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flowrmoth · 2 months

Text

...and then what happened? pt. 2

Synopsis: ellie helps you get ready for another date, but you unexpectedly come back to her apartment a bit earlier than planned...

AN: i have no words for this, just enjoy. i got a little too carried away. hope i did it justice. (i don't know how to write smut all that well lol), also can we agree that ellie definitely whines and whimpers in bed? thanks

WC: 6.6k (jesus)

Warnings: mdni!!! smut!!!, pining, kissing, oral (r!receiving), masturbation, finger sucking, lowk loser!ellie who still gets bitches even if she doesn't do anything, lowk perv!ellie, fem!reader, ellie being sooo desperate for u she cant help herself, seriously the girl is pathetic, no use of Y/N or readers appearance

Part 1: HERE

DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE

WHY YOU SHOULDN'T BUY TLOU2

READ THIS

Faded red and purple.

Those are the colors Ellie is looking at currently while examining her neck in the mirror. She's looking at the hickey closely, touching and feeling it with her fingers, the colors of it not as vibrant as they were that Saturday night.

The night that Ellie remembers, oh so well. The night that has been on replay in her mind for the past week and a half, haunting her every second of the day. It plays like a movie, over and over, until she runs out of new details to remark. She flips the images of you like a book, mesmerized by the way your body felt on hers. She remembers your skin like she remembers a painting, so soft, so warm, so inviting.

She wishes for nothing more than to touch you like that again, but she can't.

Because you're going on another date tonight.

Ellie drops her hand from her neck and shuts her eyes, head dropping low. She looks at her hands, gripping the white marble of her bathroom sink until her own knuckles turned the same color.

Why can't she get over it, like she does with other girls? Why does it have to be so hard with you?

She knew she was fucked from the moment her eyes landed on you a year and some months ago, while attending Dinas party. The way you strutted in, all smiles and pearly whites, extending your pretty hand to greet hers. Dina had warned Ellie not to mess with you, for Ellie had 'ruined' a handful of friendships between Dina and her friends who couldn't help but fall for the brunette girl, even if it wasn't her intention.

Ellie at the time, scoffed at this, treating it like a joke, but she soon saw how unbelievably difficult it was to not look at you that way.

She swears that she tried so hard not to hang around you, avoiding you like the plague. Every time Dina or Jesse would invite her to come out she would make up some type of excuse that would rid her of her friends.

"Ellieee, pleaseee! We haven't seen you in so long! Don't be a party pooper or I'll come there and take your stash and smoke it all." Dina pleaded with a whiny voice on the phone for the 10th what time.

"Oh my god, okay, who's coming?" Ellie rolled her eyes at this, anticipating Dina's answer.

"Yes, Jesus, finally you're getting your ass out of that bed! Uh, it's gonna be me, Jesse, Tyler..." she continued on until Ellie heard your name fall from Dinas lips. Her breath hitched in her throat as her heart danced in her chest.

"D, wait! I'm sorry! I just remembered, I have a physics assignment for tomorrow. I... I swear I'll make it up to you! Also, I do other shit than lay in b-" Ellie had to think quick and uni assignments always worked for these type of situations.

"I can't believe you. You owe me big time, Williams! I better have three blunts rolled by tomorrow! Be ready, bitch." and with that Dina hung up the call while Ellie sighed out a shaky breath of relief.

That's how it always went back then, they would call and Ellie would say no, she can't, she's busy.

But she couldn't keep at it for too long, you were becoming incredibly close with Dina and Jesse and Ellie knew she had to face you eventually. So, she started going out, and every time, her heart would flutter when she saw you. Her excuses were long gone and gradually, she tried to make time to see you as much as possible. You were, of course, just as eager to see her, finding her incredibly cool and funny, not to mention good looking.

Pretty soon you were inseparable, and nowadays Ellie finds herself waiting for your texts about your weekly sleepovers or a game of pool at your local bar.

Ellie steps away from her sink, wiping her hands on her grey sweatpants. Her gaze once again falls on her puzzled expression. She tries not to think about your date tonight, but so far she's been failing miserably.

Fuck my life, she thinks.

She gets out of the bathroom and heads towards her couch, wanting nothing more than to put on a dinosaur movie and smoke away her feelings. She plops down on the cushions and searches for the missing TV remote. Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie sees her phone on the coffee table light up and your name and picture flash on the cracked screen. She nervously reaches over and clears her throat before answering the call.

"Uhm, yeah? What's up?" Ellie cringes at the sound of her raspy voice, these being the first words she had spoken today.

"Ellie! Where are you? I've called you, like, 5 times already. Are you home? I need help getting ready and my roommate brought her boyfriend over and, ugh, I just can't deal with that. Can I come over?" you ramble, obviously in a rush since it was already 5 PM and your date started at 8.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm home. Come over!" Ellie said rather enthusiastically, much to her dismay. She shuts her eyes in embarrassment.

"Great! You're a life saver, love you! Be there in 15." you say happily and end the call.

Love you!

The words you uttered so nonchalantly hung in the air while Ellie tried not to take them to heart. She puts the phone back on the table and looks around.

Fuck, she had to clean up the place at least.

Ellie frantically got up and started moving things around, putting them back in their designated places. Food delivery bags, sweets and cigarette butts were all over the place. When she was satisfied, she figured she should change into something... better smelling than she had on currently. Ellie hadn't left the house in, at least, 2 days, not having the energy to interact with people. She spent them catching up on homework and watching movies. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't because of your newfound crush, but that meant she would be lying to herself.

Ellie threw the shirt she had on into the hamper and put on a fresh band T. She changed her sweats into a pair of grey shorts and put on some citrusy deodorant, maybe even spraying some into the living room to freshen it up. She quickly brushed her teeth and messed with her hair.

By the time she was done, you were already knocking on her door. Ellie looked at herself in the mirror one last time before deciding that she looked decent enough and opening the door for you to come in.

As always, you give her a big, warm smile and throw your hands around her neck, giving her a hug. It took Ellie a second to respond but she returns your hug with a light squeeze.

"Hey, you." she rasped into your hair, inhaling your coconut shampoo.

"Hey, Els! Hope you don't mind me being here. You know how Alex gets when her boyfriend comes around, I just can't." you say while rolling your eyes. You kick off your shoes and scan the room, heading towards Ellies couch and putting down your big bag.

"Yeah, I get it. Like when Dina and Jesse can't keep their hands off each other. Yuck." Ellie laughs, moving to sit down next to you.

"Exactly!" you start shuffling through your blue duffle, pulling out some clothes and a big, glittery makeup bag. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom? I need to do my makeup perfectly and the lighting is so good there." you ask Ellie with pleading eyes and a smirk, which she simply couldn't say no to.

"Of course, you don't even have to ask." Ellie throws you a lazy smile.

"Thank you!" you tell her excitedly, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. You get up with all of your stuff and stride towards the bathroom.

Ellie feels her cheeks getting warmer and redder. She gets up and follows you, "So, uh, are you excited to see, uh... her?" she utters with a nervous laugh, already forgetting your dates name even if you reminded her a million times. She leans on the doorframe of the bathroom and crosses her muscly arms.

"Yeah, I am excited to see 'her'." you look at Ellie through the mirror and put up quotations marks, like you're mocking her obvious bad memory with names. She rolls her eyes. "Sorry I forgot her name, jeez."

I don't care what her name is, she wants to say.

"It's Sophia, for the 100th time. We're going out to this sushi place, I heard its really good! I also heard that its really fancy, so I really have to up my game." you laugh, putting your hair up and examining your face.

Ellies face contorts at this and she can't help but let out a scoff, "I thought you hated sushi? Fish in general? What the hell are you gonna eat?" she asks you with furrowed brows.

"I mean, yeah, its not my favorite but I can try it. Maybe this time it'll be good!" you try to sound enthousiastic, but Ellie was right, you've always hated fish and everyone knew that.

"Why is she taking you there if you can't eat anything on the menu? Did she even ask you what you like? Remember when we went to Jesses place and you tried that fried fish he cooked and threw up?" Ellie starts questioning you, her tone dripping with jealousy. She looks at your face in the mirror and manages to catch your worried eyes, just for a flash.

"Ellie, its fine. She insisted we go there, so I didn't complain. I'll try some and if I don't like it, I'll just get a drink. That's all. Now, let me do my makeup in peace, dummy!" you usher her out, getting slightly annoyed because she was right, but you still wanted to make it work with this girl so you didn't say anything when she suggested you go to this restaurant.

Ellie simply can't believe you're going out with someone who doesn't even know you that well. You're pretty vocal about your likes and dislikes, so either this Sophia isn't listening to you or she doesn't care.

The fuck does she have that I don't? I would treat you better.

With an annoyance in her step Ellie, once again, lays down on her coffee colored sofa and opens up TikTok, mindlessly scrolling while waiting for you to finish getting ready. After a while of watching dog videos and replying to Joel's unreadable texts and his wrong use emojis, Ellie decides that rolling a blunt for when you leave is a great idea. She definitely need to get her mind off of things.

After what seemed like an hour, you come out of the bathroom. Your hips sway as the black bodycon dress you picked hugs you in all the right places, your hair frames your face like its a masterpiece and the makeup you did enhances your features perfectly. Your hands are behind your back as you make your way to the living room.

"Els, need your help with something." you say shyly, while turning your rear side to the girl.

She looks up from the table and her eyes land on your bare back. Your black, lacy bra sticking out from underneath the dress. Her gaze widens and her breath stops for a second. She wonders if you have matching panties on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Can't reach the zipper. Will you zip me up?" you giggle while trying to zip up the dress, but fail miserably instead.

Ellie swallows the lump that formed in her throat and gets up from the couch. "Y-yeah, of course." She says in a hushed voice.

You relax your shoulders as her own tense up. Her long fingers move towards the zipper that sits on the small of your back. One of her hands finds its way to the black zipper, while the other rests on your upper arm. Carefully, she picks up the small bead and starts moving it up you back.

You feel Ellies breath fan against you, her body heat radiating off of her. She's so close that she could see every damn freckle and baby hair on your neck, and that's precisely where she would plant a kiss right now if she could. The dip of your shoulders and collarbones were driving her crazy. She tried to drag the drop as slow as she could, just so she could stare at your curves longer.

One of the straps of your dress slip down, and Ellie picks it up and places it back. Her fingers graze your trap and it feels like fire. She sneakily caresses the spot before returning to her task.

"There, all, uh, all done." Ellie smooths down the dress slowly, picking off any lint that stuck to the soft fabric. She rests her hands on your hips, just for a second. Just to see what it feels like. You turn around with a smile and thank her. Ellie lets go of you and scratches her ear while her eyes linger on your body.

