant, queen of queens level beta reader. A big thanks to @triviasapphic too, for letting me use their likeness! 

This is very loosely based on this ask beautifully submitted by the loveliest @jinpanman for the milestone request party! 

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

point of no return 

“Fuckin’ shithead mutherfuckin cunt basket,” you hiss.

Nothing would turn it on.

You tried pressing the knob. You tried twisting it until your hand rubbed raw. You tried shaking it. You tried begging in your sweetest, most saccharine tone. You even tried giving it compliments.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you look with three coats of white paint? No?”

Fifteen minutes ago the antique radiator — so old it would probably be better in a museum of old technologies than as a functioning heat mechanism — stuttered to a halt and refused to turn back on.

When you had picked the house out with your best friend, Jimin, you’d loved it for it’s Victorian era charm. But now with the December cold creeping in through the thin window and your refusal to own more than one blanket you were shivering madly, teeth clattering cold. And wildly in doubt of your house hunting skills.

With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders, you drag your comforter off of the mattress, wrap it tightly over your shivering shoulders, and pad barefoot down the hall. Instead of knocking, you just twist the door handle, letting the door swing open before you with a long, drawn-out squeak. You wince at the sound.

A dark figure sits up from the bed, squinting at you in the darkness.

“Is that—”

“It’s me,” you whisper. If it were anyone else, that response would be useless. But after years of friendship Jimin knows every tune and nook in your voice — the way it sounds when you’re upset, or scared, or — in this case — really fucking cold. “The heater broke.”

“What?” His voice is groggy and sleep-heavy.

“The heater broke. Can I stay here tonight?”

He scrunches his nose and wipes a hand across his face.

“Yeah, sure, uh—” He shifts a bit in bed and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing anything at all. You gulp. It’s the coldest month of the year and the fucker is naked in bed, nothing more than a top sheet thrown over his body, the rest of the duvet crumpled at the foot of the bed. Even though you know he’s one to sleep in the nude (“It invigorates your skin and keeps your body temperature regulated,” he had explained to you once) seeing it, in front of you, just the thinnest piece of fabric between you and your best friend’s junk is a whole other story.

As he moves, the sheet slips down, revealing his toned stomach, only visible by the moonlight flooding through the bay windows of his bedroom.

“Give me a minute to put something on?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, turning around quickly to give him some semblance of privacy, your blanket whooshing out behind you.

You can hear him pad over to his dresser, just three feet behind you. You swallow hard as you imagine him, totally naked, so close to you. Literally within arms reach. If you could only—

“Turn around, I’m done.”

You peek over your shoulder before turning fully, only to see Jimin, now clothed in some pretty short black boxers, climbing back into bed. Blanket trailing, you shuffle after him, climbing into the warm bed from the other side.

You pull your comforter as tightly around you as you can, but you’re still cold. As you turn to face away from your friend, you can’t help but shiver, your shoulders shaking with the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

“Can you stop shaking?” Jimin’s sleep-adled voice grunts from behind you.

“I’m too cold,” you whine.

“Come ‘ere—”

And before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging your body backwards until it meets his. He pulls the blanket up and slides in behind you, wrapping himself around your shivering form.

“Better?” he asks while you’re still in shock from the amount of contact he’s just put the two of you in.

“Mhmm,” you squeak out, even as your body continues to shake.

“You’re a liar,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know why you bothered to ask then,” you snap back, wrapping your arms tight around yourself.

You’re not sure if he sees this or if he’s acting on his own accord. You let out a small gasp as he tugs you even closer, his arm slipping under the blanket to press against the skin of your hip. He maneuvers you backwards, your body as limp as a puppet, while you lay there in shock (and a small bit of exhilaration). He presses the back of your body flush against his front and snakes his top arm up the front of your torso until it rests in the center of your chest, gripping your opposite shoulder.

Trapped.

You’re trapped in his arms, nowhere to move, nowhere to go. Only the sound of your combined breaths, his a little more slow and sleepy than your nervous pant. Trapped only with the idea of him so close, and the strange thing fluttering in your chest that only continues to grow bigger and bigger despite all the work you’ve done to push it away. All you can think about is the way he’s pressed up against you, only your thin flannel pajama pants and his even thinner black boxers keeping the most sensitive parts of your bodies apart.

When he shifts, nustling his nose into the crook of your shoulder, you swear you can feel something long and hard press up against your ass.

And suddenly the warmth that is flooding through you has absolutely nothing to do with the shared body heat. Instead it’s coming from someplace deep down — somewhere yearning and desperate — and also from that strange fluttering thing in your chest.

All there is is white. You know somewhere far above you is an endless sea of stars, blinking down on you. But all you know is the grass beneath you and the swimming white sheets that float above and around you.

Someone’s laughing and you turn your face to see him — Jimin — beaming and reaching out towards you.

Somewhere in your mind you know it’s night time and that everything should be dark — and yet, everything around him is lit up and glows with a sourceless light.

Joy rushes through you and as you reach out towards him, he disappears and a new kind of light — warmth — appears behind you.

“I want—” you start to say, but his hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you.

“If you speak, you’ll break the dream,” he says. “Just enjoy it. Let me be here with you.”

Eyes don’t close in dreams, but you know you drift somewhere soft, the feeling of his body so close to yours and the precious rhythm of his breath tracing your neck.

All there is warmth.

Too much of it, actually.

As your eyes blink open to the dark room, the remnants of some dream, lots of white, Jimin’s smile fall away from your consciousness. You kick your leg out into the freezing air and sigh as the coolness washes the heat from your body. Relief.

The warmth that hasn’t been erased, however, is sitting heavy in your lower belly, pooling and swirling and wanting.

You do your best to ignore it, knowing it’s probably some mix of the dream and the thing that you’ve kept hidden on the edge of your consciousness for too long.

You close your eyes again, wishing for sleep to come back and pull you away from these thoughts. Just as you feel the soft edges of another dream lapping at the edges of your mind, Jimin groans behind you and comes to press up against you again, his hand snaking down over your belly.

Eyes shoot open. There. Behind you. Right between the swell of your ass. You can feel his cock pressing into you, at full hardness. You gasp at the sensation, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth so as not to wake him. Slowly, you try to scootch away from his grip, but he holds you there, his arm only tightening when you try to move away.

It’s not that you don’t want it — you do — your body is singing with electricity at the thought of his hard cock against you, between you, inside you. God, if only. However, it’s the consequences, the unspoken question, the unanswered desires (the answer to which you may just not want to know) that push you away from him.

This is your best friend. The person you’ve always been able to rely on and trust. The man you know you can turn to at any moment and know there will never be a question dangling between the two of you.

Except for now.

As he slowly circles his hips against yours, the most delightful, breathy pants falling from his lips — so soft you can barely hear them — the question looms larger than ever.

Are you in love with your best friend?

However, here, his arm wrapped so tightly around your belly, it’s easy to sink into the desire. To equate the arrival of the question with the arousal rising in your body. To tell yourself this is just pleasure, this is natural.

Jimin’s palm is splayed out across your lower belly, pressing hard against you.

He’s rutting shallowly against you, moving for the sake of his own pleasure. A high note of satisfaction slips from his lips, before a name tumbles shortly after it into your ear.

Not any name.

Your name.

You choke on your own words as you understand it. Confusion rushes over you but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline as his hand clenches and unclenches around your shirt and he shifts and stretches.

Jimin is waking up. Is he going to say something? Is he going to tell you he didn’t mean it at all? Will he run from you?

His body freezes as he realizes the position he’s in. Wrapped so intimately around you, his hard cock pressed against you.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and lay as still as possible as you feel him pull away from you. And then the bed dips just enough and you realize he’s leaning over you, checking to see if you’re asleep or not.

You smooth out your features, hoping he doesn’t catch that you’ve been awake this whole time.

The December morning light is streaming in bold and warm through the window.

Your hand goes searching for Jimin, but all you find is an empty, chilled, pillow. There’s a good chance he’s already headed out for the day to see friends or to run errands and so you assume it’s safe as you tiptoe downstairs to get some water and some much needed coffee. Not that you slept much last night.

As you enter the kitchen, the earthy smell of fresh coffee hits you and you take a deep breath, inhaling the nutty aroma. There’s a full pot of coffee already waiting for you on the counter. You smile. Jimin has always been a considerate housemate, but to leave you coffee in the morning? I’m so lucky to have a friend like him, you sigh as you turn to the cabinet to grab a mug.

“Good morning!” an almost nervous, too-cheery voice sings out from behind you.

“AGh!” you cry, nearly dropping the mug you’re holding. Jimin’s quicker than you are though, and reaches out, just as it drops below your belly button. He’s laughing, his delightful giggle filling the light-painted kitchen but all you can think about is how close he’s standing to you, the mug brushing up against your stomach.

“Got it,” he grins.

“You know you can’t jump out at me like that!” you scold, trying to take the mug back from him. But he turns and goes to fill it up for you.

“I literally said your name twice before you noticed. Someone was too lost in dreamland.”

“Pshh, no, I — you need to be a little louder.”

“Can we talk about last night?” Jimin asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. “I, uh, I think there was an accident, I had a dream you were—”

You panic.

“Last night? Oh gosh yeah! I slept like a rock! Thank you for keeping me warm. I would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you.”

You smile as sweetly as you can at him.

He blinks back.

“I mean — uh, yeah, sure, I mean, you’re welcome but that’s not what I mean —”

“Nothing to talk about!” you chirp, already scurrying towards the stairs that lead back up to your bedroom.

“Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!” he cries as you pad upstairs, making a beeline for your bedroom as the coffee you’re holding sloshes around in the mug.

“Oof, well I’m already tired again, gonna take a nap!”

You sprint up the stairs and as you do you hear him call behind you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

It hits harder than you want it to.

“Come on, princess. You’re taking forever!”

You’re back down on your bed, swaddled in all the blankets in the house you could find, scrolling through your phone.

“I don’t want to go!”

“Well I do!” The door finally swings open and Jimin stands there, all dolled up for the night out. He’s wearing tight leather pants that hug his toned thighs just right and a half opened black shirt that he’s still buttoning as you look on. Beneath his hands, his chest shows, the muscular planes simple and sheer perfection. A single silver earring dangles from his left ear, the other one filled with a variety of studs.

As you peek out of your blanket fort, you gulp as you take in his flawless appearance. He looks like straight sex, the darkness of his outfit highlighting every muscle and curve.

"You look nice," you manage to squeak, and Jimin blushes, his praise kink showing. "Those pants are..." Hot as fuck? More beautiful than the Mona Lisa? Just asking me to rip them off? Floundering for language, you just let your sentence trail off as he looks on, a pink tinge still dancing across his features.

"You wanna wear them?"

"Pfft, no," you lie.

“Are you planning on getting out of bed?”

“No.”

"Well then, if you're not going to get out of bed and dress yourself I'll do the honors." Jimin stomps over to the tiny door leading to your closet and swings it open. He ruffles through your set of clothes, as disparate from a full flannel collection (one that you are quite proud of) to an evening gown that never got worn. Words you can't quite hear or understand tumble from his mouth in a stream of frustrated mumbles as he seems to be looking for something very specific. "Aha!" he finally cries out. "Here it is."

What he pulls out is not what you expected.

It's a simple piece. A light tan slip dress, one with a bit of a scoop to the bust. One that hugs all of your curves just right and sits low enough the weight keeps the dress exactly where you want it to be and high enough that your upper thighs are deliciously on display - something that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you. You bought it on a whim, hoping it would help you embody your inner club girl (or "inner slut" as your friend Jungkook would correct you - which, if you were being entirely honest, was really what you meant when you spoke about going to the club.)

"That one? Really?"

"What, you wanna wear this?" He turns back to the closet before pulling out a second dress, this one long and emerald green and sparkly with a full slit up the side.

"No." You pout.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Ugh!" you cry, burrowing deeper into your blanket fort. "Itsmyslutdress," you mumble.

"What?"

"Itsmyslutdress!" you mumble, but louder this time.

"Did you just call it a slut dress?"

You pop your head out of the warmth cocoon with a sigh.

"Yes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It is the dress I wear when I want to embody my slutty alter-ego. The dress I wear when I wanna get laid."

Jimin blinks a few times before turning back to you with a grin.

"Well--do you not want to get laid tonight?" he asks slowly.

You gape at him.

Even as best friends, even talking about your hookups, you never really talked about sex iteself. Everytime you brought it up, whether it was at the bar and you were ogling some tall, dark, handsome stranger as if some psychic had promised you he was your entire future, he always seemed to shut down. And yet, around your other friends, he was an open book. "Basically a sex expert," Jungkook had told you once. "A sexpert." He'd added, grinning.

But with you, sex was off the table. You were more open and vulnerable with him than you were anyone in your life - and he with you. But sex was just never on the discussion board for you two.

"Do you wanna get laid tonight?"