Don't be a creep, Ellie. Don't look at her chest. Don't.

You put your stuff back into the bag your brought over and take out the black open-toed heels you bought last week. Sitting down on Ellies sofa, you strap them on and get up to see how they feel. Ellies eyes never leave you.

"So, what do ya think? I look okay?" you question Ellie, swaying over to the body length mirror that hangs in the hallway. You do a turn and send Ellie a killer smile, like you're posing for a photo. Ellie thinks she's gonna explode.

"You look fucking- great, fuck. Of course you look good." Ellie shakes her head as if you asked her the most ridiculous question to exist. She leans back on the couch and observes you as you examine your face.

She imagines that you're getting ready for a date with her. Imagines giving you a kiss on the neck and planting her hands around your waist while you giggle at her and snap a photo of you two in the mirror.

"Okay, and what do you think 'bout this perfume?" now you were getting nervous, the time to leave for the date coming closer. You march over to her, heels clicking on the wooden floor. You lean down, pushing your neck into Ellies face so she could sniff you better.

You catch Ellie by surprise as she steadies herself. Her nose and lips nervously brush over your neck, just behind your ear. She takes a long inhale and closes her eyes, you signature scent filing up her senses. Your hair tickles her face.

"Smells good. As always." Ellie states quietly, not moving from the warmth of your neck. She wishes she could stay there.

"Thanks, Williams. I have to go, I'm gonna be late. So, uh, I'll let you know how the date went! You have my location if anything happens, yeah? Lock the door behind me." you put on your coat and bag and strut to the door.

"Wait, she's not picking you up?" Ellie hurriedly follows behind you. The fuck?

"Uh, no. Something's up with her car or... I don't know. I'm just gonna walk!" you say, not looking forward to the death of your feet.

"Jesus," she mutters "do you want me to drive you? It's cool." Ellies already picking up her car keys but you stop her.

You put your hand on her bicep, giving her a reassuring squeeze "Ellie, it's fine. I don't mind walking! I love walking, in fact! Don't stay up late, okay? Bye, Els!" you retort, you don't want to be a bother. Besides, walking is healthy. At least you'll get your steps in and the restaurant is 15 minutes away.

Ellie rolls her eyes, but she can't even say a comeback since you're already clacking away. She almost forgets to lock the door.

She drags her feet back to where she was sitting and finishes rolling her joint, the TV in the background playing a random movie. Ellie lights up the spliff and leans back, putting her feet up on the living room table. Finally she can relax and turn her mind off.

The clock showed 12 AM and Ellie was fast asleep right where she sat. The spliff she smoked turned into ash and the movie she was watching ended a long time ago. The sound of her phone ringing jolted her awake, the ring tone she put specifically for you blaring loudly.

She quickly picks up the phone "Hey? Is everything okay?" Ellie muttered, still half asleep with closed lids.

"Hey, um, Ellie? Can I come over?" you slur your words slightly. Are you drunk? You sounded rushed and winded.

"Of course, angel, where are you? Should I pick you up? Are you okay?" Ellie asks in a panic, now wide awake. She didn't even notice the way her nickname for you slipped out.

"Yeah, everything's fine, just need to, uh, see you." you sniffle "I'm gonna be up in a sec." you tell her and hang up the call.

Ellie rushes to the door to unlock it and sees your fallen face. She stands to the side and lets you in as you take off your heels and fall face first into the cream cushions.

"What happened?" Ellie asks as she sits down next to you, placing a careful hand on your back.

"Nothing, I just... It was so weird. Everything was okay at first, we were drinking and laughing, and then we went back to her place and she was acting strange and kinda like an asshole, so I left. The sushi was shit, by the way." you chuckle, wiping the one tear that slipped from your eye.

Ellie had a concerned look on her face as she opened up her arms, inviting you for a hug. "Come here." You place your head on her warm chest and close your eyes, humming contently. "I didn't know where to go and you were so close, so yeah. Sorry if I woke you up, though." you whisper into her.

"It's okay, just glad that you're okay. Wanna take a shower? You can sleep here if you want." Ellie smiles at you while wiping smudged mascara from your cheek. Your painted lips tug into a smile and Ellie wonders how that shade of pink would look on her.

"Yes, please." you mutter softly and let go of her body.

Ellie gets up and swiftly makes her way to her bedroom. She rummages through her messy closet until she finds a pair of grey boxers, some socks, a t-shirt and a towel. Jesus Christ, I need to clean more often.

"Here you go." she hands you the clean clothes.

"Thanks, Els. I don't know what I would do without you." you smile at her hazily, your eyes having this sort of gloss over them, like the one Ellie saw that night. You make your way to the bathroom and close the door. She hears the water turn on and the sound of the shower curtains rustling.

Don't imagine her naked, you idiot.

Ellie lets out a sigh she didn't know she was holding as she settles into the daybed comfortably.

You finish your shower and plop down next to Ellie. The smell of her pine-like shampoo fills her nose. The thought of you showering with her stuff and using her towel and sleeping in her clothes makes her head dizzy with the sheer domesticity she so badly yearns for.

Ellies sprawled out in a laying position, one hand under her head while the other plays around with the TV remote. You wrap your arms around Ellies tattooed one, leaning your head on her shoulder. One of your legs rests on top of hers, hiking up your her boxers in the process.

Fuck.

Ellie can't help but gaze down at your body, the way her bottoms hug your thighs and how her shirt looks so fucking good on you. To say that you look hot would be an understatement. She knew she looked stiff as fuck but she didn't dare move a muscle. Ellie feared that even a slight movement would cause you to detach from her, so she stayed still.

"You okay, El?" you ask as you notice the change in her demeaner, shifting your stare to the side of her face. Even though the only light was coming from the TV, you could still se the slight nervousness that was present on the girls face.

Ellie snaps her head towards you and clears her throat "What? Yeah, angel. I'm fine, sorry. Just watching the show." she sends a smile your way as her eyes focus on the TV, your own burning a hole in the side of Ellies neck.

She puts a daring tattooed hand atop your thigh in a reassuring matter. You hum against her and turn your attention back to the documentary that was playing.

Ellies feels her heart palpate and she wonders how far the nearest hospital is from her apartment.

You lay like that for a while, comfort and warmth surrounding your tangled bodies. You didn't move and Ellie took that as a sign that her clammy hand on your thigh didn't present itself as a problem.

Ellie thought she was dreaming.

Out of nowhere you let out a chuckle, obviously remembering something funny. "What is it?" Ellie asks you.

"Nothing I just- nothing, doesn't matter." a giggle escapes your lips as you nuzzle closer to Ellies body.

"Weirdo." Ellie jokes with a squeeze to your leg.

After a 2 minute silence, you whisper something that sends Ellie into orbit "I didn't even come..."

What the fuck?

Did she heart that right?

Ellies body hardens as she questions. "Come- come where?" the embarrassing ask leaves her mouth before she can even think about what you meant. You laugh at her confused tone.

"No, Els, I mean, like, I didn't even come when I was with her." you hide your face in your palm and whisper the 'come' part, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you even admitted something like this to your friend. Ellie understands.

Oh my god.

The brunette thinks she might just die right here. You almost never talk about sex. I mean, here and there of course, but never intimately like this. You both knew more about Dinas and Jesses sex like than yours, everything you found out against your will. Ellie didn't even know if she wanted to hear about your love endeavours, she didn't know if she could handle the sheer thought of someone else's naming dripping from your lips in that way.

But this, this intrigued her as she continued to ask.

"What do you mean?" Ellie tries not to prod to much, still acting dumb.

"I mean, we were going at it but after she was done, that was it. She left me high and dry. She didn't even give me aftercare, she just went on her phone." you laugh feeling more comfortable to tell the story "That's why I left. I felt embarrassed."

This fucking bitch. she thinks about the girl. She couldn't comprehend what you were telling her. Someone was having sex with you? And you didn't finish? That wasn't their priority?

Ellie can't help but let out a scoff as her mouth hangs open with disbelief.

I would never fucking do that.

"Do what?" you question her, giving her a puzzled look.

Shit, did she say that out loud?

"I- I mean, I would never just leave a girl hanging like that. Making a girl finish is sometimes better than sex itself, shit." Ellie lets out a mocking laugh, the weed that still buzzed in her giving her confidence. This made your stomach swirl in a way that was all to familiar, the thought of Ellie in compromising positions.

"Don't feel embarrassed, she's a fucking idiot. Doesn't deserve you." her grip on your thigh hardens and you would be lying if you said that it didn't have any effect on you. Ellie wasn't the only one still drunk on substances, the alcohol you had earlier still present in your body.

"Yeah, you're right." you mutter out, hiking your leg upwards, your knee nearing Ellies crotch. This doesn't go unnoticed by the brunette.

"Of course I fucking am." she says like its fact, her eyes darting between your knee and the TV.

The comforting silence returns and soon enough Ellie puts on a TV show you both love, but you couldn't focus on anything but her body underneath yours. Its not like you didn't think about Ellie. Of course you did. Every fucking gay girl with eyes saw how attractive Ellie was. Her eyes, her crooked smile and that fucking tattoo that adorned her forearm were enough to make a girls knees weak. Dina had subtly mentioned how Ellie was a bit of a player, so you didn't wanna indulge in her games. As you grew closer to her, you saw how sweet she actually was. Yeah, she could be an ass sometimes, but that was just Ellie. You saw right through her hard exterior and discovered her nerdy and warm side. Still, you didn't want to compromise your friendship with her or Dina, so you just moved on.

You move your head to rest in the crook of Ellies neck, feeling her pulse quicken at the action. Racy thoughts were swirling in your head and your tongue was faster than your tipsy brain.

"Now I'm all pent up." the whisper came out so hushed that even Ellie barely heard it.

The air shifts and Ellie nearly looses her mind. You could cut the tension with a knife. What the fuck were you doing? Surely this isn't something innocent. Suddenly she could feel every inch of your body on hers, a cold sweat running down her insides.

What the fuck does she do now?

Shit.

"Y-yeah?" she whispers even quieter then you, testing the waters. Fuck it, she thought. She could feel the warmth of your centre radiating on her thigh and that was enough for her. With her gaze still on the screen, Ellie moves her hand up your thigh slowly, landing near the bottom of your cotton boxers. She takes the hem between her fingers and plays with it. Maybe this seemed like a bold move, but her insides were doing fucking backflips. She patiently waited for your next move.

"Yeah, got all worked up..." you rasp out, craning your neck to the side and lightly brushing your lips on the red mark you left some days ago. You unhook your leg from Ellies waist and turn to lay on your back, still clinging to her right arm. Ellies hand slips from your ass and lands on the inner part of your leg. Nobody speaks a word.