"Are you offering?" you shoot back teasingly.

"Of course," he says softly.

Your mouth drops.

Of course? Of course?!

"I mean! No! What? Wait? Can you repeat the question?"

"You said yes," you say slowly.

"What! No! I did not!"

Jimin is basically stomping his foot on the ground.

"You did!"

He looks almost angry and you're not sure whether to laugh at the softness with which he had agreed to fuck you - or to feel hurt by his quick change of mind.

"Did not!"

You break into giggles finally releasing yourself from your cocoon of warmth to sprawl out on the bed in a fit of laughter. Your little tirade is quickly shut down though as the silky fabric of the dress is thrown onto your face and you cough around the material.

"Get dressed. I don't want to be late," he says, his voice flat.

“It’s too cold for the slut dress,” you grumble in a last ditch effort, fabric falling into your mouth as you sleep.

“Then wear a fucking turtleneck and snow pants to the club,” Jimin says. “I don’t care, just please get dressed.”

The door slams and when you pull the dress away from your face, the room is empty again. With a sigh, you roll off the bed and begin to get ready for the night.

By the time you pulled up to the dark, sticker-plastered doors of the club, Jimin had resumed his usually joyful and peppy demeanor, all memories of his little slip up erased from the night.

You knew better than to push him about it. You knew that he shut down when you called him out on these things in the past— like the way his eyes lingered on you for too long when you showed off a new bathing suit, the cute little stutter he donned when he was flustered by you, or the way he would basically run at top speed in any direction away from you when you emerged from the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.

As you are swallowed into the sea of dancing figures and booming bass, you feel his hand come to rest on your waist. Pushing further into the crowd, his touch is reassuring. Steadying. His way of keeping a hold on you without actually holding onto you.

He sees them before you do, and quickly grabs onto your hand, tugging you forward into the mass of swaying figures. Waving and yelling their names, the two of you tumble towards your friends. Jungkook and Raven stand near the bar, their faces lighting up when they finally spot you in the mess of strangers.

Raven embraces you first, his arms pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I wanna dance!” Jungkook says before you can even step away from Raven. Drinks abandoned, Jungkook has grabbed both yours and Jimin’s hands and drags you out to the dance floor.

The bass courses through you as your friends surround you, bopping and swaying to the barely understandable lyrics.

Jimin has always been a good dancer. A great dancer, actually. His moves range from absolutely side-achingly hilarious to -- dare you say it -- undeniably sensual.

He twirls you onto the dance floor, the two of you falling into your usual routine of swinging and laughing and kicking all around.

And as the upbeat and perhaps misplaced summer hit switches to a more sensual song he matches it naturally, letting his hips sway and glide to the rhythm. He pulls you along with him, twirling you more slowly. When you twist into his grasp, he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms, pressing you against him.

As his arms come to wrap around your shoulders, you can’t help but press back into him.

Raven winks at you and you grin back at him, shooing him and his teasing away.

It’s easy to fall into this. Easy to fall into the sway of Jimin’s body and the safety that comes with being pressed so close against him. You fit perfectly into his body, every one of your curve the antithesis to his. Like two puzzle pieces.

You let your hand drop down to his thigh, gripping it for stability as you sway your hips against his. The muscle tenses beneath your touch and you take that as an opportunity to roll your ass against his crotch.

He meets your movements, grinding back up into you, his hand dropping to your waist where he grips you tightly and guides your movements even further back into him.  

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers in your ear.

His body pressed against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. The nights the two of you have spent in your kitchen, sliding around in socks and grooving to your favorite music, springing each other around your shared house — all of those hours, all of those years make it so when he moves against you he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what you want him to do. You move in tandem, as if you are sharing a brain, a story, a body.

You tilt your head up to him, nuzzling into his neck.

“Why not?”

“I-I can’t mess up.” He says, but he continues to sway at your back.

“You’re not messing up. I like this.”

As you reach behind you, letting your hand trail up beneath his shirt, you can feel him press into your touch. Chasing it, searching it out. But as your hand trails back down, fingernails scraping delicately against the skin, he seems to snap out of it and steps back from you, even as he keeps his hands on your hips.

You turn, trying to pull him back to you, but you see his brow is furrowed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine!” he says, just a little to cheerfully. “I-I just think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”

Even as he says it he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get some drinks, do you want something?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“I— uh— it’s not that.” He shakes his head.

“Please, come on, it’ll be fun,” you groan, tugging on his arm. But he stands firm and stiff. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I don’t want to dance tonight. Just go on ahead.”

You look your friend up and down. Jimin was never one to turn down an opportunity to dance.

“Okay,” you say, painting a smile on your features even as your heart aches slightly at his rejection. “I just want you to have fun. Do you want me to come with?”

“No--it’s okay. I’ll be back, alright?”

“Alright?”

You watch as he disappears back into the mass of people. You stand still, wondering What the hell just happened?

However, your thoughts are quickly interrupted as Raven reaches out to you, pulling you to him in a graceful spin.

“Distract yourself, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll come around, don’t you worry.”

Before you have a chance to process his words, Raven spins you out again in the crowd.

You stumble just a little bit, until hands come to rest on the dip of your hips, lingering there just enough to stabilize you. However, they quickly release you as soon as you are standing tall again.

“Oh, ah, thank you,” you half-yell as you turn around, attempting to raise your voice above the noise.

The man who stands behind you is undeniably gorgeous. Tall, with a dark lock of hair hanging into your forehead and the most beautiful smile.

“No worries, it happens all the time,” he grins at you. “What’s your name.”

You yell back at him, but when he can’t hear you, you step closer to him, pressing against his chest to speak your name into his ear. His hand comes down on your waist as you do, lightly.

“My name’s Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though. Care to dance?”

You grin up at him and nod. You’ve never been one to turn down a dance partner.

He takes your hand, quick to find the rhythm of the music.

Hoseok is a natural. As each song progresses, his dances become more intricate. He’s happy to lead you through them and you can’t help but laugh as he spins you around the floor while others are swaying and grinding. You’ve never had this much fun with a stranger, but as he moves against you, you can’t help but think of the way Jimin felt pressed so close to you earlier in the night. It’s just not quite the same.

It’s easy to get lost in him, in his beaming smile and witty jokes that he bends down to whisper in your ear. He compliments you freely, and you do the same in return.

As the night continues you and Hoseok dance closer and closer until he’s pressed deliciously up against your back. You find yourself lost in the sensation of being embraced by someone, even if it isn’t the person you’d want to be there.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but do you wanna come home with me?” The man leans down, the husk of his voice brushing deliciously against your ear.

“I can’t.” You say, turning back towards him. “But thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, leaning down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Can I ask you a question before you go?”

You nod.

“Does your refusal have anything to do with the man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since we started dancing?”

“What?”

He nods over your shoulder, back towards the bar. Through the crowd, you can barely see your friends, but as you reach up on your tippy toes you see them all gathered around, laughing and talking. And then at the edge of them is Jimin. He stands tall and proud and with an unusually grim expression on his face. But when he sees you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to his drink, which he is continually swirling in his hand.

“You’re going home with him, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh, he’s my roommate, I—”

“You should go for it,” he interrupts you.

“Go for it?”

“Go for it.”

“There’s nothing there,” you state, matter of factly. “We’re just really good friends!” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but there’s something soft in his eyes that spurs you on.

“Good friends don’t eye fuck each other all night.”

“We weren’t—”

“No need to explain it to me.” He holds up his hands. “But it seems like you have some explaining to do to him. Or at least to yourself.”

You sputter. “Psh! What! No! I’m just tired, Hobi, and if I had the energy I would be fucking you right here, right now, on the dance floor. It has nothing to do with Jimin. Nothing at all!” You realize you’ve got your finger poking into his chest and you quickly draw it back. “Sorry.”

“Okay…”

“Well.” You put your hands on your hips, wiping the frustrated look off of your face. “I should go, I guess. It was nice dancing with you, partner. I’ll be the first to admit you got great hips.”

He’s laughing, and you’re not sure if it’s at you or with you, but when you extend you hand for a friendly fistbump, he meets it with all the enthusiasm in the world, pulls you into a hug, and is off on his merry way, off to find a new dancing partner.

Left alone in the middle of the floor, you kind of just stand there, mulling over what the stranger had said to you. Soon though, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around to see a blank faced Jimin.

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m all good!” you chirp, perhaps too cheerfully. As you begin to make your way back to the bar, his hand comes to rest on your lower back and you shiver at the touch.

“So you’re not going home with him?” He nods back in the direction of the disappearing stranger.

“Why would I?”

“Well, you wore your slut dress, so I figured he was a contender.” He doesn’t meet your eye.

“I didn’t want to fuck him.” You stop, and turn to him.

He laughs, almost nervously. “Well I guess that’s an important factor.”

“Yeah, just a minor detail,” you shoot back, grinning.

“I guess it’s all for the best. Didn’t like the looks of him much anyways.

You giggle. “What? Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be jealous.”

“Can’t be? Or aren’t?”

Jimin blinks back at you, an expression of utter surprise on his face. You know his answer in that moment, and yet — there is a kind of doubt that sits in you. That until he says it, it just won’t be real.

And still, he avoids your question.

“I think I’m gonna head home, do you wanna come with or head back with Tae and Raven?”

“I’ll come back with you, there’s nothing left here for me.”

“Great,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

“My heat is still out,” you call.

You’re standing at the door to his room in nothing but your pajama shirt. When you’d gotten home Jimin was quick to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams and book it up to his bedroom. You had gone to your own room and changed into sleep clothes, only to climb into bed and realize just how fucking freezing your blankets still were.

But as you stand outside his bedroom, when you press down on the handle, the door is unusually locked. He never locks the door, you think.

“Jimin!”

You push down on the handle, jiggling it obnoxiously as you hope your best friend can hear you from the other side, and isn’t just ignoring you. As you rattle the metal handle, something seems to come loose within the door and all of a sudden the door is swinging open inwards and there’s Jimin, leaning against the backboard of his bed, legs spread, and--

“Oh no—”

Even as your hands flash up to cover your eyes, you know it’s too late.

You’ve already seen it.

It’s imprinted on your brain. The image of Jimin with his head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock hastily pulled out of his jeans. He must have been in such a rush he didn’t even bother to pull his pants down. Instead, the leather pants are simply tugged down just enough from him to slip his cock out of them.

“What the fuck!” he yelps.

“Did I—interrupt?” You can’t help but burst into giggles, even as you keep your hands firmly clamped to your face.

“Yes! Yes, you did!” he says, scrambling for the sheet. He pulls it over himself and then does up his pants again.

“If it makes you feel any better you have a nice looking dick!” you squeak out from behind your hands.

He wipes a hand wearily over his face.

“You really wanna have a conversation about my dick right now?”

“See a dick, converse about a dick, am I right?” you laugh nervously.

“No, no, you’re not. It usually goes like ‘see a dick, forget the fact that you ever looked at a dick.’”

“You got a point there.”

The room falls into silence for a moment before Jimin coughs and speaks.

“You can take your hands away now.”

Ever-so-slowly you release your hands from your face, looking over at Jimin who looks — not upset, not embarrassed, not angry — but intrigued. He’s looking at you with a mix of curiosity — and something else. Something you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Welp, I better be going—”

“I thought you said your heat is still out.”

You turn back around slowly.

“...It is. But I can go. I don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”

“You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if you could.”

“I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable before. Like that one time I put peanut butter on your special pickles and tried to fry them—”

“Okay, okay, maybe in like, a superficial way. But not in a deep way.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend for a reason.”

You’re still standing in the doorway, and as he looks you over — gaging your reaction, reading your emotions, trying to understand what’s going on in that far-off mind of yours — he realizes you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso, protecting yourself from the biting draft that drifts down the hallway.

“Come ‘ere. You’re sleeping here tonight.” He says it without hesitation.

You look at him, and then back down the darkened hallway, and then back at him, the warm glow of his bedside lamp painting his features gold. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, his chest peeks out of his loose button down. And perhaps it’s that image that draws you to him — or, what you tell yourself in that moment, the inviting warmth of the layers of blankets on his bed and the radiator that sits close by.

You climb into bed, quickly tucking yourself into the blankets and rolling onto your side, away from him. However, you can feel his hands reaching out towards you, pulling the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to their addicting warmth.

“I’m uh, gonna read for a little bit, is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, course,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow you’ve stolen and burry your face into.

He rifles through the nightstand. Behind you, he shifts, getting a bit more comfortable and you can hear the comforting sound of pages turning as he begins to read.

Even as you close your eyes, sleep evades you. As much as you try to banish it from your mind, it seems as if the image of his thick cock is burned into your retina, the vein on the underside of it swollen and pronounced. All you can see in your mind’s eye is Jimin, lost in his own pleasure. His face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. What would it be like to see what he saw, whatever it was that had him gripping his cock so tight the knuckles began to turn white?