Ellie thinks she might pass out.

Her fingers draw deliberate circles on your skin, still unsure of her movements. Slowly but surely, they dance up your leg and land again on the hem of your shorts. Ellies eyes are wide with blown out pupils, her breaths come out ragged and short. She can't keep her eyes off of you. Her digits linger for a moment or two, before her pinky grazes your sweet spot. The thing she yearns for. You let out a quick sigh of relief as you both come to an understanding of what's about to happen, but neither of you verbally confirm it. No words need to be said.

Your grip on her arm tightens, silently signaling for her to continue what she was doing. She moves her pinky up and down and if she moved just an inch, she would be right where you needed her.

Ellie decides that she would be taking her sweet ass time. She'd been waiting too long for this to be over in a matter of minutes. She finally feels like she's in control. Her bangs stick to her forehead, her brows are furrowed and they way she's biting her lip will definitely leave a mark. She couldn't see your face, but she imagines its mimicking hers.

You buck your hips up, just a tad, just to let her know its safe to go further. Ellie moves your leg with hers slowly as she opens up your thighs. She so badly wishes to see the view below, so sure that the cotton boxers were a darker shade of grey in the middle. Her throat is dry at the mere thought of your slick.

Ellie moves her hand to cup your cunt, the pads of her digits pressing against your hole lightly. She was right, you were wet.

You were wet for her.

The words keep repeating in her mind.

It takes everything in her not to flip you around and fill you up with her strap, but she can't. Not yet. Not now. Another time if her stars are lucky.

You let out a low moan that you were holding on to while digging your nails into Ellies bicep. Ellies tattooed hand moves up, her fingers tracing your bud with a light pressure, enough to elicit another groan out of you. Ellie groans quietly just at the sight of her hand on your pussy. Her pressure on your clit hardens and she moves her fingers faster. You instinctively open your legs more, giving her better access to play with you.

She halts her movements and you almost whine at the loss of her touch. She slowly lifts up the band of your boxers and slips her hand in. She doesn't know why but she's surprised at the loss of your panties underneath the shorts. Ellie remembers seeing the lace adorning your back just a couple of hours ago and wondering what you were wearing down below. Its a good surprise nonetheless.

You arch your back at the sudden contact of Ellies cold digits on your puffy clit. She circles it again before moving down to gather your slick on her fingers, returning them to your bud.

"E-Ellie..." her name falling from your lips in the most beautiful way Ellie has ever heard and she thinks she could come just from that. Your bury your face in her neck and she feels your every breath.

"Yeah, baby?" she rasps out, continuing to roll your clit around in hard but slow movements. You kiss her neck a bit harder this time, leaving wet trails all the way up to her jaw. Her smell is intoxicating to you. You need more.

"Need more, El." you mutter out shyly. It was embarrassing how quickly you soaked your panties for her. You didn't know that Ellies were even worse than yours.

She dips her head down and catches your lips with hers in a slow kiss. Ellie thinks she's on top of the world.

The touch was electric and Ellie felt as if you were the missing piece to her puzzle. You let go of her arms as you straddle her waist, tangling your hands behind her neck and in her hair. Ellie lets out a groan at the tug of her locks as her hands come up to rest on your ass. She kisses you with so much want and so much need, she doesn't even stop for a quick breath. You both slow down as her hand once again finds your wet centre and you can't help but let out a moan into Ellies mouth. She rubs you through your boxers, teasing you again.

"El, please..." you plead with her, you can't take it anymore. Your head falls into the crook of her neck as you leave another hickey next to the old one.

Ellie feels like a god when she hears her name fall from your mouth, so sickly sweet, so desperate, just for her.

"What do you want, baby? Hm? Tell me." she's not even that much of a dirty talker, but she needs to hear you say it. Needs to hear you say how badly you want her. The craving for you growing stronger.

"Anything. Do whatever you want." the words you say come out in a moan as you grind down on her rough palm.

In a swift motion she flips you over to lay on your back. Your legs wrap around her waist as she pulls up your chin for a deep kiss. Both of you are a moaning mess at this point. The pillows on her couch were thrown somewhere on the floor, the TV long forgotten. Ellie pulls her shirt above her head and you almost salivate at the sight of her abs, her Calvin Kleins peeking out from her shorts. Her messy auburn hair and bitten lips leave you wanting more. You pull her in by her sports bra to continue the kiss. Her fingers toy with the bottom of your shirt as she lifts it up above your tits, the cold air nipping at your exposed skin.

She kisses down your body, starting from your neck down to your clavicle. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." Ellies words sound breathless as she kneads your tits in her hands, running her fingers over your hardened nipples. She kisses them slowly, making sure to leave a few of her marks.

Ellie can't wait any longer, the need to taste you overcomes her completely.

She gets on her knees in front of the couch and settles between your soft thighs, kissing and biting them delicately. Her long digits drag over your tits all the way to your knees. "Can I taste you? Please?" and Ellie didn't even have to ask by the looks of you.

Ellie wishes she could take a picture right now. Your cute face is all blushy, bitten lips waiting for a moan to slip out. Your hair spills around you like you're a work of art. God, don't even get her started on how your perfect body looks under hers.

And who are you to deny her? Her whiny tone and big eyes are enough to send you over the edge.

"Yes, Ellie. Hurry up. Please." you sound just as pathetic as her.

Ellie eyes your heat, pressing a teasing finger right on your wet clit. She bunches up the boxers and slips her hand underneath, touching you with her cold knuckles and dragging them down your slit slowly. The reaction that this elicits from you makes her roll her eyes to the back of her head. She carefully but quickly takes off the cotton material and throws it behind her.

"Jesus, you're so fucking wet." and it feels so pathetic, how wet you got just from a few touches. You don't even wanna know how fast you'll come if she keeps this up.

Ellie finally bows her head down and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, making you buck your hips to her mouth from the action. She shuts her eyes and groans from your taste. Tastes so fucking sweet. She thinks she could live off of you alone. She continues gathering your slick on her tongue as she circles your clit, pulling you closer by your thighs. Her moans mix with your own and you don't think you could hold on any longer.

"E-Els, oh my god. Keep, fuck, keep going!" you croak out while arching your back, pushing into Ellies tongue.

"Hold on, baby. Don't come yet. Just a little longer. Shit, you taste so fucking good." Ellie grumbles between your folds, nose bumping into your bud as she nuzzles deeper. Her chin is covered in your wetness, dripping down the couch.

Her right hand unwraps from your thigh and reaches down into her own shorts. Ellie can't help it, her own slick pooling in her underwear. The thought of her face in your cunt making her go crazy. She speeds up her tongue while she simultaneously rubs her own clit. She doesn't even bother to take off her boxers.

"Tell me when you're close, angel. Okay?" the sound of her voice sending vibrations to your body. You nod frantically, too pent up to even use your words. All you can focus on is her heaven-sent tongue that's working on you.

However, you do notice her sneaky hand in her boxers, and the sight alone makes the tight coil in your stomach snap. Ellie's lapping at you like you're her last meal in the world while her wrist is working on her own clit. The sight is pitiful one, how she's about to come just from eating a girl out. Not just any girl. Her girl.

"Ellie, I'm close, fuck, 'm gonna- gonna come!" you whine with your hands tightly tangled in Ellie's hair. "Yeah, fu- you gonna come for m-me?" and as she utters those words and as her pace is just right, both of you finish at the same time, hot flashes running through your bodies. Ellie's hand and mouth are still not letting up as she works trough your orgasms.

She slows down and takes her hand out of her shorts and lazily wraps it around your thigh. "El- stop, stop, stop, can't take, fuck- can't take anymore." you hum out, your hand wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. Ellie groans in reply, so pussy drunk on your taste that she just can't bring herself to let up. "Ellie! Please..." you push her head away, feeling overstimulated.

"Okay okay, sorry angel." her mouth detaches from your bud with a pop and she continues placing small licks on your hole, cleaning you up. She finishes with a few kisses placed on your clit and inner thighs.

Ellie quickly gets up with wobbly legs and goes to the bathroom to get a fresh towel to clean up the scene that just unfolded. As she looks at herself in the mirror, she sees your shinny slick dripping down her chin and she can't help but smirk at the sight.

She makes her way towards you and now she really wishes she had a fucking camera somewhere here, because even the greatest renaissance painters couldn't have painted a better portrait. You turn your head to look at Ellie with you shirt sitting under your chin, your bottom half completely naked and as the cherry on top, your perfect smile and hazy eyes looking right at her.

She blushes as she sits down next you, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Hey, brought you a clean rag." she says, suddenly feeling very shy under your piercing gaze. "Thanks, babe." you tell her before pulling her down by her bra for a sweet kiss. Ellie immediately melts into you as you taste yourself on her lips. Her heart flutters at the word babe.

"Was, uh, was that good?" her pleading eyes look into your own as she questions you quietly. "Ellie, you're joking, right?" you giggle as you run your fingers through her auburn locks. She turns away from your gaze while a deep blush creeps onto her cheeks.

"Hey," you turn her head towards yours "I don't think I ever came that fast in my life." your blown out pupils meet her own and Ellie's stomach dances at your words.

You pick up her right hand, still looking deep into her eyes. A playful and dangerous look enhancing your stare. You bring up her fingers to your lips, parting them just enough for her digits to slip in, licking them clean from the girls come. Ellie sees white for a second. She pushes them in deeper, and now she can't help but imagine some other things she would do to you.

"Round 2?"

2K notes · View notes

princessoflalaland · 1 month

Text

'HEAD SO GOOD SHE HONOR ROLL!'. ݁₊ ⊹

ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Hiromi and a special guest

synopsis: the jjk men love how much you love having them in your mouth.

'. ݁₊ ⊹content: fem!reader x jjk men, smut, spit play, breath play(choking on that d), oral(m receiving), degradation, voyeurism (implied)

'. ݁₊ ⊹word count: 5.1k

'. ݁₊ ⊹a/n: I have a terrible oral fixation and in dire need to give these wonderful men the best, soul-sucking, toe-curling, God-meeting head they've ever known. and this is how im gonna cope with it :)

Hiromi

"sh-shit, y/n," he hisses, hand burrowing in the locks atop your head. you leer up at him as your hand slips up and down his shaft while your lips work the upper half of his cock. "y'taking me s-so deep, o-oh my God..." your moist lips and hand meet time and time again, spreading your saliva all over him. a groan rumbles from hiromi’s chest, the sound going straight to your already soaked panties.

you bottom him out in your throat, your nose nestled comfortably against his coarse, recently shaved pubes. the scratchy feeling makes the lower part of your gut tingle as you take yourself off him to breathe.