“So do you usually masterbate without porn?”

It slips out before you know what you’re saying.

He coughs behind you, and it sounds like he’s choking.

“What?!”

Well, you think. Now that it’s out there I might as well just go for it. You flip over onto your otherside, face half hidden by the blanket.

“When I walked in on you — you were just… lost in thought. No video or audio or,” you nod at the book he’s holding. “Rip off of Half a Hundred Colors of Dark-White.”

He gapes at you.

“Why are you so obsessed with my masterbatory habits, hm?”

“I-I’m not! I’m just curious, like one would be when they accidentally catch their best friend masterbating. We all, you know, do it. I, myself, have a very lovely connection of multi-colored vibrators — all sizes and shapes and, uh, textures? And vibrations and settings and speeds and—”

“So you wanna talk about it then?” He’s still sitting above, looking down on you. He cocks an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You didn’t want to talk about last night but you want to talk about how I get myself off?”

It’s your turn to gape.

“Uh, what? Last night, psh no!”

He readjusts his position so he’s facing you now, one leg bent and propped up, the other one folded beneath it. You do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face, and not on the prominent bulge that is now in your direct line of vision.

“So you weren’t grinding on my cock last night — or god forbid tonight at the club — But you wanna know about my masterbatory habits?”

You swallow and despite the chill air of the bedroom, you sit up, letting the blankets fall around your waist.

“I suppose that is what I’m asking.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you lick your lips. You know what you’re asking. You know where you’re pushing things. Everything about this next step terrifies you. And yet, it’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Hell, the past several years.

You’d be lying if you said that last night’s dream was the tamest of the ones Jimin starred in. He haunted you. His image, his being, were everywhere you turned. Even when you were with other partners or one night stands, all you could do was compare them to Jimin. Were they as softly hilarious as him? Did they know your every thought, your every desire, like he did? Could they anticipate your mood before you even could? Did they fill you with that feeling of belonging and safety like he did? No. None of them ever did. You didn’t just crave Jimin’s attention, you craved his touch.

“You know, most friends talk about this kind of shit.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. They talk about sex. They talk about getting off. They talk about their interests and turn-offs and fantasies and--”

“And you wanna talk about this?” His hand lands on yours. You look up at him as he squeezes your fingers within his warm grasp.

“I-I guess I do. Sometimes it bothers me that we don’t talk about it.”

“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, a little bit more confidence slipping into his voice. He picks your hand up, weaving his fingers in between yours. The way he looks at them reminds you of someone looking at a beautiful vista or an undiscovered creature for the first time. There is wonder -- and also confusion -- in him. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to… turn our friendship into something that you didn’t want. Something that made you uncomfortable.”

“And I didn’t want to push.”

“Push me? Into what?”

You glance down at your hands. “I don’t know, something that you were disgusted by.”

“I could never be disgusted by you. It’s the opposite, actually.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? When I want to talk about things? When I want to be close to you?”

Jimin is silent for a moment.

“Because I’m never sure if this is just fun to you,” he says softly. “What if something happens and you realize you don’t want it in the way you thought you did?”

“And what if something happens and it’s exactly what I want?” One hand still resting in his grasp, you reach out with the free one to clutch onto his shirt. Not wanting to push too far, you make do with tangling your fingers in the silky fabric, twisting it around yourself until you are lost in it.

You don’t see it coming. His hand reaching up to yours, pressing your hand to his chest. Slowly, he slides your intertwined hands up until he can press your palm to his chest. Beneath the fabric you can hear the gentle thud of his heart beating, quicker than usual. And there, he just holds it. Mulling. Contemplating.

“It feels like I’ve been distracted…” He licks his lips as he considers his next several words. “...for weeks. Probably longer. I’ve been trying to hold everything in because it’s not supposed to be there. But the temptation to just give in… To just lean into the things that I want… It’s always there. It doesn’t go away. But--sometimes I can distract myself from it.”

“What is it that you want?”

His gaze flickers back up from your lips. The look in his eyes is searing. Burning. There’s desire there — one that’s all consuming — but something else too. He refuses to look away from you, instead roving over your whole face as if he’s trying to memorize it. As if when he speaks next he might forget you entirely. And that’s when you realize. It’s not confusion dancing in his eyes. It’s loss. He thinks he’s going to lose you.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”

“You can.”  

“I can’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold back. “There— there are lines that once you cross you can never go back to.”

“Jimin, I want you.”

The words hang in the stilled silence of the room like lead, suspended and out of place. But you push on, and as you do, his grip tightens around your hands and he’s pulling you forward until you’re flush against his chest.

“And it’s not because of your monster cock -- although that’s like a really really great benefit that I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting--” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I want you for you. I think I’ve wanted you since I met you, but--” You glance down. “I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared or too dumb.”

Jimin raises your chin so that you are eye to eye. He’s so close.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you.” He lets his hands drop to your hips, maneuvering you so that you’re fully straddling his waist as he sits up against the headboard. “I wanted you in my life, in whatever way that would be. I wanted you as my best friend and my inspiration and my home -- and to have you like that? I would never want to fuck it up.”

“Then don’t.”

“Simple as that,” he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. He tightens his grip and you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer to you.

“Simple as that,” you repeat.

The words hang in the air for a moment, filling the space of the bedroom. And then their sound is gone, leaving the air vacant of sound. The weight of what you’ve both just said crashes down upon you.

Simple as that.

“I want to kiss you,” Jimin whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” you barely manage to mumble before your lips are crashing together. They begin clumsily, desperate. Teeth knocking together as you both scramble frantically for connection. For the missed years. For the gazes thrown across the hallway, quick and longing.

And then you find your groove. Just like on the dance floor, there is an unspoken communication to the way that you move together. Chasing and pursuing. Biting and pressing. You gasp as Jimin slips his tongue between your lips, swiping against the roof of your mouth.

It feels like forever and no time at all that you’re wrapped up in his arms, his hands climbing the height of your back as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

As the kiss slips into gentleness, you feel him between your legs. He’s impossibly hard. You don’t know if it’s thought or basic instinct that leads you to press your hips forward, sliding ever so slightly along his length. You know you’ve done the right thing when he groans into your mouth. You do it again, this time swiveling against him. His hands snake down to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of your sides.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he groans against your lips.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He kisses you fiercely and you let your hands wander beneath the silk of his shirt, tracing the planes of his skin until you’ve had enough and need more. You attempt to tug the fabric up, but he seems lost in your lips.

“Off, please,” you say when you can’t get it over his shoulders.

He grins at you and shucks it off in one go, tossing it onto the floor.

You lean back just enough to admire him like this, the planes of his chest glowing dimly in the light of the lamp.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in awe.

He captures your lips again, his movements soft and dutiful. And then with all the gentleness in the world, he turns the both of you, cradling the nape of your neck as he lowers you down onto the pillows.

“I never thought I could have you like this.”

“Me neither. I-I don’t know if I can go back.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I already know I don’t want to go back.”  

You smile up at him, a feeling of warmth and love spreading through your chest. As he sits back, looking down on you, you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to join his discarded top on the floor.

His eyes rove over your naked form, bare of everything except for the grannie panties you slipped on before knocking on his door. At the beginning of the night you wanted nothing but to make sure everything was thoroughly covered. Now you wish you had gone for something a bit more stylish.

Even as you think this, looking at him you know he doesn’t give a flying fuck what you’re wearing.

He leans down again, kissing you. He lets his weight rest just enough on you as he settles between your legs and you arch up at the dull contact.

As he bites down on your lip, you push up into him, searching for more.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Please,” you gasp.

His hand comes down on your thigh, pushing you open just enough. And then, as he comes back to kiss you, he slips his hand down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help as your hips buck up as he slips a finger down your folds. You’re already soaking, arousal quickly coating his finger.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers against your lips, gaze searching yours. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

As the final word slips out of his mouth, he inserts the first finger into your tight entrance and you yelp in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you more sensation than you could imagine. Ever so slowly, he begins to pump it in and out before adding a second finger.

“I want to get you ready for me,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want it,” you gasp as he presses against your g spot. “Please, I need it, please, Jimin, fuck me.”

“Patience, baby. I will in due time. But first I need you a little more stretched out.”  

When he adds a third finger, the pressure building deliciously in your abdomen, there’s nothing you can do to hold back the way your body jerks or the whine that slips through your lips.

“God, I never even imagined you would sound this desperate, this beautiful.”

As he continues to press against the soft spongy spot inside you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep control but quickly losing it.

“You thought about this?”

“Of course I thought about it.”

“Tell me what you thought about,” you pant, his fingers still working rhythmically in and out of you.

“The list is endless,” he murmurs. “I think about what it would feel like to fuck you. What it would sound like to have you call my name. What it would be like to have you cum again and again around my cock, and then walk out of here, with it dripping down your leg so that anyone who sees will know it too. To have you so fucked out and screaming that everyone in a ten mile radius knows exactly who is fucking you so well, who you belong to.”

“Ah!” you cry as your orgasm begins to build. “Jimin! I’m so close, I--”

And just like that, his fingers are gone from your clenching walls and you are left with a feeling of absolute emptiness drifting through you. He pulls back with a smirk.

“Wha--”

“When you come, I want it to be around my cock.”

Your gaze flickers down to his crotch, where his dick is straining against the tight confines of the leather. “That just can’t be comfortable,” you say, your voice shaking even as you unapologetically eye his obvious arousal. “Please take them off. I’ll make you feel good.”

“You can?”

“I want to,” you explain. “I want to help.” You look up at him again and see that his gaze is dark with desire. “Can I?”

Slowly, he nods, and you reach out towards him, for the buttons to his jeans. As your fingers land on the cold metal of the button, his come down atop yours, popping the button open expertly.

As you slowly slide the zipper down, you swallow.

Everything about this feels right. There’s the sensation of a fire burning in your chest. It’s not just wanting his body. It’s chasing the feeling of electricity sparking through you every time he touches you. Chasing the want of his hands, his gaze, his everything focused on you. Something twinges in your heart. Even as you want these things, you know it’s not fair to ask them of him, to expect them of him.

He stands to slip the rest of his pants off and you realize he’s not even wearing underwear. You gulp as you watch him strip, his beautiful body soon revealed in the dim lighting. His cock stands at full attention, deliciously hard and poking against his belly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

“I want it more than anything.”

The bed dips underneath his weight as he climbs towards where you lay. He lowers himself above you, expertly balancing his weight so that it doesn’t crush you. With one hand, he reaches down to palm his hard cock, the tip red and angry with need. With his knee, he pushes your legs wide open, making room for himself and spreading you out before him. At a devastatingly slow speed, he lines himself up with your aching center.

“So wet for me, princess. You’ve always been beautiful to me, but spread out like this, just waiting for my cock? You’re a dream.”

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?”

As he comes to nestle his cock in between your dripping folds, you whimper with need.

All you can feel is his cock, his touch against your skin, the way his presence surrounds you and envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Jimin.”

He chuckles.

“You’re so desperate, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“My baby wants me to fuck her?” He slides slowly in and your back arches devilishly at the sensation of his fat cock stretching you open for him. He watches your facial expression carefully, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far too fast.

When he sees you relax just a little, he pushes in even further until he’s nestled inside you to the hilt. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he lets himself slip into the pleasure of you wrapped all around him. His eyes flutter closed, and he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath, pushing up off of you so that he can better look down at you, your hair splayed on the pillow, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes wide in pleasure.

“God, you’re perfect for my cock. Like you were made to fit me.”

“Mmf, so big,” you groan as he shifts inside you. “Never felt this full before.”

As he begins to move, you gasp, hands coming up to cling at his back. The drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt is divine and you can’t help as your nails dig into his skin, raking down the planes of his back.

His eyes never leave your face, tracing your pleasure every time it flashes across your features.

“When I imagined this,” he pants, “I never even thought it could feel this good.”

He withdraws at a maddeningly slow pace, until just the tip of his cock rests inside your warmth.

“Please Jimin,” you gasp. “I need more.”

He smirks down at you. “More?” He gives a shallow thrust.

“More,” you groan, trying to push your hips down on him, anything to take him further into you. However, his hand quickly comes down on your hips, stopping all movement.

Leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, you gasp into his mouth as he thrusts into you with a great force. You cry his name as he bites down on your lower lip, the pace he sets brutal and exactly what you need. Each thrust rolls through your entire body, setting your nerves alight. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, your spine arches, hands slipping away from his back and coming to wrap around his wrists.

When he growls, you clench at the sound.

Your eyes flicker open in time to see his mouth gape and he groans when you do it again.

He answers your tightness with another roll of his hips, this time changing the angle just enough that it hits your g spot directly. You spasm around his cock, crying out as he continues to fuck you.

“You’ve ruined me,” Jimin gasps. “Nothing else, no one else is going to be like this. I wanna fuck this cunt until you can’t think of anything else.”

You start to respond, to tell him how much you want that, but his hand comes down on your clit, rubbing just gently enough that you’re yelping in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“I’m really gonna fuck you now, baby. I want you to touch yourself until you can’t anymore, okay?”

You nod, reaching down to your clit where your fingers brush against one another. You look down to see his cock rutting in and out of you, coated in your juices. As he withdraws his hand, he begins to pick up his speed.

The pace he sets reaches deep into your body, setting every nerve alight. You cling to him, begging him to fuck you harder. His cock seems to reach every single sensitive spot within you as rock your hips back up to his, meeting his every movement. He lets you now, lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, seeking the same pleasure together.

When his pace begins to stutter, thrusts becoming long and rough, you know he’s close to his end.

“Baby, I’m going to come,” he groans. He begins to sit back up and withdraw, but you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him towards you, the other one coming to press on the dip of his hips.

“Come inside, Jimin.”

“But--”

“I’m safe. I want to feel you come inside me. Wanna come with you.”

He groans at your words and lowers himself to you, letting his hips grind against yours in a tide of sensation. Each movement pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm until three words are tumbling from his lips and you are tipping over the edge.

He kisses you as you both ride out your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing through your body and into his as if you are connected on more than just a physical level. His lips are soft against yours, guiding you through your orgasm. Everything is breathless and wildly full, all at once.

Pulling back as his cock twitches within you, he peppers your neck with kisses, his plush lips pressing softly against the delicate skin beneath your ear.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I love you too,” you hum, eyes fluttering blissfully closed as you tangle a hand in his hair, pressing him closer to you.

That’s how you fall asleep. Tangled up in each other, bodies meshed together until there’s no way to tell which way is up.

You wake up wrapped in warmth. The kind of warmth that radiates from your heart, shining on outwards and into the room around you. And, as your eyes blink open, you notice it also radiates from the absolute furnace that clings to your back.

“Mmm,” the furnace grumbles, rubbing his nose against the soft nape of your neck. You can feel him press his lips against the top of your spine, his breath fanning delicately against your skin. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” You speak softly, as if any noise will break the memory of last night, his whispered affections against your skin as you drifted off to sleep still hanging in the air. Too loud and you will shatter and destroy the memory. The words of his confession still carved into your skin, your mixed pleasures riddled through your body, the song of his joy and laughter emblazoned into the room -- all of that, you think, will disappear if you move too quickly or speak too loudly.

However, that notion is quickly banished when Jimin rolls over and groans dramatically, spreading his limbs out until he starfishes over the entire bed -- including you. With a little grunt, he flips over on his belly, shimmying over to you. Pulling the blankets down around you, you gasp as the cool air hits your skin.

He’s quick to rectify this as he rolls onto you, resting his head on your stomach, blowing a raspberry into your skin. You screech in laughter and as the sensation rushes through you, tickling you.

It takes a minute or two before you calm down, looking lovingly down at the man who holds your heart and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead.

“I love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your belly.

“Do you?” you giggle, doubt still riddled in your mind.

His eyes shoot up to yours.

“Of course I do. Is there any question about it?” You look down on him, worry in your gaze. “Oh, baby.” He’s quick to prop himself up on his hands, but still stays sprawled out atop you, his weight heavy and comforting. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you--” You open your mouth to tell him there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but his hand comes up quickly and covers your mouth, effectively shushing you. “--at least I knew I was going to love you the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall madly and deeply in love with all of your quirks and strange obsessions and deep passions and maddenly horrible humor. And I knew I loved you a year in, and every day after that.”

You look down on him, tears welling up in your eyes at his sincerity.

“Come ‘ere,” you say, pulling him up towards you. He crawls up your chest, playfully nipping at your bare breasts before settling against you. He kisses you. Lets you sink into the sensation. And then he pulls back and says,

“Aren’t you going to tell me you love me too?”

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of that dorky smile.

But you do know the tears threatening to spill over are rising from the deep, unnamable affection that rolls through your chest, finally released from silence. You want to call it love, and that is what you will call it, but there’s also something that goes so much deeper than the word itself. Something you know you will spend your whole life trying to explain to him.

read more: masterlist 

Taglist: @taestannie @thatlongspringnight @spicykoreantatertots​ @usuallynervoussheep​ @hesperantha​ @myimaginationsrunningwild​@lucedelsole97​ @heichooou​ @jiminskth​

#ficswithluv #bantanarmynet #bangtanhq #btscreatorscorner #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #jimin roommates au #roommates au #roommates!au #jimin roommates!au #jimin f2l #jimin nonidol!au #nonidol au #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts f2l #bts roommates au #bts x reader #jimin fairytale #park jimin #bts #bts fics

[cyberdva]

take me home- b.c.

Summary: Staying with Stray Kids over the holidays via the first-hand invitation from Chan sounded like the perfect vision. When New Years’ roles around tension grew, in the coming days you’d have to leave and someone needed to confess the secret scratching at his core for years on end. With a little plan from your best friend’s bandmates, this new year would be one to remember forever.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Anxiety, and a Makeout Scene

Word Count: 2.3k

Stray Kids Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: (Gender Neutral Reader!!)  hey everyone! it’s sort of a tradition for me to write a short little fic for new years. this time i chose to write about chan since he’s turned my life around and brought so much positive change into my life. i’m forever grateful to him and stray kids. thank you for reading all of my sappy drama. life is going to get better!

Being away from the same place you’d called home for the past who knows long felt strange. Don’t get me wrong, it was a major relief to be able to roam around a different area after the entire world was basically held captive in their own minds for the better. Having a second family in the form of an idol group, led by the most talented person you could think of, gave an excuse to seek refuge in their dorms, but this time they nearly begged for your presence for just a few days. Listening to Felix and Seungmin plead over the phone, ironic desperation laced in their tone, for a month and a half took a white flag waving on your behalf. Putting eight celebrities, and countless others, in the possibility of danger was the glue holding you back. Nights of pondering aimlessly always led to the same conclusion. Staying and going was a bitter conflict. Flabbergasted by all the trouble you got yourself into, the thought of leaving was a knee-jerk reaction. Either Felix and Seungmin got their way or the other way around, and if an agreement couldn’t be reached a full-on melancholy would forge in its place.

“Y/N…” Chan’s voice faded in and out with vigor, a perfect speech was freshly prepped in his mind wanting nothing but to have you here with him next week, “I have a question. You have to listen to the whole thing until you answer, okay?” His teeth grazed a chunk of flesh dragging in backwards in anticipation. 

“I’ll come visit.” There was a cold breeze, lacing the darkness with foreign excitement, a feeling you had last had back in freshman year when Chris came home to visit you  Training was the main priority for him, his young mind opened up the new group his company yearned to produce. Either lead a normal childhood or give the future its star-studded path. It hurt to see him go, more than anything had before, but when your bedroom door slowly creaked open it was worth the wait. Chan still remembers how you hugged him, tightly with so much emotion, it made him come to terms with the feeling brewing in his own mind. Truly cliché, but the way butterflies bubbled in his stomach and hands shook like leaves on a palm tree stuck in a brawny gust gave him desires which laid discrete too prolonged. Your response ignited that same lust, Chan’s voice hitched in between the words collapsing from his delicate lips. It brought a stunted tint to your cheeks, a rare occurrence in general. 

The man’s eyes fluttered in amazement, “Y-You’re serious, not joking right?” Fingertips grazed the dew buttons nearing the edge of his phone, mimicking his posture at the moment.

“Do I not sound serious?” A puff of humor fell from your mouth, “Just make sure I don’t regret it, I’ll text you tomorrow Chrissy.” Left in his own bewilderment, it only had now begun to register the weight of the situation. His only lover, one-sided in his wit, of a near lifetime, was coming just for him, and his annoying ‘children.’ 

“I fucking hate that nickname.” 

“Are you even old enough to have alcohol?” Buzzing with anticipation, the young woman dashed past an elated Minho forcefully dancing with Hyunjin, who looked about to pass out from drained practice from earlier on. Your hands clutched onto a champagne bottle, it still has a hint of frost to the touch. Jeongin flashed her a pout and gave swift retaliation, “It’s not for me! Hannie told me to open it for all of us!” His long fingers snatched it right back into his possession. 

Changbin laid motionless on the couch, "It’s five minutes until midnight! Seungmin could you go grab Chan, I have no clue where he is.” A nod came from the other man, his footsteps faded in a quick manner. The aura swelled cheer through every inch of your body, it has been so long since you’d last experienced such an amazing weekend with the ardent people. Something did feel off, and everyone noticed. Chan just wasn’t as sociable, his time was mostly spent scrambling on his phone or just in utter silence. 

An abnormal amount of time passed and Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Your legs cracked a bit as you stood up, your mission was to now find that man-child if it was the last thing you did. Nerves jittered across your arms and wrists, it lingered in the small crevasses between tight joints. You were in love with Christopher Bang and this moment was the same as any other with him, but that sentence never fully processed in your mind. Instead doubts about confessions replayed constantly, it was an anxiety pressed down to the base of your concerns, yet it still bobbed for attention every now and again. 

“You alright?” Placing your body against the hard doorframe of Chan’s room wasn’t the brightest idea. A hard chunk of metal pressed directly into your thigh making this conversation more awkward to begin with. Chris was at a small wooden desk, still working his creativity to death, even during a celebration. His large, slick headphones fortunately didn’t block out the sound of your tender voice. It came as a surprise to him, normally Chan wasn’t this jumpy. Even a small amount of embarrassment tainted the normally confident persona of himself. He quickly spun around and tilted his head in recognition, silently motioning you to speak. 

Moving from the uncomfortable stance you continued, "You’ve been acting really weird lately. You know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” Scanning his face for any reaction probably made things a bit worse, his posture caved in on itself and you couldn’t help feeling bad for possibly brining up something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. For the one moment he looked up at you it brought pang of guilt over your chest. 

A sigh escaped you unconsciously, “Sorry if I made you upset or anything, I’ll let you work some more, but at least get some rest later.” Chan shook his hands in retaliation as you spoke, slowly getting up from his seat as he did.

“I don’t know how to say this,” his eyes darted every which way except for you, “I should’ve told you a lot earlier and I regret not doing that and shit, but just listen to me.” You slowly bobbed your head up in down in a confused likeness. He radiated uneasiness in an odd, eager way. The silence between each sentence ate away at your mind. 

He reached out for your wrist, slowly moving it up waiting for consent, “Y/N, we’ve known each other for a really long time and ever since second grade I’ve…” he stopped. Now your agitation grew, what was he even talking about? His breathing staggered, “I’ve had like the biggest crush on you.” Did I just hear that right? A wave of panic took control over the two of you.Still yet to response, and react fot that matter, to what Chan said it made him start to plung into some sort of hysteria. 

Finally words pieced themselves together, “You’re in love with me?” He nodded, “Why didn’t you say anything.” When Chris would say he was shy you never thought it was to that extent. Imagining how hard that must’ve been to conceal wasn’t that difficult, your feeling for the man definitely were the exact same. Back in high school all your friends would be graced to hear your stories about how Chan is so hot, how much you miss him, how you’re going to marry him, and more and more. It was tough to never see him in person, it stung when you would call him in the rare date he was allowed to. 

“I like you too, ever since first grade for me.” His spirit turned into the complete opposite of before, now with a crimson shade of disbelief painted across his lug, “Your ears are red.” You laughed, his hands reached to tuck his hair back over the spectacle. 

“What do we do now?” The question floated in the air with the intensity of the conversation peeling away. Neither adult fully understood what was happening. The importance of their relationship crumbled away with small banter and painful jokes.

A bright idea formulated in your mind, “We could kiss.” Chris blankly took in what you said and graced a devious smile, “I like that idea.” Chan grabbed your waist and snatched you closer to his body, which was strangely warm. Not like you were complaining. Brushing a few obscure hairs away from your face he peered extensively at your stunning features, taking them all in. It wasn't long until Chan smashed his lips into your own and you eagerly returned the kiss.

For the next few minutes the two were engulfed in a kiss, making the whole room sway and trip over its own feet. Your grip on him became tighter and you locked your fingers together at his back, making sure you wouldn't lose him. After a few more minutes Chan began to push his lips to your neck, making sure to explore every inch of your skin with his tongue. You giggled and clutched him closer. Your lips caressed his chin and his neck, kissing every inch of them and playing with his eyelashes. Chan opened his mouth to kiss your neck but you put a finger on his lips, but he kept going. You heard footsteps coming closer even with the small noises coming from the older one. 

“I found him…” Seungmin walked right through the open door and adjusted to the scene in front of him, “Ew!” his face contorted into a disgusted look, “I found Y/N too.” Now that your expected make out session was confirmed, the rest of the boys peaked down the hallway with oddly happy faces. Chan was beet-red and began muttering quick apologies under his breath. Adorning a beaming smile you took his hand and guided Chan back to the rest of the group, “You talk too much, but that’s why I love you.” 