"sorry, romi." you coo lovingly. you're never not working his cock. even during 'breaks' in moments like these, you make sure he has some kind of stimulation. you glance briefly at his gleaming tip, mouth filling with saliva all over again. "y'taste so good. can't get enough..!"

he's back in your mouth, you shamelessly gag on his length. tears brim in your seductive eyes and threaten to spill and ruin your mascara. hiromi watches you hungrily suck him off, like your heart will stop if you don't suck every ounce of cum out of him in the next minute. your head bobs, easily sliding half of his length into your throat before dragging your lips back to his tip. his head leans back, his chair going with it slightly with a creak. "fuuuck, just like that."

hiromi's grip on your hair tightens and you begin to wonder if he wants to take control. you'd love for him to fuck your face, and he'd love that too. to fuck his throbbing dick into that pretty face, ruin your make up and break your already cockdrunk mind even more. but your incessant, vacuum-like felatio has his balls tightening prematurely and his breath shortening.

"crap, y/n, i'm--agh--g-gonna cum." he warns, pressing your head further down, loving the way your throat constricts with your gagging. "gonna let me cum all over that pretty face?" he pants, a salacious glare swirling behind his dark, hooded eyes. "huh, baby? gonna let me cum all over you?"

you nod, somehow, as you bob your head a little faster. your hand grips the sides of his muscular thighs, salty trails of your mascara streaking down your cheeks. you urge him, beg him to release on your face through the sound of your sloppy choking. your slutty noises makes him use your mouth like the fleshlight it is until he feels his cum is spurting out of sensitive tip.

he moans as his core tightens, you yanking this orgasm out of him unapologetically. it takes everything in him to not close his eyes and let the white hot bliss take over. his sweet-sour cum coats your tongue, a worthy reward for relieving this overworked individual of some of his stress. the moans you release send shocks of pleasure straight up hiromi's spine, making his toes curl.

you make good on your wish and let him out of his mouth so he can spary whatever cum he has left all over your pretty, slutty little face. panting like a dog, you revel in how warm his cum is, how it splatters prettily on your visage like abstract art. one of eyes flutters closed as a drop lands right on your eyelid.

"ah, shit!" he swears under his breath. you don't even let him stroke the orgasm out, your hand fervently jerking him off to get as much of his essence out. "fuck, baby, fuck..such a dirty slut aren't you?" a satisfied simper curls his lips as he stares you down. he couldn't be prouder of you, watching his creamy, thick cum paint that gorgeous face. "looking so pretty with my cum all over you..."

and you look as proud of yourself as he does. a soft, grin crinkles your eyes as gaze up at your boss. "thank you, Mr. Higuruma." his cock twitches when you use his professional title.

being his assistant doesn't just stop at bringing him his morning, afternoon, and evening brew, or filing endless reports. no, no, being hiromi higuruma's assistant means all of his needs are met. and if that means getting on your knees in his office at the end of the work day, when the building is sparsely populated with workers, to suck the stress out of him, then so be it.

Geto

movie nights are some of your favorite ways to welcome the weekend with your boyfriend. glutton being your best friend as both of your favorite snacks and drinks crowd the coffee table, a list of films prepped all week to ensure there was never a shortage of entertainment. and let's not forget the blanket that suguru puts in the dryer for ten minutes on high heat for maximum comfort.

all the criterions are met for the perfect movie night, and it's all enhanced when you prance out of the hall wearing those black shorts he loves and an old shirt of his. suguru watches your hips, his eyes making the lazy ascent up to your playful eyes as you saunter over to the sofa.

"what's first on the list?" you ask, plopping down beside him, body flush against his.

"uh," he looks at his phone briefly to check the list he made on his notes app. "it's called Jennifer's Body."

you nod nuzzling and squirming on the cushions until you're comfortable. you angle your head upward at him, a bit of your hair falling softly over your shoulder. "let's get this started then."

you two are barely thirty minutes into the flick before your wandering hands find his dick and cause it to harden under his loose sweats, to which you innocently lowered your head on his lap and found said dick in your mouth. you can only do so much to resist the temptation that is geto suguru's cock, and he would be a complete fool to resist the warm, wet haven that is your skilled mouth.

"fuck, baby. can't even let me watch the movie, huh?" suguru chuckles, hand resting comfortably on your head. "not that I mind though, always make me feel so fuckin' good..."

his words fade on his tongue as you drag your lips down to his cum-filled balls. you've grown addicted to the plushness, the fullness of them in your mouth. you press your tongue to them roughly, coaxing them to give you the deliciousness you know is hidden within. you drag your godsend tongue up his shaft and swallow his cock whole, making his stomach clench, eliciting a wanton groan from him. "shorry, shugu," you say around a mouthful of him, "love your cock shoo much."

suguru’s eyes go out of focus, the pleasure damn near blinding him, as both your hands expertly work his cock and balls in tandem with your mouth. the lewd sucking and gagging sounds along with suguru's deep moans drowns out the movie that you both have long disregarded. your boyfriend's other hand slips over your back to your ass, his rough palm massaging the plush of it. his voice is a husky whisper when he finally collects enough of himself to utter words. "take it deeper, baby..i know you can- ah!" you obey him promptly not letting him finish his sentence. you angle your head, letting his fat tip prod the inside of your cheek. he watches this, feeling the coil in his stomach tighten more. "shit, shit, y/n. so fuckin' nasty..."

"only for you, baby." you've taken your mouth off him with a proud pop, stroking him, spreading your excess spit around him. you look him in the eyes sultrily, eyes zeroing in on his lips. a new desire blossoms in your chest and you realize you really wanna kiss him right now, wanna feel his smooth lips on your wet ones. you want his tongue to caress your own and make you even wetter than you are now.

knowing you for so long comes with the ability to read you like an open book. "make me cum and I'll give you what you want." he promises with a squeeze to your butt, prompting you to lower your head back down to his sheeny dick. you smile sweetly and put all your effort in to making him achieve an orgasm, bobbing your head fervently with a soundtrack of sloppy slurps and gags to get him to cum.

suguru swears and praises you under his breath as the coil tightens impossibly tighter. "don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," his pleas spur you on, making you bring your head all the way down till your nose kisses his pelvis. tracing a vein along his shaft with your tongue, moaning softly is the last push he needs.

his cum spills over your tongue and down your throat, the sweet then sour taste like the most potent drug, making your eyes roll and toes curl. carefully, your lips wrap around his tip so some of his orgasm is caught on your tastebuds. a thin trail of saliva connects you to him as you finally release him. "fuck," suguru breathes, satisfied. "c'mere, love.." he kisses you, his tongue finding your cum-covered one and tasting himself. he sighs deeply, a hand snaking its way to your nape and pulling you closer. when you two part, he gives you a long, searching look, one that seems to be searching for the depths of your heart and what hides in it.

"you're so good to me." he muses, his thumb lazily rubbing your nape. "what did I do to deserve you?" heat floods your system at his sentiment. he has the tendency to become saccharine and raw after intimacy.

you straddle his lap, feeling his dick harden under your weight. "you didn't do anything but love me for me." you relent, cupping his face and kissing him. "and I couldn't ask for anything else."

Toji

you couldn’t wait until after your shift to get his dick down your throat. no, no, you just had to call him out in the middle of the workday, pull him into a dingy alley, and drop to your knees like a common whore.

“this what i do to you, ma?” he rasps as your lips make the lewd descent to his base. “give you dick so good you can’t even go the day without it?” the tip of your nose just barely grazes his rough pubes before your pulling your head back, gasping for air. a string of saliva connecting you to the thing you crave the most in this moment.

“mhm..” you hum distantly. you’re mind is not on anything he’s saying or what’s going on. you don’t care how the pavement bites you through the thin tights you wear, or the passerby just outside the alley. all you care about is dousing the fire in the pit of your stomach that’s been raging since this morning. pumping his cock hurriedly, you suckle on the tip like it’s a casual popsicle.

toji doesn’t like the lack of attention he’s getting, his eyes darkening and lips curling downward. normally, you’re equally infatuated with his dick and him, like they’re two separate beings. cooing to him how much you love his cock, praising it, while worshipping said cock with that godsend mouth of yours.

but right now, it seems your attention is solely on his cock, which doesn't fly over well with your fuckbuddy. instead of gently cupping the back your head like he’s been doing, he seizes a harsh fistful of your locks and bottoms out into your throat. a gasp-like moan is stifled by his length from the sudden intrusion, your eyes widening and tears burning the backs of them. he holds you there, groaning lowly at the way your throat convulses as you gag.

“stupid bitch..” he mutters, he holds you there for a few seconds before sliding himself out your wet cavern to keep you from passing out. you don't even think to tap his leg to signal that it's too much, his cock being the only thing on that dirty ol' mind. "think you too good to answer me or somethin?" your mouth lolls open, your gaze seeing past his.

toji slaps his dick on the side of your face, eyebrows pinched together in what could either be annoyance or confusion. "you cockdrunk already?" all he gets in response is a lazy nod.

the only time you come to your senses is when you fervently try to reunite your tongue with his dick. you sloppily bob your head on him, lewd squelching and sucking sounds bouncing off the alley's dirty walls.

it's rather rare for you to get so cockdrunk you can't even respond to him, so he decides to use this to his advantage.

“you want my cum, pretty? that why you actin like you can’t talk?” toji mutters through clenched teeth. he can barely contain the sounds rumbling in his chest from how good you’re being to him. his eyes flicker to the alley’s entrance, seeing the multitude of people passing you two by obliviously.

his scar twitches as the beginnings of a smirk form on his face. what he wouldn’t give for someone to make a wrong turn for whatever reason and catch you, on your knees giving him the sloppiest head. he brings his attention back to you, watching as his dick slides in and out of your throat with ease.

“s’good a fuckin whore, makin me feel so good..” your fuckbuddy’s words almost collide into each other with how good your mouth feels. his eyes nearly disappear into his skull when he bottoms again, reveling in the constriction of your throat as you gag. he wants to test your limits, see how long you can keep him in that pretty little throat if yours. "you want my cum, so fuckin work for it," he growls.

tears chase each other down your cheeks, leaving dark messy trails of mascara. saliva coats the lower half of your face and some parts of your cheeks. your eyes, a little red with your lashes glittering with tears. a complete and utter slutty mess, thats what you are in this moment. but toji thinks you’ve never looked prettier. a hint of adoration worms its way into his condescending gaze as you loll your tongue out at him as though you are asking for something.

“what? feelin nastier than usual?” he asks, collecting spit onto his tongue to deposit onto your waiting one. he gives you a generous amount, letting it slide off his tongue down to your open mouth in a long, silky trail. you pant like a bitch in heat as you wait for the saliva to land in your mouth, eyes wide with orgastic anticipation.

mixing his saliva with your own, you continue to blow him and let him fuck your face. toji feels his balls tighten as his orgasm approaches. "'agh, fuck, y/n. 'm gettin close.." he doesn’t try to keep quiet anymore than you do, the erotic duet the two of you make reverberating off the alley and back into your ears.

“want me to cum on yer face, slut? paint that pretty face with my cum?” he moans, using your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight to reach his climax. you feign a nod through his harsh thrusts.

“shit, ‘m gonna cum, baby. gonna cum all over you...” that’s his final warning before he yanks his dick out of your mouth and releases onto you. your eyes stay glued on him as his thick, potent cum spurts onto your face and into your mouth.

“take it, take it, take it…” he hisses through his teeth. this orgasm of his fierce and he can’t tell if it’s from the grade A head you just gave him, or because of how much of a whore you were and how that turned him on like nothing else. “that’s a good girl,” he sighs once he’s done, twitching a little as you kitten lick his tip for more.

wiping a dollop of his cum from your cheek and sucking it off your finger, you gaze up at him. “thanks, toji.” you’ve come back to your senses, so you stand up and pull a compact mirror from your back pocket. you smirk at your reflection, admiring the milky globs he so graciously left on your face. you won’t admit it, but you love when he defiles you like this, leaves his mark on you so no one ever forgets who gets you to act like this. and you won’t ever need to admit it to him because he already knows, knows you’re his and always will be.

Nanami

you love your husband, and with that love comes with helping him destress the second he comes through the door to your home. you greet him in a way any wife would: take his coat and hang it for him, asking him how his day was, give him a kiss, which turns into two, then three, then find yourself on your knees undoing his zipper and freeing his aching cock.

"lemme help you, honey. you always work so hard..." you purr, your warm breath traveling over his length and sending shivers up his spine. "God," he breathes, hazel eyes fluttering. "how can I resist when you look at me like that?"

with a simper, you wrap your plush lips around his tip, drinking the precum pooling there. your eyes become heavy-lidded as the flavor of it traverses over your tastebuds. humming your satisfaction, you let in more of his cock. the girth of it stretches out your mouth, forces you to widen your jaw until it aches. the pain is good though; it's worth it if it means you can get more of your husband's dick down your throat.

nanami tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you, lust vibrating beneath his skin, making him feverish. his breath comes out harshly through his nose as you leer up at him. he'll never get over the polarity with you. outside, you're a respectable young woman, one he is proud to call his wife. you're articulate and kind, you never fail to make his heart swell with affection and pride.

but within the walls of your shared home, you become something else. a minx, a nymph, a siren. you make him ache for you in ways he never has for any woman, bring him pleasure like no one else. you worship him and let him have his way with you. and honestly, there's nothing more he could ask for after another grueling day at work.

"oh, my love..that's so good." your husband moans deeply through labored breaths. "yes, baby, just like that. take me nice and deep."

your tongue presses firmly to the underside of his dick after it has traced every vein on it. you don't even need your hands, having more control with just your mouth than some have with both their hands. he can't tear his eyes away from yours, it's like he's entranced. you've reeled him in and there's no going back.

slow, steady bobbing of your head leaves your spouse breathless. he holds both sides of your head, fighting demons not to buck into your warm, wet, perfect mouth. the subtle gagging sounds you make nearly makes him snap. "such a good wife, treating me s-so nicely.." he praises. "ah, fuck, y'always so good to me..so fuckin good." hearing the usually decorous nanami curse is music to your ears.

nanami can feel his legs weakening, the pleasure that pulses through him with every beat of his heart becoming too much. your throat is so well trained, it takes all his inches with ease. your jaw is achingly numb from being widened for so long. you let your head make small, almost imperceptible circles as you speed up, angling your occasionally so his tip pokes your inner cheek, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

"ah, y/n," he chuckles, surprised at how slutty yet modest you can be. not a single drop of saliva has escaped your mouth since you've started. "gonna make me cum. p-please, keep going, 'm so close."

with each bob of your head, you get closer to the base, your eyes breaking contact with his to glance at the golden pubes that come just out of reach of your nose.

"yes, yes, yes." nanami's voice raises in pitch for a split second, indicating that you're doing a stellar job. soft moans from you vibrate through him, making him jerk slightly. his fingers dig into your hair his eyes struggling to stay open as ecstasy threatens to shut his brain down entirely.

your husband's jaw drops as he feels himself going right over the edge, careening into the pits of what's going to be an amazing orgasm. when you're sure he can't take anymore, you let your lips kiss his base, snatching his orgasm right from him.

nanami can't stop the pathetic noises he makes as his cum pours done your throat. your throat feels heavenly, constricting and relaxing the way your pussy would. he convulses slightly, a sweet mix of whimpers and soft moans falling from his lips.

"baby- baby, please I can't-" he can barely beg you properly. his hips involuntarily buck further into your mouth as his orgasm reaches its end, his tip jabbing at the back of your throat mercilessly.

you drag your lips slowly back to his tip, watching him darkly as he twitches. you release him with a pop and finally use your hand to gently stroke him.

"c'mon, kento," you say softly as you rise to your feet, still maintaining a gentle hold on him. "lemme help you unwind a little more, you've earned it."

and with that, he falls in love with you all over again.

Gojo

"i've always wanted to try this with you, baby. a-always wanted to see what it'd be like..." your boyfriend has not shut up since you so kindly hung your head off the side of the bed and asked him to fuck your face. his heavy, breathy words heat the room along with the wild lust dancing behind his sky blue eyes. if only you could see that look on his face, the sultry adoration contorting his features.

"takin it so good, pretty. my pretty fuckin whore..." gojo's hands carefully cradles your head and neck. your own hand has busied itself with lazily rubbing your pussy, slick oozing down to your ass and the sheets. the sounds coming from you send ripples of pleasure through gojo's system making him just a bit louder. this angle allows him the view of a lifetime. he can see the bulge his length forms in your small throat, the sight of it making his mind even hazier.

his thrusts stagger and he pulls out to let you breathe. you gulp down fresh air, saliva trailing down onto your cheeks and making its way slowly toward your lower eyelids. gojo strokes himself as you recover, panting with flushed cheeks.

"you're so sexy like this, my sexy little slut." his voice is dripping with sultry adoration and honesty. he truly believes you're a gift from above because who else, other than an angel, would let them be defiled like this for him? he rubs his tip across your puckered lips, smearing precum and spit all over them. "aw God, y-you're gorgeous, angel, y'know that?" his praises continue to tumble out of his mouth as your boyfriend eases his way back into your waiting jaws. "so perfect, perfect f'me."

your fingers pick up the pace along with the speed of his thrusts. primal moans and whimpers, wet slurps and gags, the subtle squelching of your sopping pussy are the only noises in the room. you bring your hand up and pinch your nipple, yanking a gargled moan out of yourself. your essences leaks generously onto the sheets as his tip continues to tease your uvula and reduce your already weak gag reflex.

gojo's shameless whimpers and breathy approval makes you want to do more to please him, so you abandon your nipple, reach out and fondle his heavy balls. "agh, Christ, y/n!" he shouts, moans chasing the words, "tryna make me cum, huh? don't wanna cum too quick, wanna make th-this last.." your soft hands squeeze his breeder balls, coaxing them to give you everything he has to offer. your significant other begs you to ease up, to not tease him so much. you chuckle, the vibration making his mind go blank long enough for you to let your fingers wander to his perineum.

gojo's jaw goes slack as he throws his head back, sloppily thrusting his cum straight into your throat. the pressure in his lower abdomen released without him even realizing and now he can't seem to stop his hips as your delicate fingers massage the space between his ass and scrotum. there's so much cum, too much for your mouth to hold and your throat to take in. some dribbles down the sides of your mouth, over the spit trails on your cheeks and too close to your eye. as his cum slides down your throat, your hips buck upward as you climax onto your fingers. when he pulls out, he strokes the rest of his release out onto your neck and chest, shaking and gasping.

gojo hasn't really opened up about trying certain things, especially butt stuff, but the way he yelped and his usually perfect thrusts stuttered when he came is indication enough that maybe now he will be.

Totusmoto

you've been waiting for this moment, waiting since you first laid eyes on your neighbor. his lumbering figure drifting in and out of the run down apartment complex never failed to trigger something carnal in you. and things only got worse when you'd hear his gravelly, desperate moans through the walls. you couldn't care less for the woman who tried to harmonize with him with her own sounds, all that mattered was listening to him.

so, when your sink suddenly decided to act up, calling the landlord for a repairman was not the first thing that came to mind. you'd run into totsumoto yuushi at the apartment mailbox, both of you silently rifling through envelopes. as soon as the opportunity presented itself, you seized it. you struck up a simple conversation, something about the sweltering heat that summer rolled in. he looked at you with a bored expression at first, wondering why anyone who wasn’t someone he owed money was paying him any mind. but the look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know: behind that polite gaze was a caged, carnal beast that wanted him.

it was then he knew you were definitely worth getting to know. over time, you two became well acquainted. chatting nonstop at the laundromat, while you two retrieved the mail, and just anywhere you two happened to be. everything was falling into place, just like you wanted. one day, you casually asked him if he knew anything about plumbing. having been a maintenance man for one of his many jobs, he told you yes. and yuushi had an inclination there was much more to this inquiry of yours than his expertise regarding pipes.

so now, on another sweltering afternoon after your neighbor so graciously fixed your faulty sink pipes, you're paying him back for his kindness by swallowing his dick whole.

"h-holy shit- you're really g-good." your neighbor's gravelly voice only darkens the wet patch already staining your panties. one hand you pumps the parts of yuushi's cock that you're out of practice throat can't quite reach. your eyebrows pinch together slightly as you watch him ogle you. you're lost in those dark eyes of his, not wanting to be anywhere else other than under his carnal stare.

"mhm, take it. take it like the good girl you are..." he's much sweeter than you anticipated, but from what you've heard through the walls, it doesn't come to much of a surprise. yuushi gently places his hand on your head, guiding you down his shaft. "that's it, you can take more of me, more of this fuckin cock."

the need to please yuushi, to show him you're better than whoever gets the honor of being fucked silly by him every night, becomes more important than the need for air. so, just to prove how badly you need him, you take in more of his thick inches, your eyes forcing themselves shut so you can focus on controlling your gags. yuushi groans, gripping the counter behind him with his free hand fiercely. the spasms of your throat are heavenly. "just like that, fuck. yes, baby, yes." even if he tries, he can't stifle the pathetic sounds you force out of him.

you reel back, a thin spit trail connecting you to him. you gasp, which dissolves into heavy panting. you're eyes are completely clouded over, a look that tells yuushi: i'm your whore, so treat me like one.