“Love me? Well, um I love you too.. I have for a really long time.” Your heart swelled from his cumbersome behavior, he really never changed much from his youth. With that said your cheeks flushed and a broad smile spread across your face, as your entire body flushed from head to toe. The boy had a way of making your cheeks do a very special kind of glow. With only a minute and a half on the clock it was awfully laid back. Normally people go all out on New Years, but everyone just wanted this one to end as quickly as possible. Spaced away from his large crew you noticed that there was a rather large difference in Chan’s mind and the way he acted. In front of his members there was a much more dominant manner to his actions. He really cared about them, luck was the only way to describe how you felt about knowing him so personally. 

Felix was the most thrilled of the bunch, "Twenty seconds left!” He bounced up and down with his grin growing wider than before. Whenever Felix was around the atmosphere automatically lit up. He just has that special feeling to him. While you flashed backed into your mind thinking about random anomalies Chan was gazing at you with piercing eyes and when you threw a glance back at him, he stayed still. Out of the blue, grabbing your hands and holding it tight.

“Ten!” This didn’t feel wrong, nor right, never in a million years did you think your childhood best friend would keep the same feelings for you tucked away. Trying to fill that void with one night stands, relationships that never ended well, and even distancing yourself from Chris wasn’t ever the answer you thought it was.

“Nine!” He was hidden in plain sight, could you be labeled the fool in all of this? Really Chris could too, it took so long to face the truth.”

“Eight!” Putting his career on the line is the next discussion, if fans or media found out about the two of you his contract could be terminated. The hate he faces already is too much, you would never want to hurt him.

“Seven!” The harmonic combination of everyone’s chants was relaxing, calming the storm of thousands of ‘What if..’ questions piling from your brain.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris was now right by your ear, burning straight into your sight. You jerked your body back in reflex, not expecting him to be so close.

“Six!” 

“What do you mean?” It was obvious, your mind felt as if it was short circuiting. This was not the first idea that popped into your head when you decided to come visit.

“Five!”

“Yes or no, hurry up.” From the tone of his voice you could tell he was dead serious. Time was running out.

“Four! Three!”

“Uh sure..” You swore a small sparkle in his eyes glistened at the response, his entire face lighting up. 

“Two!” Chris leaned closer, grabbing your chin delicately. His finger stroked the sides of your chin as his lips filled the gap and connected with yours. His lips were firm but soft and somehow you felt safe in his embrace. The kiss was soft and feather light. It lasted for maybe a couple of seconds before Chris pulled back. Your lips were still slightly swollen and her lips felt like they were on fire. You breathed slowly and opened your eyes to find him gazing at you.

"That was... good," you said a bit dazed.

He gave you a half-grin. "You're a natural." Your face broke out into a full smile still trying to wrap your head around all of this. 

“Do you mind?” Did everyone see that? Slowly your head turned to face the apparent audience all giving different reactions.”

“Minho, why don’t you kiss me like that?”

“Shut up Jisung.” Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all. 

-

-

-

“One day i’m going to marry you!”

“Chris were only like twelve, you’re going to find someone a lot better one day.”

“I don’t think i’ll ever find anyone as perfect as you.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m serious! I love you Y/N! Forever!”

“Love you too Chrissy, hurry up before we’re late for your swim practice!”

cyberdva 2021

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x female reader #bang chan smut #bang chan headcanons #chan x reader #chan x you #chan smut #new year #bang chan imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz #stay #kpop #fanfiction #fanfic #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x y/n

[jessiebanethedragon]

hello if you're not too busy or something may i request a crosshair fic where he teases the reader a lot bcs she's shorter than him (probably like, reaches his chest and that's it) and like it's cute and wholesome? srry if it's weird hehe im a sucker for height differences bcs i too, am vv short. i love your fics btw 👉👈

heya! thanks for the Request and the love xoxoxo, this started in my head as cute fluff and turned a lil more saucy than i thought it would be so... yeah... oops (Hope you like!)

Oh how you hated him, the resident sniper of Clone Force 99. You absolutely hated him, every single cell in your body despised the man. And every time you saw him that stupidly handsome face was there to mock you. He made you seethe with anger, that smirk with the toothpick and the eyes that would side stare at you like he was checking you out when in reality he was just trying to rile you up all over again. 

You’d kick his ass if it wasn't so damn attractive. 

“You look like you’re going to implode Picks.” Hunter mentioned offhand one morning in a briefing room.  Even the name sent you into a rage. Picks. Short for Toothpick, which according to Crosshair, you were the size of. 

“I hate him.” You grit out, causing Hunter to laugh from his spot in the corner, even the mere thought of you working with them again was driving you crazy. Well, okay, you didn't hate him per-say, in fact you’re actually afraid of the opposite but it’s easier to pretend that you dislike the  sniper than it is to pine over him constantly. 

“He’s not that bad…” Hunter started and then stopped when you sent him a glare. 

“Who’s not that bad?”  Tech asked entering the briefing room to look over the Holoprojection once more before you departed. With Wrecker in tow the two began discussing various assault attempts for the mission. 

“Crosshair.” Hunter supplied for his goggled brother, who immediately looked over to you, who was currently perched on a ledge, trying to ignore how your heart clenched at every mention of his name. 

“Ah yes, well…” Tech trailed off, “Don’t worry Picks i’m sure he’s uh…. Mellowed.” he offered, trying to ease your worries. 

“I hate him.” You stated again, maybe if you said it out loud enough it would be true. 

“Well that’s just rude Short Stuff.” The voice drawled from the doorway, where of course, the man in question was leaning. Not even wearing his full armor like the rest of the batch. You swore he left the top half off and pushed his sleeves up just to annoy you. 

“Listen here wise-ass. This is my mission, you follow my command.” You said hoping down from the ledge and stalking over to him, falling short (no pun intended) when your face met his chest. 

Oh the universe was cruel. 

“Yeah and what are you going to do if i don’t?” He teased, still very much relaxed. 

“I’ll kick your ass.” You snapped at him, causing Crosshair to smirk and roll the toothpick in his mouth to the opposite side. 

“Sure you can reach that high?” He asked, and if you weren't fuming before you were now. Why did he have to be so stunning and suave and flirty and oh right you’re supposed to be pissed at him... 

“Why you little…” you started.

“That's you pretty girl.” He interrupted, maker you could not win with this man.  

“I could have you court martialed.” You countered. Feeling a little disappointed that you’d reached the point of pulling rank in order to win an argument with him but he really was that difficult. 

“Of course you could. But where’s the fun in that?” He tossed back to you, before lazily saluting Hunter and striding out of the door. You threw your hands in the air as he sauntered away, had he really just shown up to drive you crazy and then leave. Probably. But he was certainly not getting the last say this time. 

“Hey!” you called after him, jogging down the empty hallway to catch up. 

“Yes general?” He raised an eyebrow for a split second before a look of fear overtook his face as you sprinted at him. Throwing yourself at the unsuspecting sniper and tackling him to the floor. Crosshair wasn't exactly as much muscle as his brothers, but he was still much bigger than you. And that didn't make an impromptu wrestling session in a GAR hallway easy. So of course in moments he had you pinned against the wall (no complaint from you other than the embarrassment of being beaten.) Legs flailing every which way in an attempt to kick/knee him in a not-so-low blow to his crotch. 

“Hey.” he said, trying to maneuver away from you legs but still keep your upper half pinned. You let out a frustrated scream. 

“Hey.” He pressed again, softer this time. 

“What?” You huffed relenting, and slipping into the grip he had on your hands and one on your hip to support you. Oh, well now things were a tad awkward. 

“I think there was some miscommunication.” Crosshair states, watching you get more and more confused. 

“How so?” You take his bait, you have no idea where he’s going with this. He lets out a sigh looking around and stepping closer to you, is it weird to notice how good he smells? You ask yourself, right around the same time your eyes meet his and you turn to putty in his hands. 

“I was tryin’ to…”  he starts before letting off another sigh. Gently leaning closer, testing the boundaries, waiting for you to tell him to back off. Instead you take a breath. 

“Trying to what?” you whisper, before it all clicks, the teasing, the names weren't even names at all. Terms of endearment, your brain finally makes the connection. 

“Listen, the long necks didn't exactly teach flirting.” He admits quietly. Loosening his hands and letting your feet reconnect with the floor. 

“I can tell.” You tease, and you see Crosshairs mouth open and close, like it’s searching for words that he doesn't know. 

“I’m sorry.” He settles on, “if I upset you.” You straighten in shock, did he just apologise? Did the sniper of the Bad Batch, known for his assholery just give you an apology? Now that was a win. He pauses for a second before turning away from you. And as if you're possessed by a much more confident version of yourself, your hand grasps his and stops him from leaving. 

“You are so stupid.” You shake your head at him, leaning up onto your toes to fist his blacks and pull him close to you. 

It’s not exactly a romantic kiss, more like a kiss that's been pushed away for so long it’s surfacing with a vengeance. It’s full of yearning and want, and so when Crosshair leans down whispers for you to jump, and all but slams you into the wall again, you happily comply. Legs around his waist and tongues in each other's mouths. 

And then he groans. The bastard has the audacity to groan into your mouth, the sound has you reeling and whining into his. And maker what are you even doing? This is so against every rule in the GAR regulation handbook.    

“Regulations.” You pant as somewhere he moves from your lips to your jaw to your neck.

“I don’t give a damn.” He almost growls into your neck. Especially when your hands anchor themselves in his hair. 

“But…” Your brain tries to think of any reason to not do what you’re doing right now, but it draws a blank. So you let all your responsibilities go to hell as you pull his face back to yours and envelop his lips again.  

“That's so gross.” Tech comments at the view in front of him, having leant out of the doorway to make sure you hadn't killed his vod. And instead getting greeted by what could only be described as the most intense makeout session he’d ever seen. 

“What's gross?” Hunter asked, moving to join him, and before Tech had a chance to want him. “Oh for kriffs sake!” He shouted, throwing his hands in the air at his sniper's actions. 

“I liked it better when they hated each other…” Tech stated a look of disgust on his face. “Hunter?” He asked turning to where his sergeant had been, only to see him sitting back in the briefing room holding his head in his hands and Wrecker having the time of his life laughing it up in the doorway.

“It’s about damn time!” He called loud enough for the two of you to jump apart in surprise. Flushing red as you caught Techs terrified face and Wreckers loud laugh.

“Come on Toothpick, you got a mission to run.” Crosshair said, looking down at you and stealing one last soft kiss before turning back to his brothers. 

Okay so maybe you didn't hate him all that much. 

#clones #the clone wars #clone wars #clone wars oneshot #the clones #the clone wars x reader #the clones x reader #clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #the bad batch #bad batch x reader #bad batch #star wars: the bad batch #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #clone trooper wrecker #sergeant hunter #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper tech

[coldbrewfm]

Gym (A Larina fic)

Relationship: Lana Del Rey/Marina and the Diamonds

Characters: Lana del Rey; Marina and the Diamonds

Rating: T+

Triggers: Has mentions of body issues and depression/suicidal thoughts

A/N: This is very cute, though it does border on serious a bit. I’ve always personally felt like Lana has struggled with depression as well as suicidal thoughts in the past. I feel like these feelings would have bubbled back up in 2016 so she would have done her best to smother them with sleeping, eating and drugs. In this fic, things got better since she began dating Marina. However, Lana started to develop body issues because of letting herself go. Therefore, the fic touches on that as well.

Of course, this is all just a fictitious story so have fun with it if you don’t personally believe what I’m writing.

As always, Chuck and Marina live together with Lana in her house in LA.

Lana doesn’t want to mention that she was depressed before she started dating Marina. She doesn’t want to mention that she slept all day, ate too much and smoked too many cigarettes and joints.

And she certainly doesn’t want to tell her about the passing suicidal thoughts that crossed her mind at times.

Chuck knew these things, so Lana begged her not to tell her them, like how every time Chuck called her, she would either be sleeping or too high to talk.

“And how would I open up that conversation? ‘I know you’re enjoying your breakfast, but by the way Lizzy was suicidal before she started dating you.’ ”

This didn’t faze Lana. “Please don’t tell her at all.”

Chuck crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “She wouldn’t care if you were depressed, she loves you.”

“But I care,” she insisted, “I just don’t want to her to know, okay?”

“You will have to talk to her one day about it.”

Lana sighed, “I know, but I want to wait for that moment to come up.” She looked at her sister with pleading eyes.

Chuck also sighed, but she nodded. “Okay, Liz I won’t tell her.”

When Lana began dating Marina in late 2017, her mood started to improve greatly. Now she had someone to talk (other than her family), even if it was just over the phone at first.

Then Chuck came to live with her in Los Angeles, followed by Marina a month later. That gave Lana something to focus on other than sleeping and pot.

Lana decided that she wanted to improve her lifestyle when Marina came over; the first thing she wanted to do was lose weight.

“I think you’re beautiful, no matter what,” Marina had informed her when Lana brought the subject up, “Don’t lose weight for others, L.”

“I’m not, babe,” replied Lana, “I wanna lose it for myself; there’s a lot of nice clothes I have that I wanna fit back into without it squeezing me.”

This was most of the reason why she wanted to lose weight, but she had another secret motivation. Marina was incredibly fit and Lana yearned just to be as sexy as her girlfriend is. She discerned that she might not become as muscular as the Brit, but she’d wanted to look just as good as her.

It also helped that Marina began cooking for her too; plenty of the American’s vegetarian Greek favorites that were tenfold better than takeaway. She never said no to homemade dolmas, Greek salad or spanakopita.

When the Brit saw that Lana was serious about losing weight, she offered to be something of a personal trainer for her. Marina’s was back in London, but she learned enough to teach the American what she knew.

They went to the gym, a rather small and private one a couple miles from where they lived. At first, Lana liked the idea of going to the gym, especially since she got to see her attractive girlfriend dressed in tight leggings and a tank top. However, the first thing Marina wanted Lana to do was run on the treadmill.

“I don’t want to run,” whined Lana.

“You’re not running, you’ll just be walking fast,” replied Marina.

Lana pouted; couldn’t she just sit and watch her girlfriend workout instead and reward her with a hot makeout session?

“Come now, it’ll be fun,” encouraged the Brit, too cheerful for the American’s taste.

Lana pouted again.

Marina sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright then, how about we make it a bit interesting, yeah? Every five minutes you’re on the treadmill, I’ll kiss for how much time has passed.”

This sounded interested. “In minutes?”

“No, love, just seconds. So five minutes will get you five seconds of kissing and ten minutes will get you ten seconds and so on.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” commented Lana, drily.

“It is if you think about it. At 30 minutes in, we’ll be kissing for 30 seconds and I know you’ll like that.”

Lana mumbled, “I guess.”

Marina smiled slyly. “Also at the end of the whole session, I’ll give you a special reward.”

This perked up Lana. “What kind of reward?”

“Mmm…you’ll have to see after you do the whole sixty minutes,” Marina said, winking at her girlfriend.

Lana sighed, but allowed Marina to lead her over to the treadmill. She hopped on the machine while the Brit adjusted the speed and time.

“Okay, love. Now the machine will beep at every five minutes that had passed. So once it beeps, I’ll come over and give your reward.”

“Alright,” Lana said, although she felt tired already.

Marina noticed her girlfriend’s unhappy expression. “Don’t be so sad, L. I’ll be working out too. Feel free to watch if you’d like.” She winked. “Have fun.”

Lana grumbled an unintelligible response, but decided to do her exercise nonetheless. She plugged in her earbuds into her phone, selected a playlist then pressed the start button on the machine.

The pace wasn’t super fast like she was running a race, but it wasn’t like talking a walk in the park either. It was quite brisk, yet manageable.

She started to keep her eye at the time, however she got bored of that and allowed her eyes to drift to Marina. The Brit had dumbbells, which seemed to be big enough that Lana wouldn’t be able to pick them up without dropping them on her foot. With slow and controlled movement, Marina began to curl her biceps back and forth with the dumbbells. It interested the American to see how her lover’s biceps would pop out as she contracted her muscles and how they would return to normal when she finished the repetition.

The machine beeped loudly at the five-minute mark, breaking Lana out of her staring. She paused the treadmill, pulled one of her earbuds of her ears and motioned for Marina to come over.

“Not too bad, hmm?” Marina inquired as she came over.

“I suppose not,” replied Lana, “Could we kiss now?”

Marina grinned. “So impatient, huh? Alright then—” She programmed the timer on her phone for five seconds. “As soon as our lips touch, I’ll start the timer for five seconds so we keep on schedule.”

The American eyed the phone, feeling that it was going to become an enemy today. Nonetheless, she nodded. It felt so nice to feel her girlfriend’s lips on her’s.

That’s why it felt so sad when the timer went off, barely feeling like any time passed.

“I want more,” Lana groaned as Marina pulled away, “Five more seconds?”

The Brit shook her head, switching the timer for her music. “I’ll see you in another ten to give you more ten seconds, love.” She grinned and returned to her weights. The American grumbled in frustration as she watched her girlfriend pick up her dumbbells and began another exercise.

Although Lana loathed that the Brit was true to her word, she returned to her own music and continued her workout.

At an even sixty minutes, the American had finally completed her exercise. Sweat damped the collar of her loose shirt as well at the small of her back and she felt tired, but she felt happy that she finished it. The machine beeped for the last time and the conveyor belt under her feet stopped moving.

The Brit was also whining down at her workout, finishing her final set of lat pull downs. Lana was a bit transfixed as she observed her girlfriend pull down the bar, seeing the muscle contract in her arms and back. It was oddly relaxing to watch her complete these rhythmic movements with ease and control.

Marina suddenly stood up to guide the weight back on the stack and let go of the bar. The American snaps of her daze, pulling out her earbuds of her ears.

Jesus, it’s so sexy to see Marina after her workout; her face was a bit flushed and Lana could see that sweat collected at her collarbone, her stomach and the center of her back.

“You finished the whole hour! Good job, love,” she congratulated with a sweet smile on her face; “However, we aren’t done yet.”

Lana frowned. “No? What else can we do, M?”

Marina motioned Lana to get off the treadmill. Lana complied and followed Marina back to her lat pulldown machine that she was just on.

“Sit down,” the Brit requested and Lana does so, “Now, how much weight can you do?”

The American shrugged. “How much can you do?”

“One hundred pounds.”

Lana nodded at this. She wanted to impress her girlfriend about how much weight she can lift, despite that she attempted to do a triceps pushdown earlier and couldn’t even do twenty five pounds.

“I think I can do one hundred too.”

“One hundred, huh?” There was a smile in Marina’s voice as she said, “Okay, it’s already at one hundred. Let’s see you pull it down.”

Lana stood up and attempted to pull the bar down. However, she couldn’t even pull it more than a couple inches down because it was just too heavy for her.

“Fuck,” she muttered, letting go of the bar, “Um… let’s try ninety five?” She still wanted to be cool in front of Marina.

The Brit laughed brightly, “You’re so cute.” She kissed Lana on her the side of her temple then adjusted the weight. “How about twenty five? I think that’s more manageable.”

The American’s cheeks flushed blazingly, but Marina just kisses her again. “Grab the bar,” she instructed and Lana obeyed. She stood up again and pulled the bar down, this time coming down much easier as she sat back down.

“Okay, now I want you to ten reps, alright?”

“Okay.” That didn’t sound too bad.

“Before you start, I want you to spread out your grip on the bar.” Lana does so. “And lean back a bit.” Again, she complied.

“Good. Lastly, I want you to pull it to your collarbone area. You shouldn’t hit it directly, ‘cause that’s gonna hurt.”

Lana nodded and does the exercise as she was instructed, counting down in her head. At the fifth rep, she felt the burn in her arms.

At the ninth one, her arms felt tired and she could feel her grip getting shaky. Now, when she gets home she will really want to take a nap. At the final rep, Lana stood up and returned the weight back.

Marina rubbed the back of her shoulder, lovingly. “Nice job, L. Now be ready to do two more sets of ten in a couple days.”

Lana stretched out arms as she got off the machine, enjoying the pulling of her muscles. She felt stronger already, although she’s not sure how she’s gonna feel to do twenty more of these.

“Let’s go home and eat,” Marina suggested, “I’m starving.”

Lana agreed. She chose not to eat anything before they went to the gym as if to give some effort to appear thinner and sexier. It was a poor choice since she was ready to eat anything that came her way and she felt a bit more tired than normal.

The women collected their things and departed the gym, hopping in Lana’s car parked outside. As they head down the street, the American realized she didn’t get the reward Marina had promised her.

“M?” she called. The Brit was looking out the window, gently bobbing her head to the indie rock station that was on.

“Mmmhmm?”

“You didn’t give me my reward after I finished my workout.”

Marina hummed positively. “I know, L, I didn’t forget.”

“Or my sixty second kiss.”

At that, Marina smirked. “Of course, I didn’t forget that either. I’ll give you both rewards when we get home.”

The American nodded, trying her best to focus on the road instead of imaging what reward Marina will give to her. “Okay, babe.”

As soon as they arrived home and after they kicked off their shoes and socks, both women enter the kitchen looking for something to eat after their workout.

Marina goes into the fridge, pulling out some hard boil eggs and two smoothies in glasses. This interested the American quite a bit.

“What is that?” She asked, pointing to the drinks.

“Post work smoothie I made this morning. One for you and for me!” the Brit informed cheerfully, handing her girlfriend one.

Lana took a sip, tasting strawberries and bananas. However, she can also taste the whey protein in it. It’s a bit different than all the smoothies and milkshakes she used to guzzle down after getting high, but she liked it.

Marina handed her one of the eggs. “Good for protein,” she informed Lana, and then she peeled off the shell and took a bite.

“They’re also organic,” the Brit shared through a mouthful of the egg. The American giggled then proceeded to eat the egg too, washing it down with some of her smoothie.

After they both polished off another egg and the rest of their beverages, they headed upstairs to their room to wind down. Lana would like to take a shower before Chuck came home from scouting a new location for a photo shoot so that all three of them could go to a nice dinner, giving Marina the day off from cooking.

However, a nap sounded better than taking a shower, especially since she was snuggled up with her girlfriend on their large, comfortable bed. Maybe a quick one wouldn’t be so bad…

Closing her eyes, Lana could feel her mind starting to relax and her thoughts wander. She pushed her face into Marina’s neck, throwing her arm over her lover’s waist and enjoying the fading scent of perfume on her skin.

She didn’t get far into sleep because the Brit suddenly asked, “Want your kiss?”

Nothing could have made her so lucid so quickly.

“Yes,” the American responded, although her voice was still a bit tired. She sat up, and then looked at her girlfriend expectedly.

Marina laughed lightly, “I’m sure that woke you up! But did the kissing help you get through the hour a little less painfully?”

Lana nodded. “They did.”

The Brit smiled. “You think you’d go back on the treadmill again?”

“Only if you give me more kisses,” replied the American, grinning.

“Ah, but if I’m on the treadmill too? That would be harder to do.”

Lana quickly thought about this and then responded, “Well I guess I wouldn’t go on the treadmill then. I would do the exercises you did instead and then come to you every five minutes.” Marina beamed at this.

“Oh motivation for me then?”

“Yes, the best kind.”

Both women giggled at this and Lana lay back down next to Marina. However, the Brit suddenly sat up, pulling her phone out of the waistband of her leggings.

“Speaking of motivation…” she said, unlocking her phone. Lana watched on, perplexed, until Marina showed her phone with one minute typed into the timer.

“One minute now.”

Secretly, it would give Lana the greatest pleasure to take her girlfriend’s phone and chuck it away. Nonetheless, she ignored her urge and sat back up; she then instructed Marina to lie down on the bed. The Brit complied, putting her phone next to her.

The American straddled Marina’s waist. “Is this okay?” she inquired and her girlfriend nodded.

After getting Marina’s consent, Lana leaned down and kissed her lover, fairly sweetly at first. She felt Marina move her arm to press her phone then felt her hands holding at her hips.

It was very sweet and gentle for the first ten seconds, but it began to taper off into something much more passionate. Hormones began flooding Lana’s mind, easily overpowering her previous sleepy thoughts. Warmth pooled down into her stomach as she started to grind on a bit on Marina’s pelvis.

She pushed her girlfriend’s hands from her hips to her ass, encouraging Marina to squeeze it. Kissing on her mouth didn’t seem to please the American anymore as her mouth trailed down to kissing and lightly sucking her lover’s neck.

When the timer blared next to the women, Lana groaned loudly against Marina’s neck and leaned over to begin tapping on screen aggressively to shut it off.

Marina laughed. “You have to swipe it,” she said.

Lana did so and began to kiss Marina’s neck again; however, Marina told her to stop.

“Time’s up,” she said.

“I want more,” Lana demanded, sitting up. God, she knew her pupils were probably blown and her underwear was soaked. She placed her hands on the Brit’s stomach, her fingers crawling down to the hem of her tanktop.

“I can tell,” Marina noted, amused as she grabbed Lana’s wandering hands, “Before we do anything else, I want to give you your other reward.”

Lust was still burned into her words as Lana said, breathy, “Could we fuck?” Usually she wasn’t this aggressive or this desperate for sex.

However, the Brit was obviously entertained by Lana’s words; she laughed brightly, letting go her lover’s hands to pinch her thigh lightly. “Later on, love,” she assured.

“Right now sounds really good,” encouraged Lana, tone thick, “I’m so fucking wet.” Hormones were still heavy in her brain. “Let me eat you out.”