"c'mon love, back in your mouth." he orders breathily when he thinks you've had a long enough breather. "wanna feel your mouth again, c'mon, please.."

your hand and mouth work double time, thick globs of saliva hitting the tile of your kitchen as your gargle on his dick. yuushi senses his climax chasing him down from the telltale tightness in him stomach. the impending orgasm causes him to lose himself just a bit, and he bucks up into your mouth in time with the bobbing of your head. "fuck, angel." he pants, his brain fogging over with the white bliss that's building like a tsunami coming to shore. "just a bit more, 'm almost there, almost... fuck!"

he grabs the sides of your head and brings your lips flush against his base. his cum floods your mouth, letting you briefly taste its warm saltiness, before traveling down your esophagus. the white of your eyes are all he can see, or would see if his head wasn't thrown back from the immense pleasure. when he's done, he slowly withdraws his gleaming cock from your jaws, trying and failing to catch his breath.

he looks down at you with the utmost fondness, so much so, your heart flutters like a lovestruck teen's. yuushi truly can't believe his luck. sure, sex with the spirit haunting his room may be some of the best sex he's ever had, but you, you're something else. maybe it's how tangible you are, how he can see you whenever. maybe it's because now he's unabashedly curious of what else you have in store. maybe it's because he knows being with a ghost may never amount to being with a living, breathing woman. whatever the case may be, he knows it's going to be borderline impossible for him to stay away from you now.

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talaok · 2 months

Text

The sweetest remedy

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!pregnant!reader

summary: Joel has a bad day at work, but you know how to make him forget all about it

warnings: Joel is very much in love with his pregnant wife, a bunch of fluff, smut| oral sex (f receiving), Joel takes care of himself but you still swallow, fluffy smut, Joel being the pussy eating king that he is

"what's wrong?"

He'd taken one step into the house and you could already tell something was off

His forehead was creased with lines of annoyance and exhaustion, and by the way he was discarding his boots and jacket you knew he was pissed.

You were on the couch, your body turned towards the entrance, towards him, the tv muted behind you

"nothin'" he grumbled, setting his keys on the counter

"baby" you cooed, pouting softly "c'mere"

And of course, he did

Seeing you was all that made him survive these types of shitty days at work

Especially when he knew you'd be waiting for him in those flimsy summer dresses you loved to wear in the summer,

and especially since he'd gotten your belly to swell with the gift of a child.

You were five months in, and he fell in love with you all over again every time he looked at you

He had you straddling his lap the moment he sat down, his hands on your waist and his eyes all over you.

"tell me what's wrong," you asked again

You hated seeing him all troubled, he deserved nothing but happiness this man of yours,

because that's what he brought to you every single day

He sighed, before nodding slowly

"it's jus' the guys at work babygirl," he said "nothin' you gotta worry about"

you didn't pay attention to the last part

"What did they do this time?" you asked, softly caressing his chest to try and soothe him

"one of 'em didn't show" he grunted, the palms of his rough hands starting their journey from your pregnant belly to your butt and thighs

"Again?" you raised your eyebrows, annoyed too now "I don't understand why you don't just fire them and get new guys"

The first little smile since he first came home tugged at his lips

"what a coldhearted little boss you'd make" he joked, smirking softly.

You rolled your eyes, biting down a grin of your own

"you know I'm right"

He pushed you even closer to him before responding, wanting to feel more of you, all of you

"I know you are babygirl" he nodded, his forehead to yours now "but you know how I am... I know these guy's stories and evrythin'- I jus' don't have it in me"

Ah that's right

Who could have ever expected such a rough and tough exterior to be hiding such a softie

"you're too nice for your own good, Miller" You couldn't help but smile, softly kissing his cheek

He only grunted in response, losing himself in the scent and feel of you

"'m gonna have a talk with him Monday, I'll see what he has to say for himself"

You nodded, watching him closely

"that's a good idea" you murmured as you let him guide your mouth to his, impatiently kissing you as he'd dreamed of doing since he took the first step out of the house this morning.

You let him taste you, his tongue in your mouth and his beard against your skin, until you both needed air and had to lean away

But something seemed still off, usually, he only needed to feel your lips on his to forget all about his day, but today... today that little shadow in his eyes was still lurking in his iris

"baby" you pouted, your hands reaching for his cheeks to gently take his face in your hands "what can I do to make you feel better?"

And in retrospect, you didn't even know why you asked,

Your husband might have been a gentleman and a hard worker and everything else in this entire world... but he still was just a man.

A man that happened to love the taste of his wife more than anything on this earth

Which is why he didn't waste a moment before murmuring

"y'know what I need babydoll"

God but the way his voice always dropped an octave and that sweet southern drawl got more noticeable every time he needed you was more than enough to impregnate you all over again

"you're insatiable, Miller" you shook your head, laughing that light laugh of yours that made him feel summer breeze and sunshine all over him even on the coldest day of winter

But he didn't laugh, oh no, Joel Miller didn't laugh, he only looked at you, admired you, as you made your decision

"alright" you smiled, getting off his lap with a low groan, before laying on the couch, propping a pillow on the armrest so you could set your head on it to not have your belly cover the best part of the show, which of course, was your husband between your thighs.

just like he was now.

Good Christ and heaven all tougher did he look fucking hot like that,

his eyes fixed on your clothed core, his pupils big and dark with lust, his hands gripping the outside of your legs, his breathing almost as quick as yours...

His eyes found yours as his nose plummeted to your core, his nostrils flaring as he did what would make any woman self-conscious,( that was of course, if they weren't married to such a depraved and pussy obsessed man), he smelled you, he smelled you like you would with a good meal before devouring it, the tip of his nose ever so gently rubbing against your clit in the process.

You whimpered like you always did, and, like he always did, he only continued with his torture.

His tongue felt good even though the soaked material

"Joel" you whined now, as he licked slowly and thoroughly,

He resisted the urge to make you come like that, although he'd proved times and times before that he very well could,

he only stopped when there wasn't a spot on your underwear that wasn't drenched, and your chest was rising and falling faster than the speed of light

That, only that, was when his fingers reached for the fabric covering your core and pulled it to the side, his eyes falling to the work of art between your legs

he didn't say anything, he couldn't, he only groaned before he was devouring you whole

"oh my f-" you cried, your back arching from the couch as his hand seeped underneath your dress to get to your belly, his eyes finding yours again "f-fucking god baby"

He groaned again, his tongue drinking up everything you gave him, swirling over your clit over and over again, getting you utterly desperate just to tease you and fall to your hole, threatening to enter and forcing a gasp out of your mouth

your thighs squeezed around his head just like he liked it, robbing him of almost all oxygen as he buried his whole face into your weeping cunt.

"Joel- baby- p-please"

but he was back at sucking your clit, and all the words in your vocabulary got replaced by mindless, animalistic moans as one of your hands shot to his hair, gripping his hazel locks tightly as your hips started grinding onto his face, his nose, his mustache, his everything

And fuck if he didn't love it, if he didn't live to see you use him for your own pleasure, drenching his face and the couch beneath you with all your sweet juices as you whimpered and moaned what alternated between curses and his name with that irresistible desperate voice of yours.

Yeah, there was nothing that could ever beat this,

the feeling that he got every time you came apart like this was something that could have only been described as a glimpse of heaven, with the angels singing and everything too.

"f-fuck" he knew that high pitch cry, oh he knew it really fucking well "baby I-"

And you didn't even have to tell him, he already knew.

He continued feasting on your pussy, letting you chase your own high, and before you knew it, your head was thrown back and a wildfire of pleasure spread through your whole body, from your toes to the ends of your fucking hair.

You would have guessed you'd just run a marathon by how fast your heart was beating

"you're the most gorgeous woman on this planet" Joel murmured more to himself as he kissed the inside of your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, before crawling up to ghost your lips "with the sweetest fuking pussy too"

You could only let out a silly laugh before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of that sweetness.

But when you didn't feel him grind what you knew must have been a rock hard erection underneath his jeans, on your core like he usually did, you frowned, as you watched him sit up instead

"baby?" your forehead creased even more in puzzlement once you watched him undo his zipper and pull out his aching cock, not looking even remotely interested in making a move to position himself at your entrance

"what are you doing?" you finally asked, sitting up too now

He wrapped a hand around his dick as he answered

"You're still sore from this mornin'"

What does that have to do with anything?

"but-"

He shook his head, watching you closely with that honest care that he only showed you "no but" he declared "I don't wanna hurt you babygirl"

And although you would have liked to argue, you knew that since you'd gotten pregnant, his protective side had somehow gotten even more hard-headed, and changing his mind was damn near impossible, which is why what you did instead, was change the tactic

"I still have hands... or a mouth, you know?" you cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his manhood

You didn't miss the way his member twitched ever so little at the proposal,

but then again, he had always refused you going down on him since the pregnancy, not because he didn't want to, fuck- god only knew the unspeakable things he'd do to let that pretty mouth of yours take care of him, no, the reason was he simply didn't want you to go through all that just for him, for his insignificant pleasure.

"All you gotta do is just sit there and look pretty, sugar" he murmured, finally starting to stroke himself, groaning lowly as he did

Your breathing faltered at the image, his large hands fisting his cock hard, stroking up and down in a way that looked incredibly natural and incredibly intimate at the same time.

And even if he'd ignored your proposal, you couldn't help but smile before pressing a kiss to his neck, right where his pulse was fighting against his skin.

And while you did that, now softly peking every inch of skin not covered by his shirt, you started undoing the straps of your dress, letting them fall down with the top of it once you were done

"like this?" you asked, biting down a smirk as Joel let out a desperate moan at the image before him.

God your tits looked even fucking better now, so full, so soft, so- so fucking perfect

"sweet Jesus" he groaned, his eyes panning between your mouth and your boobs as his strokes got faster, more desperate

You felt his hand sneak up your body and finding your tits, grabbing at them softly, gently caressing each one with all the care and amazement in the word, until he was whispering, begging "fucking-come here" and pulled your mouth to his, leaving a wet, filthy kiss on your lips as he continued palming your front.

the sound from his work on his dick was obscene, but neither of you cared, especially when the words coming out of your mouth happened to be even obscene.

"You're close?" you asked, feeling his heavy breath fanning over your mouth

"yeah doll"

You kissed him again quickly before speaking

"come inside my mouth baby"

Again, Joel Miller might have been as incredible as you wanted... but he still remained only a man,

a man who had to fight with everything he had in himself not to bust his load right there

"Good fucking Christ-" he groaned, closing his eyes as he threw his head back "fuck me"

"I would if you'd let me" you joked, placing another kiss beneath his ear

He laughed softly, opening his eyes to find yours "you want me to come in your mouth sugar?"