A huge smirk appeared on Marina’s face as she felt her girlfriend beginning to grind on her pelvis again, obviously trying to relieve some of the pressure she felt. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the gym again, since it obviously made you a little too horny,” the Brit commented, placing her hands on Lana’s hips to prevent her from rubbing her crotch more.

“You made me horny,” Lana said, “You’re so sexy.”

“Same to you,” Marina said, grinning, “I feel turned on too, but I want to give you a massage first.”

That seemed to be something to penetrate the American’s lust-riddled brain. “Is that my reward?” she inquired, her voice a touch more lucid.

Marina nodded. “Yeah, it would be very hard to give it to you at the gym so I wanted to give it to you when we got home. However, I didn’t foresee you getting this…excited.” She smiled. “Would you still like that?”

The American still felt immensely aroused; Marina looked so attractive under her, her cheeks and her neck flushed from Lana’s kissing and biting. However, she recalled how excited and eager she was when her lover mentioned that she would receive another reward. After all, massages can be sexy too and Lana would love Marina’s hands on her.

“Yeah, I do,” agreed Lana, moving off her girlfriend. She laid down on her back and looked at Marina.

The Brit sat up. “Alright then. I should tell you that my personal trainer didn’t give me massages like this. This is purely me wanting an excuse to touch you.” She smirked. “But it seemed like you don’t mind that today.”

The American blushed, but acknowledged it was true. “I don’t think you’ll touch me in the places I want you to right now,” she said.

Marina chuckled, “Those areas aren’t totally ruled out, L. I could add them it.”

Lana hummed positively. “If you touch me there, I think it would turn into something different pretty fast.”

“I’ll give you a happy ending,” teased the Brit, “For free.”

The American shook her head, but smiled sweetly. “What kind of massage do you want to give me?”

“Ah yes, okay then.” Marina got on her knees. “Flip on your stomach.”

Lana does so, but teased brazenly, “You want my ass in the air?” She couldn’t see Marina’s reaction, but she did feel the Brit pinch her ass when she laid down.

“Naughty girl,” Marina said.

By lying on her stomach, Lana could feel the pressure of her body weight on her crotch. She instinctively started to grind against the mattress for some pleasurable friction until she felt Marina grab her hips again.

She tutted, “Wow, you really are horny huh? I feel bad; I might have to help you out after the massage.”

“You can help me out now,” offered the American, boldly.

Marina laughed. “Massage first, help later,” she said, removing her hands.

Lana pouted, burying her face into the pillow. She felt the weight move as her girlfriend moved on top of her, placing her knees on either side of her hips.

“Okay, so to answer your original question, I’m gonna massage your back and your legs.”

Lana moved her face from the pillow to inquire, “Over my clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I didn’t have any?” she asked, now propping herself on her elbows. This time, her question didn’t come from lust; it would be harder for her to get any sort of benefit from the massage from her clothes acting as a boundary.

Marina seemed to consider this as well, humming in thought. “You’re right, L. Did you want to take off your shirt? Or do you want me to just go under it?”

Now, Lana pondered this. If she took off her shirt, it would be much easier for Marina rub her back. She wouldn’t have to take off her shorts since they already were loose and had a good length to them so her girlfriend could massage her thighs easily, if she choose to. However, she would probably get even hornier (if that was even humanly possible) by feeling her chest pressed against the mattress.

She also secretly felt self-conscious about her body. Eating healthy Greek food did help her lose some weight, but Lana was still unhappy with her body. When they would make love, sometimes the American would cover up her chest when she would take off her shirt until her girlfriend persuaded her to move her arms.

Marina started playing with Lana’s hair as she contemplated about what to do. “What would you like to do, Lana?” she finally asked.

“Um…” Her earlier boldness had started to disappear, now replaced with uncertainty at the thought of her body issues. “I guess…I can take off my shirt.” She supposed that it would be alright; Marina would only see her back and her thighs which didn’t look too big today.

“You sure?” her girlfriend asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Her arousal had weakened and her voice sounded clearer.

“Okay,” said Marina, “Do you want to take off your bra too?”

“Yeah, that would be okay.”

The Brit had started to move so the other woman could take off her shirt, but Lana stopped her by suddenly asking, “Can you help me take off my shirt?”

Marina agreed to it; she hooked her fingers under the hem of Lana’s shirt and pulled up on it. The American grabbed the back of the shirt once it was midway up her back and yanked it off her body, then tossed it on the floor. Now she was left in her black sports bra and her shorts as she rested on her elbows.

Lana felt Marina gently touch her back, skimming the exposed skin with her fingertips. This felt nice, particularly when she started to touch her lower back.

The Brit worked her fingers back up to where Lana’s bra was, hooking her fingers around the band. “Do you want me to help you take this off too?” she asked, “Or no? We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”

The American always found it so sweet that Marina was so considerate and respectful about her feelings and boundaries.

Lana nodded. “Yes, you can help me take it off.”

“Alright,” Marina said.

She grabbed the band and gingerly worked it up Lana’s back; again, Lana grabbed it once it was within grasp and tossed it next to her shirt.

The air felt good on her skin, as did Marina’s warm touch on the middle of her back. However, as expected, when Lana relaxed her body against the mattress, she felt her breasts press against the soft sheets. This had sparked a bit of her arousal again. It also didn’t help that Lana became hyper aware that Marina’s crotch was pressing on her ass too.

“Ready for me to start?”

Lana hummed positively, trying her best to ignore a new flood of sexual thoughts enter her mind. She got off her elbows and laid down flat on the bed. The day would have been immensely different if the American had chosen to take a nap instead of getting her one-minute kiss.

Marina put her thumbs on the back of Lana’s neck, exerting light pressure on it. It didn’t hurt at all; she actually enjoyed the gentle pressure she was receiving. The Brit continued the action for a few minutes and then moved down to her girlfriend’s upper back.

Lana wasn’t sure if Marina often gave massages, but nevertheless the American could discern that she was pretty good at them. It was very pleasurable to feel her hands knead the tight spots in Lana’s muscles, trying to work them out. Likewise, Lana enjoyed hearing Marina let out soft, concentrated sounds as she worked.

Again, the Brit moved down to her lower back, pressing with a good amount of pressure. Sleepy thoughts made its return into the American’s head, pushing the lustful ones to the back. She closed her eyes, letting Marina continue her massage.

It was fairly rare to see Lana being so trusting and vulnerable, allowing someone other than her family touch her so intimately. Of course, she’d hug her fans or other celebrities and she would have sex and kiss her previous boyfriends. This was much different though, to be physically intimate without sex being a part of it. She liked it when Marina would play with her hair when they would watch TV or rub her thumb across Lana’s hand when they would talk about their feelings. Likewise, Lana enjoyed giving touch like tickling the Brit until she started laughing or brushing Marina’s hair.

After ten minutes, Marina broke the American out of her sleepy thoughts by requesting Lana’s consent to touch her thighs.

“Mmm…” came the tired reply, “You can do whatever you want, M.”

The Brit giggled, leaning down to kiss Lana between her shoulder blades. “Is that a yes, L?”

Lana nodded, mumbling a soft yeah. Marina removed herself from sitting on the Lana’s backside and moved down to her legs.

“Alright, I’m gonna touch your thighs now,” informed the Brit.

Despite feeling sleepy, Lana couldn’t help but be a bit bold by teasing, “Oh, not my ass?”

The Brit was quick to reply with, “My crotch touched it enough already.” Lana started laughing at that, although it was muffled a bit from the pillow.

“I didn’t complain,” said the American, “I liked it a lot.”

In response to that, Marina decided to be devilish and squeezed Lana’s ass roughly. The American played along with it and moaned loudly.

 “How did you know I liked it rough?” she questioned. Lana started laughing again when she heard Marina sigh at her antics, probably rolling her eyes too.

“I liked it better when you were sleepy,” the Brit mumbled, playfully, “Now let me finish my massage.”

The American relaxed her body again and stopped talking, allowing Marina to focus on her thighs. She started on her left thigh, pressing her thumbs above the knee.

The Brit kneaded up until she got the hem of Lana’s shorts. “Can I touch you under your shorts?” she questioned.

“Yes,” replied Lana.

“If I go too far, just tell me.”

“I will.”

Lana felt her girlfriend’s fingers go up higher on her thigh, pushing and pressing all the way up. Marina stopped an inch at the area where her ass and thigh met and then went back down. She then repeated this on her other thigh.

Both the American’s mind and body felt relaxed under Marina’s touch and a warm feeling spread in her stomach. Although she thought earlier that going to sleep or fucking would be the best, she now realized that her lover giving her a massage was the best choice. Lana was feeling loved and happy, something that never lasted when her high came down from her pot.

“You’re purring,” teased Marina, her voice soft.

“Mmm, I am?” questioned Lana, “I don’t feel like I am.”

The Brit laughed lightly. “Maybe not purring, but you’re making soft sounds as I touch you. Not sexually sounding, but it reminded me of when cats purr when they’re happy.”

“I am happy,” replied the American, even surprising herself with her unprovoked honesty. She’d always hide her true thoughts and feelings from others, but dating Marina had encouraged her to share them.

A soft kiss was placed on the small of her back. “Good, I’m glad,” responded Marina, a smile in her voice, “May I touch your calves?”

Lana nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“After that, we’ll be done,” concluded the Brit, “And then I can give you some ‘help.’” Her smile in her voice quickly changed into a smirk.

The American yawned. “I dunno if I still want that now. Rain check?”

Indeed, Lana acknowledged that barely a half hour ago all what she want was for Marina to fuck her. However, now the only thing on her mind was to cuddle with her girlfriend and relax.

This wasn’t lost on Marina either who started to giggle. “Oh I see. We’ve changed our mind, hmm?”

“Yeah, you have the magic touch,” Lana sighed, “Made me sleepy instead of horny.”

“I’m not sure if that should hurt my ego or boost it,” wondered Marina aloud as she started to rub Lana’s calf.

The American didn’t respond, again enjoying the touch of her girlfriend’s. Sex was totally out of her mind, replaced only with romantic thoughts of kissing and taking a nap with her lover. Maybe when they would wake up, they could make love instead of having the steamy hot sex the American craved earlier.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Marina removed her hands from Lana’s legs, indicating the end of the massage. The Brit crawled next to the American, lying back down on the bed.

Lana reluctantly flipped over so she could face her girlfriend, feeling so relaxed and peaceful she didn’t even try to cover her torso up like she usually does. Her mind was still a bit hazy, but she felt immensely comfortable in Marina’s presence.

“I suppose it’s time for a nap,” Marina said softly, gingerly stroking Lana’s cheek.

Lana nodded, shutting her eyes. She tucked her head into her girlfriend’s neck as she did earlier, feeling safe and secure.

However, she didn’t fall asleep right away as she recalled that Marina mentioning that she felt aroused. It would be rude for Lana to only think about her own feelings, especially since her girlfriend paid a lot of attention to her.

“M?” she called, moving her head to look at her lover.

“Yes, love?” answered Marina as she started to stroke Lana’s hair.

“You said you were turned on earlier, did you want me to help you out?”

Marina hummed, now wrapping her arms around Lana’s torso. “I’m not turned on so much anymore,” she shared, “I was when I got on top you, feeling my crotch pushed against your ass. I really wanted to grind against it like how you did when you were on top of me.” She smirked, which made Lana blushed. “But when I started to give you a massage, it started to go away. I lost interest like how you did.”

“You have the magic touch for yourself as well,” Lana commented, smiling a bit.

“Mmm...I suppose so,” mumbled the Brit, closing her eyes, “A little tired too.”

Marina looked so cute, ready to fall asleep. Love stirred deeply in the American’s chest as she observed Marina’s breathing starting to even out.

Lana felt happy that her lover could feel just as comfortable in her company to doze off without hesitation. She gave the Brit a kiss on her chin and then put her head in the crook of her neck, closing her eyes too.

The American couldn’t remember that last time she took a nap that wasn’t a product of exhaustion or from coming down a bad high. She also couldn’t remember when she took a nap with someone so close to her, making her feel safe. The pressure she felt from Marina’s hug was comforting and welcoming, something that eased her mind.

The thoughts of today floated in her mind until she quietly dropped off into sleep, feeling satisfied where her life was.

#Larina #Lana Del Rey/Marina and the Diamonds #lana del rey #lizzy grant #marina and the diamonds #Marina Diamandis #fanfiction #tw: body issues #tw: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts #if you read the tags #then you get to know its my birthday today #on June 18th

[flowercrowngods]

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s; threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever.

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous.

It’s ridiculous and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things.

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

high yearning makeout fic, coming soon…

#they’re so in love your honour. so in love in fact it gets a little scary if you look at it too long. and still they can’t look away. #steddie fic #steddie #high yearning makeout fic

[phirephox666]

Weekly Fic Recs - FMA

After doing these recs for a couple weeks I figure I have enough recs to do that I can do these bi-weekly for a bit, so! Bi-weekly fic recs commence! This Wednesday’s fics are FMA, a whole bunch of Ed/Roy, mostly. Enjoy y’all.  

Weekly Rec Lists 

i'm giving you a nightcall by clairedearing

Edward/Roy, Alphonse/Winry, Reincarnation Au, Modern Au, Superhero Au, Complete, 124k

Edward Elric (the second) has always had to balance the two sides of his life; on one proper flesh and blood hand, he's a genius working as a crime scene investigator, putting his younger brother through university. On the other not-actually-flesh-and-blood hand, he's also the red-hooded vigilante Fullmetal, protecting Central City from criminals and assholes like 'the Dragon'. But mutilated bodies have stared showing up, and now he has to deal with his estranged sorta-maybe-ex-boyfriend (who's in charge of hunting down Ed's alternate persona), keeping the public from various levels of hysteria, and stopping a mysterious group who seem to be echoing the one his mother used to belong to...

the catwoman to your batman by clairedearing

Edward/Roy, Vigilante Au, Complete, 6k

Ed had his mission - to escort the Ishvallan refugees to the camps. Then he could get back to his research. Except, a mysterious masked man keeps screwing everything up.

Diplomatic Excursions and Other Ways to Die by Tierfal

Edward/Roy, Post Canon Au, Complete, 53k

Conceptually, attending Emperor Ling's coronation celebration is simple enough. In practice, it involves far too much trekking, yearning, bleeding, burning, hoping, running, and dodging of diplomatic catastrophes for Roy's tastes.

Catalysis by aventria, iluxia

Edward/Roy, Edward & Roy, Edward & Maes, Edward & Alphonse, Trisha Lives Au, Fix It, Friendship/Gen, Families of Choice, Backstory, Worldbuilding, WIP, 210k

Work in progress. "Search for the value of that which you seek, for alchemy already knows." Alchemy knew what Edward wanted when his fingertips touched that circle, but Edward did not yet understand how value differs from price, how equivalent differs from equal. The Gate calculates with one small difference, and Trisha Elric lives - but the cost may be too high for Edward to afford.

[ In which Edward Elric becomes Roy Mustang's ward in a different context; Trisha Elric is alive but is as good as dead to her sons; Alphonse Elric grows in a human body under Izumi's tutelage, struggling to understand just what it is they have done right; Hohenheim's past is more complicated and intertwined with the tapestry of Amestrian history; Envy dances a very fine line between his loyalty to Father and a growing obsession/addiction; and Amestris is so not ready for this bloody revolution. ]

Part 1 of Catalysis 'verse

Button Up Your Overcoat by Skinner (psiten)

Edward/Roy, Edward & Alphonse, Edward & Team Mustang, Fix It, Friendship/Gen, Bamf Riza, Complete, 140k

Ed could untie knots in the fifth and sixth dimensions -- blindfolded. He could convince the military he fell through a rabbit-hole, and he could even shut down a Drachman invasion (with a little help), but he can't seem to avoid dating Roy Mustang (and maybe is kind of okay with that). But here's hoping they can collar a General trying to trigger a three-way war, and that they can stop him before he destroys the world.

Making himself walk instead of run took every ounce of composure he had, especially when he got far enough to see the city blanketed in a strange layer of dust and dark thunderclouds. The weather had been clear for miles around. Those clouds had the smack of weather alchemy about them.

He had to find his brother.

The Universe Just Doesn't Know What the Hell to Make of Edward Elric by queerstang (rosethomass)

Edward/Roy, Soulmate Au, Soulmate Marks, Complete, 5k

Everyone Edward's age gets their tattoos, gets to know who their soulmate is, and it's just one more thing to remind Edward of all the things he's lost and never got to have.

Major spoilers for Brotherhood.

Two Months and Counting by Tierfal

Edward/Roy, Harry Potter Au, Magical Au, Worldbuilding, Complete, 4.4k

Given that Ed is past words and beyond belief, surely it's fair to break the rules right in half.

[Vague situational spoilers for '03/CoS.]

Part 1 of Bending the Rules

The Maestros of Misuse by Tierfal

Edward/Roy, Harry Potter Au, Magical Au, Fluff, Complete, 6.7k

Ed spends a day with the Improper Use of Magic Office, and no one loses their mind more than a little.

[Vague situational spoilers for '03/CoS.]

Part 2 of Bending the Rules

The Twelfth Cup of Coffee by Tierfal

Edward/Roy, Coffee Shop Au, Modern Au, Mundane Au, Complete, 44k

The thing with Roy is founded on coffee snobbery and stupid text messages and seriously awesome makeout sessions in the car. Oh, and the love of a lifetime, or whatever.

From the Worst of Times by Batsutousai

Edward/Roy, Edward & Roy, Edward & Team Mustang, Roy & Team Mustang, Bamf Roy, Bamf Ed, Complete, 38k

"From the worst of times," someone had once told a young Roy Mustang, "always come the greatest of gifts." There were times in his life that was all he had to cling to, but it always seemed to hold true, one way or the other.

This Lion is in the Garden by Xyriath

Edward/Ling, Xerxian Ed, Royalty Au, Arranged Marriage, Complete, 26k

Ed’s duties as a prince of Xerxes right now really aren’t that complicated. Establish favorable relations with the nation of Xing. Learn to get along with his betrothed. Don’t offend anyone. Especially don’t offend anyone. What he didn’t predict was getting along with his fiancé perhaps a little too well.

Son of the Desert by ShanaStoryteller

Edward/Roy, Edward & Alphonse,Trisha/Hohenheim, Ishvalan Ed, Ishvalan Al, Friendship/Gen, Bamf Ed, Backstory, Worldbuilding, Complete, 10k

Every time Edward sees the circle on the back Mustang's hand, he wants to scream, wants to reach across the desk and shake him, wants to wrap his hands around the older man's throat and ask if it was worth it, if this desk and his rank is worth the screaming, crying, writhing, burning bodies of his people -

"Something to say, Fullmetal?" Mustang drawls.

Edward snaps the file shut, "Nope."

Part 1 of Ishvalan AU

Sins of the Father by ShanaStoryteller

Trisha/Hohenheim, Hohenheim & Edward, Hohenheim & Alphonse, Edward/Roy, Ishvalan Ed, Ishvalan Al,  Friendship Gen, Worldbuilding, Feelings, Complete, 8k

Hohenheim has been gone for fifteen years. It's time for him to go home - his wife is waiting for him.

Dreaming in Red and Gold by Batsutousai

Edward/Roy, Post Canon Au, Complete, 96k

When Drachma agrees to meet for peace talks at Briggs Fortress, General Roy Mustang is the one sent to represent Amestris. It just so happens that the Drachmans have their own Amestrisan, who is far too skilled at turning the most tedious of discussions into an exciting time.

But Not Buried This Time by Tierfal

Edward/Roy, Post Canon Au, Bamf Ed, Complete, 95k

Once Ed decides that he is categorically not going to rot on the Drachman tundra, dragging his ass out of the jaws of death is actually pretty easy.  ...except when it's not.  At all.  Which is most of the time.

(AU from end of Brotherhood.)

Come What May by Batsutousai

Darius/Heinkel/Edward, Edward & Roy, Edward/Roy, Friendship/Gen, Families of Choice, Post Canon Au, Bamf Ed, Military Au, Complete, 

After the Promised Day, with his alchemy still intact thanks to Hohenheim's sacrifice, Ed finds himself and his chimera team getting dragged into the shadowy world of military secrets in an attempt to keep Bradley's legacy from causing a civil war.

Part 1 of Our Sinner's Redemption

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai

Edward/Roy, Edward & Roy, Edward & Alphonse, Edward & Maes, Friendship/Gen, Mute Edward, Bamf Ed, Bamf Al, Time Travel, Fix It, Complete, 289k

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

a terrifying clamour of trumpets by ShanaStoryteller

Edward & Alphonse, Edward/Roy, Edward & Izumi, Bamf Ed, Fix It, Complete, 12k

Edward grabs Marcoh’s arm and says, “That stone – what can it heal, exactly?”

The old man’s eyebrows rise to his forehead, and he looks like he already knows the answer when he goes, “Why do you ask, Edward?”

There's no metallic footsteps so there’s no way Al’s close enough to hear them. “I’m sick,” he admits after another moment of deliberation.

Accidents Happen by metisket

Edward & Alphonse, Edward & Harry Dresden, Alphonse & Harry Dresden, Crossover, Crack, Friendship/Gen, Complete, 14k

It’s not so much the strange children falling from the sky that are worrying Harry. It’s more that the children don’t seem to think the situation is all that weird.

“No matter where I go,” Ed said thoughtfully, “there’s a goddamn pyromaniac there waiting for me.”

Repaire du Diable by Batsutousai

Darius/Heinkel/Edward, Edward & Alphonse, Post Canon Au, Complete, 9k

Ed and Al weren't the sort to settle down, despite their best intentions, so they travel, eventually finding Noah again, this time working with a circus that has its share of familiar faces, but also some new ones. Can the Elrics finally find people to settle down with?

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fma fic #edward elric #roy mustang #alphonse elric #maes hughes #roy/ed #fic rec #weekly rec lists #rec lists

[flowercrowngods]

Saw the overwhelming majority voting for “who did this to you part 4”, so how about a snippet from the high yearning fic? ☺️

thank you my love 🥰🤍 i’m holding you endlessly 🫶

Turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right?

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face.

A face that shouldn’t look so sad.

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve.

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself.

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t—

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch.

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened.

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.”

Eddie catches his breath and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone.

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin.

God, he’s so hopeless.

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now.

want me to write more? make me 😌

#high yearning makeout fic #titling this thing will be so fun lmao anyway eddie is down bad and they’re both yearning and traumatised #make me write ask game #steddie #steddie fic #this has too much buildup again but i need yall to know how gone they are for each other

[flowercrowngods]

i also would like to see some of the high yearning make out bc like,,, i want that (@a-little-unsteddie)

again, thank you for the ask and most importantly: thank you for the wait as i slowly wade my way through the brain fog day after blurry, blurry day 🥰🤍

high yearning makeout fic (as prompted by @izzy2210 with prior snippet here)

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice.

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it.

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again.

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there.

#steddie fic #steddie #make me write ask game #high yearning makeout fic #there’s no high or makeout yet but there is yearning!! though more like dramatic pining #but it’s kinda at 1.7k and uhmmm

[flowercrowngods]

tagged by @izzy2210 in the last line tag game

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (for any work of fiction) and tag as many people as there are words

fun fact: izzy hates me because i’m a wordy fucking bitch 🤡

They laugh when their lips meet next, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and nipping and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other.

(current last line from the high yearning makeout fic)

tagging: (not 26 fuckin people) @sharpbutsoft @hotluncheddie @nburkhardt @aringofsalt @thefreakandthehair @henderdads @rozzieroos @momotonescreaming @waywaychuck @aphroditestummyrolls @a-little-unsteddie @puppy-steve and really whoever wants to share their last line (pls tag me so i can see and scream at you!)

#tag games #steddie #uhmmm the high yearning makeout fic is almost at 7k and will likely be posted today but also it’s all over the place hdhdhd oh well

[flowercrowngods]

🌷 make me write/wip wednesday 🌷

i’m a little trapped in my head right now so i’ll appreciate all the asks to make me write 🫶

🤍the rules:

vote for the wip you want me to write

send me an ask (anon or not) that i need to answer with a snippet for your choice that has to contain at least as many words as there are votes in the poll

multiple asks are welcome and encouraged 🫶 (i really need to get out of my head)

🤍the wips:

🌷 who did this to you pt. 4 // tales of blue

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on ao3

post-s3/pre-s4, eddie finds steve at the boathouse badly injured and barely conscious and takes him to wayne (steve&robin&eddie incoming)

🌷 time loop demogorgon steve

based on this post by @rogueddie and my tag rambles

🌷 high yearning makeout fic

based on this ask by @izzy2210

The older kids getting high together! Steve and Eddie start the evening off a bit distant, Eddie's maybe a bit shy because of his crush on Steve, but they end up high all over each other making out (and probably more..)

🌷 sub!kas!eddie

exhibit a || based on an anon

Kas!Eddie where Steve uses positive reinforcement to help him feel like less of a monster. As Eddie becomes more human, the rewards get steamier.

(if you see a wip of mine not listed here but you’d still like some more words on it, just ask nicely 🫶)

tagging: no, but please join me and pretend i tagged you if you wanna, idk who does these anymore 🫶 (also shoutout to @sharpbutsoft for your last wip weekend)

#i know there’s so many events going on and yall have an excess of reading material but idk if you’re so inclined pls make me write 🫶 #steddie #make me write ask game #make me write #there’s also bardknight and captain steve and spooky lighthouse and time travel au but hmm i’d like to focus on these