"yes" you nodded without missing a beat "I need it" you cooed, stroking his beard as his breathing became more and more uneven, his cock on the verge of exploding

"I need you to fill me up baby, if not my pussy, my throat at least"

"fuck"

you always knew what to say to get him going

"fucking- damnit" he groaned, tugging hurriedly at his cock as he ordered you to "don't move- open your mouth" until he was kneeling beside you on the couch, grunting and moaning soft curses or that's it-good girl, looking down lovingly at you till his warm seed was filling your whole mouth.

It took him a moment to come back to life, to the real word, but before he knew it, you were kissing as he held you close to his chest.

"Feeling better?" you finally asked

"I don't even remember what I was mad about babydoll"

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

under the covers

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, caught, drunk/tipsy sex, unprotected sex

you’re trying to hold in your giggles as rafe pulls you inside, his large hands swallowing your waist, fingers tucking into the small sliver of space between your shorts and shirt to touch your bare skin.

“shh.” rafe tries to quiet you, but he’s smiling too, letting out a small laugh before pressing your lips together in a kiss to hopefully keep both of you quiet.

“c’mon.” you whisper against rafes lips. “take me upstairs.”

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods, hand wrapping around yours. he looks quickly around the corner before tugging you towards the stairs, making your way up as quickly and quietly as you possibly can.

“get in, get in.” rafe whispers as he opens the door to his room. you rush inside, glad that you made it up to his bedroom without being caught, both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to not care about getting caught by rafes family.

you wrap your arms around rafes shoulders as he effortlessly picks you up, carrying you towards his bed, his hands gripping your ass.

“i love this dress.” rafe says when he sits you down, flipping up the bottom of your skirt as you let out a squeal at your underwear being exposed. “shh!” rafe reminds you to be quiet, but his worried face just makes you giggle, hoping the walls are soundproof despite the house being old.

“take your shirt off.” you tell rafe as you reach behind your back to undo the corset-style ties holding your dress tight to your body.

you manage to wiggle out of your dress while rafe unbuttons his shirt, tossing it away to reveal his muscles. you swear every time you see him shirtless he gets more attractive, your hands reaching out to run over his torso, laughing quietly as you poke his nipple.

“stop it, silly girl.” rafe shoves your hands away.

“let me play with them.” you try to reach up to his chest again. “let me play with them then you can play with mine.”

“fine, for like a second though.” rafe will always indulge you if it gives him the opportunity to play with your tits.

you reach up, thumbs running over his nipples, pulling your lower lip between your face in concentration.

rafe lets out a quiet moan, his eyes squeezing closed when you flick over the buds. “holy shit, you like this.” you state when you realize that rafes cock is pushing against the fabric of his pants, having hardened quicker than normal.

“shut up.” rafe groans, knowing now that you realize how sensitive his nipples are that you’re never going to leave them alone. “take your bra off.”

“mmm, fine.” you hum, rubbing the pad over your fingers over his nipples one more time before reaching behind your back, tugging your bra off and tossing it away, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

“such pretty tits, baby.” rafe coos, reaching down to cup your chest, his large palms easily holding your heavy breasts.

“gonna come suck on them?” you ask, knowing how much rafe loves to get his mouth on you.

“yeah, lay back.” rafe cocks his head towards the top of the bed, and you quickly scurry to lay yourself against the pillows, adjusting them slightly as rafe tugs his pants off so hes just in his underwear like you are, feeling a bit of relief now that he’s not straining against his zipper.

rafe crawls over your body, pressing his cock into your thigh as he ghosts his lips over your nipple before flicking out his tongue.

“oh shit.” you moan, one hand fisting in the comforter while the other grabs rafes shoulder, digging your nail slightly into the skin, but rafe loves the pain.

he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth while you moan, trying to keep your voice quiet enough to not wake anyone up. you made the mistake of being too loud one night, thinking since ward and rose were gone that gave you a little more clearance, only for sarah to pound on rafes door and tell him to keep it down.

“so good, baby.” rafe praises you, dragging his mouth over to the other side of your chest, making sure to give both sides equal attention.

you let out a shiver, the cold air combined with the loss of warmth from rafes mouth causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your nipple to pebble even more.

“are you cold baby?” rafe asks, his voice soft and cooing, so unlike how he speaks to his friends, only allowing this side of himself out for you.

“yeah, need your cock inside me to warm me up.” you giggle, not usually bold enough to dirty talk but the alcohol flowing through you is loosening your tongue.

“of course.” rafe hums like its the obvious answer. he stands off the bed to take off his underwear, his eyes on you as you smirk and raise your legs to pull your own panties off.

you spread your legs to show rafe your pussy, already wet for him in anticipation.

“god, can’t wait to get inside you.” rafe says, taking a moment to tug the comforter from underneath you, crawling onto the bed and draping it over both your bodies. its an uncharacteristically cold night in the outer banks, despite the summer sun warming the air during the day, the winds have brought a chill to the island.

“mmm, very warm now.” you smile, the heat from both of your bodies now trapped.

“still need my cock though?” rafe asks.

“mhm.” you nod quickly. “fuck me, please.” “aww, baby.” rafe laughs, taking your knee and raising it to wrap around his waist, sinking to his elbows as he uses his hand to line his cock up with your entrance. “you never have to beg me.”

rafe pushes his cock in slowly, knowing he can’t go too fast because he didn’t open you up with his fingers or tongue, having to resist your soft moans and whines until he’s fully seated inside.

“god, so good.” you rub your fingers over rafes scalp, taking a breath to relax, allowing your body to release its tension of suddenly having rafes cock pushing against your walls, stretching you open.

“hey, rafe!” the voice calls from outside, making you both pause, realizing at once that the door is unlocked as ward turns the handle, stepping into the room and continuing to speak, “i need you to help out tomor-”

ward suddenly stops speaking, seeing you in bed, trying to hide underneath rafe and the covers while he hovers over top of you, thankfully any nudity being covered from wards eyes.

“rafe.” ward sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “you didn’t tell me you had someone over.” “sorry, dad.” rafe says, straining to not move, his cock still solid inside of you. “y/n is over.” “hi mr. cameron.” you say, wondering if its clear what you are doing with rafe at the moment, hoping ward is just thinking you’re cuddling or something.

rafes hips suddenly move, making you let out a noise thats a combination of a moan and a gasp. he pulls out almost completely before pressing back inside of you, the movements somewhat slow but still incredibly obvious.

“rafe, stop!” you whisper, cheeks turning red as rafe ignores your plea, continuing to thrust inside of you, despite his father still standing in the doorway.

“jesus christ, rafe.” ward sighs with disappointment. “anyways, i need your help tomorrow so don’t stay up to late… and be safe. use protection.” ward finally leaves, closing the door behind you.

“rafe!” you look up at your boyfriend, reaching to hit his shoulder. “you couldn’t sit still for one fucking minute!” “sorry, baby.” rafe laughs, the alcohol clearly affecting his judgment. “had to move, your pussy is too good.”

“you’re lucky i don’t listen to wards advice and make you use a condom.” you groan, even as your leg tightens around rafes hips, encouraging him to move faster.

“aw, come on baby.” he pouts. “you wouldn’t.”

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sttoru · 10 months

Note

can we get a pervert toji? as nasty as possible :3

“ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! ”

ෆ note. yehahshsbe yeeass please i love perv!toji.. :3 actually any perv!character s my weakness hehdhen i went a little wild writing this oopsie this is so detailed ohmyogddd anyways….. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. perv!toji x female reader. somnophilia, age gap (reader early 20s, toji mid 30s), panties stealer, m! masturbation, daddy kink, implied threesome, cunnilingus, breeding (talks of pregnancy), manhandling, overstimulation, size difference, cum play, boob job, name calling (slut), cervic fucking, mating press, calls you ‘baby, little girl, doll’, uhh anyway toji’s just a big pervert who gets turned on by anything. includes compilation of seperate, small drabbles.

toji, whom you wouldn’t have guessed was a pervert of any kind at the start of your relationship. your first intimate experience with him went as expected; it was soft and slow vanilla sex. you were just getting to know each other’s preferences in bed, so for the first few times there were almost to no signs of toji’s sexual perversity. all you remember was him being the dominant one. nothing more.

but oh, there was so much more to that. it was just hidden from your view in the early stages of your relationship. you didn’t have any knowledge of what toji was doing behind your back or what his actual thoughts were during the times you’ve been intimate.

toji, whom you didn’t know wanted to get straight into business from the very beginning of your sex life; to have your wrists pinned above your head, his hips slamming into your small cunt and molding it to remember the shape of his big cock. toji needed to see your helpless body moaning, screaming, crying and drooling from underneath him. but he couldn’t achieve that just yet; he needed to take it easy on you at first—to build up the trust between you two in bed. especially because you weren’t as experienced as he was.

toji, whom could only count on his imagination to fulfil his secret desires. he does this whenever you’re staying over and are asleep in his bed next to him. the entire apartment would be dead quiet except for toji’s muffled grunts and the faint wet sounds of him jerking off underneath the blanket.

you’d be in deep slumber with your back facing him and he’ll pleasure himself at simply the sight of your body. the older man loved just how vulnerable and innocent you seemed in your sleep—leaving your figure open and accessible to his view.

the strokes on his cock would get faster each time his eyes land on the shape of your ass. toji always imagines how it’d look when he’s giving you backshots, how the fat would jiggle with each thrust or smack of his hand. he wants to see your plump ass bounce back on him and maybe even have it covered in his cum.

toji, who sometimes stops palming himself just to turn your body around to face him. that way he can have a great view of your tits and fantasise of putting his cock between them, having the pair swallow his entire length once he squeezes them together. he’s never talked to you about it, but he will one day when you’re ready to explore more kinks and stuff in the bedroom.

toji, who keeps a pair of your panties in a secret drawer. those are his special panties, aka, the ones he uses to jerk off when you’re away. he’s done the filthiest of stuff with them; he has sniffed the insides-as if the scent of your sweet cunt lingered on the fabric- he has wrapped the cloth around his thick cock and even came multiple times all over it. he always imagines it being your pussy that he spills his load in; not his fist nor the panties.

toji, whose switch gets flipped the moment you (accidentally) call him ‘daddy’ in bed. it slipped from your mouth in the heat of the moment and the older man had to stop all movements to stare down at you— the scarred corner of his lip twitching and eventually forming a full on smirk.

not only that: it was like his entire demeanour changed. toji got more arrogant, cocky, confident and especially more dominant ever since then. that slip up of yours was the reason toji decided to let go of any restraints and just fuck you like he was always meant to do: nasty, dirty and roughly.

“yeah? mhh, fuck— say that again f’me, little girl— c’mon. if ya won’t, i’ll pull out and leave y’r cunt empty, so you better hurry up.”

toji, whose libido only increases with age rather than the opposite. you’d think dating an older guy in his mid 30s would mean that he’s going to be less sexually active. well, toji was your living proof that that wasn’t the case.. at all. he gets his dick hard just by seeing a tiny bit of your cleavage, never says ‘no’ to fucking you no matter where or when and has so much stamina that he can go on until you’re passed out. sometimes you’re fucked so full of his cum to the point that it’s impossible to push it all back into you— the white liquid just keeps leaking out of your poor pussy no matter what.

it makes toji super proud whenever you’re passed out on the bed, body still twitching and quivering in your sleep whilst he finishes himself within a few more pumps. he’s proud that he still has it in him and can last way longer compared to you, who’s still young and full of energy.

“aww, poor little baby— fucked ya right to sleep, hm? c’mere.”

toji, whose secret drawer slowly piles up with raunchy pictures of you in all kinds of comprising positions. most of them are images taken from his point of view which he captures between videos. some of them are of your ass with his dick visible between your folds, others are pictures of your fucked out self— the state which toji thinks you look the most beautiful in.

his cum dripping from your cunt, your hair a mess, sweaty skin glistening under the dim light of the room, cheeks stained with your own tears; that afterglow was something toji liked to admire. that’s why keeps those memories in his drawer (but also to masturbate to them when you’re not around, of course).

toji, who’s on cloud nine whenever he gets the chance to drown your fertile womb in multiple loads of his hot cum. he was already over the moon once you told him he could hit it raw— but then you were begging him to cum in you? that man was not going to stop at just one round. that was set in stone.

the mating press is his favourite position since it allowed him to penetrate you deep— pink tip almost painfully hitting your cervix over and over again. toji also likes it because he can get to see your pretty face whenever he shoots ropes of his potent seed inside of your womb.

toji, who’d never admit it out loud, but desperately needs to see you grow a little belly full of a new life. one which you carry with you everywhere— even whilst attending your college lectures. he can’t get the image out of his head; you wearing those skintight shirts or materinity clothes that show off your swollen stomach. he’s gonna be so proud walking next to you on the streets, knowing you’re his baby mama.

“mmh, shit— gnna fuck a baby into you, yeah? haah,, wanna see you carry my child ‘round and have you be my baby mama. hmm, you’d like that? i knew you’d do, slut— i bet everyone at y’r college is gonna know who knocked you up.”

toji, who has dirty fantasies of sharing you with his agent. he’s never thought about it before, but there was one single moment that changed his mind.

shiu visited his place once to discuss a business deal and you coincidentally were over at toji’s as well. you were kind enough to serve the two men a meal while they were discussing something which you didn’t understand. you sat down and joined them anyway (much to shiu’s dismay since it was confidential information he was sharing, but toji insisted you’d stay or he won’t take on the job. he could be petty every now and then.)

toji’s mind began wandering to some dirty thoughts as he looked at you, peacefully sitting between the two men, your fingers playing with toji’s out of boredom. your lover was instantly intrigued by the idea of having you sandwiched between shiu and him—your holes stuffed with two cocks at the same time. or just you sucking toji off while shiu was pounding your tight pussy. that alone made toji’s dick twitch in his pants.

once shiu was gone, toji wasted no time and pinned you against the wall near the front door— kicking his sweatpants and underwear away whilst his calloused fingers pulled your panties to the side;

“c’mere, lemme put that cunt to use— did y’know how close i was to jus’ fuckin’ you right in front of him? to let him see how good of a girl you can be f’me? mhmm, might even call him back so he join us.”

toji, who eats pussy like an absolute madman. he’s obsessed with eating you out and making it messy—his spit and your body fluids are always all over his lips, chin and cheeks when he’s done with you. one moment you’re chilling on the couch in your shorts and in the next you’re arching your back as toji’s head was nestled between your thighs.

he’d moan and grunt against you, his voice creating vibrations against your cunt which only adds to the pleasure that his mouth and tongue were giving you. toji’s nose would rub against your wet folds, his big hands holding your thighs apart while his tongue was lapping up all that it could. he definitely sniffs your pussy as well from time to time;

“mmm— aw, gonna cum already? do it, wanna taste you so bad, wanna see you cum all over my tongue. c’mon, you can do it—mhmmm, yes you can. do it for me, doll. cum for daddy. give it to him.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #toji smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fic #i hope its nasty enough ☹️

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pink-andwhite · 11 months

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ethan landry mocking you >>>

"oh it's too big baby? that's so cute." then proceeds to fuck you harder, making sure to shove that extra inch in there each thrust.

"too much? oh you poor thing.." wraps his hand around your throat and fucks you faster, definitely rubs your clit too.

"you're all done sweetie? that's too bad, im just getting started." proceeds to fuck you through 4 more orgasms.

#these are thot hours #help im not in the mood to write a fic but like i cant help but let a little blurb out #im thirsting over him so bad rn #its not even funny #ethan laundry 4 life #ethan landry is my new obsession thank you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #scream vi smut #scream dialogue

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beardedjoel · 5 months

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pretty little wife | sorry, baby

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 4k words. Joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. His pretty little wife makes it all better. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, free use kink, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship (!! yes), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names for reader, sir kink making a reappearance, bit of fluff mixed in, mention of food/eating, @ GOD WHY ISNT THIS ME a/n: I'M BACK. these two sick lovebirds are back 😭 i needed something sweet to write while working on smother so here's some cute domestic sucking and fucking from my favorite couple MWAH reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Gonna be late again. Sorry baby.

Joel’s hurried text had pinged your phone a few hours ago, and you reassured him it was no problem, of course. You know that his company is contracting on a huge project in downtown Austin right now, and it required a lot of Joel’s attention. He’d been giving so much you were surprised that he had anything left in the tank when he came home to you. But by god, so many nights he sure did, coming home in a frenzy to fuck you, taste you, finding you where you were when he arrived home - cleaning up dishes from dinner, the shower, already curled up in bed with a book on one particularly late night.

You relished in him releasing everything into you - the stress of his day instantly melting with a simple touch of his lips to yours, drinking in your curves and soft skin with rough hands and frenzied yet controlled movements. It always seemed like the more stressed he was, the more he couldn’t get his cock in you fast enough, the more relentless he was in the ways he took care of you. He’d leave you spent, dripping, and aching, letting you talk softly about your day as he stroked your hair afterwards, all sweetness and hushed tones until you two fell asleep.

You peer into the living room from the kitchen to see Joel walking in, looking generally askew and you frown. When his shoes are yanked off and placed in the closet he looks up to see you leaning on the doorframe, lips full and pouting, finger sticking up with a patch of cookie dough stuck to it to taste test. You stand in a long, threadbare t-shirt of his and pink cotton panties, just what Joel had set out for you this morning, and he makes sure to thank his past self for such a wise choice this morning. You’d laughed at the lack of bra or any kind of pants, knowing it was no accident you’d ended up dressed without any bottoms on today. You aim to please, and the look Joel gives you whenever he sees you exactly how he envisioned you for the day always makes your heart soar a little higher.

He finds his way to the couch, sprawling out and giving you an exhausted look. You stick the errant finger into your mouth, sucking the sweet, sugary cookie dough off and licking your lips. Joel’s expression changes quickly, his interest clearly sparked, but the wearisome look doesn’t leave his eyes.

“Baby?” you ask, your brows furrowing further with worry. This wasn’t your husband, this wasn’t Joel, and you always hate to see him have a tough day. It makes your heart ache when he works too hard, gives too much of himself and winds up burnt out. You certainly don’t mind making it all better for him, that’s what you’re here for, after all, but it pains you nonetheless.

“C’mon over here, little wife,” Joel murmurs, running a hand down his weary face. When he pulls it away, he gazes at you with heavy lids before propping his hands behind his head.

You saunter over to him, standing next to where he lays and reaching down to graze your fingers over his stretched bicep, trailing it inwards towards his face. He hums, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment and enjoying the way your gentle fingers work across his cheekbones and through his beard.

His hand slowly moves from behind his head to curve around your waist, drawing you nearer, the front of your knees hitting the side of the couch cushions now. His silent signals are obvious to you at this point, so you don’t waste a moment swinging your leg around his body, tucking it in between his thigh and the back of the couch, settling in to straddle him. A hand runs gently down his chest as you tilt your head, studying his face in concern.

“What’s my husband need from me?” you ask quietly, letting your other hand bury itself in his curls, scratching at his scalp.

Joel lets out a pleasured groan, nearly shuddering at the feeling. “Fuck, baby.” You feel his body shift underneath you, already squirming with the sensation of your fingers doing their work on him. “Make me feel good.”

“Let’s get you more comfortable, then,” you coo, fingers already moving on the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of the top few to let his chest breathe a little bit. You take only a beat to admire the top of his chest poking out, curls of hair sticking out wild and messy before getting to work. You slither down his body, giving yourself enough room to undo his belt before pulling it out of its loops and tossing it aside.

“Lift, please,” you say, keeping up your gentle, soothing tone as Joel’s hips lift off the couch and allow you the space to pull down his dress pants, wriggling them down to his ankles and then over his feet. “Now that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Joel answers, a pleasant little hum from the back of his throat. You can feel how your ministrations have already gotten him hard as it brushes against your center when you settle back on top of his hips. A brief tease of your hips swirling on his sends Joel’s twitching, a sly little smile flashing on his lips. But you’re gone an instant later, moving down the couch and settling next to his feet, sitting crossed legged to face them before taking one into your lap.

“What’s this, now?” Joel asks, a slight tiredness to his voice now.

“Ever heard of a foot rub?” you reply with a lifted brow. He chuckles and you watch his body rumble with the sound.

“Givin’ me mouth today, are we?” he asks playfully, the tired laughter still fading off as he speaks.

“I could,” you retort, pursing your lips and looking up from his feet to find his eyes peeking open, looking down at your delicate, innocuous smile with a plethora of hidden meaning behind it.

“Such a dirty girl…” he murmurs, neatly cut off by the groan he lets out when you press in on one of his arches with your thumb.

“See? I know what you need, baby,” you coo, working your fingers into the tender spots on his foot, being sure to use just the right amount of pressure. You prop his foot in your lap, letting it hang there as you gently rotate his ankle, loosening everything up.

“Christ,” he breathes out as you start on the other foot. His breathing is a little labored, pain and pleasure mixing together as you continue to help his weary soles. You work each foot until he sighs contentedly, a good sign that your work is finished.

At least on his feet, that is. You run your hands teasingly up his thighs, settling them on his hips as you work your way back up his body, hips straddling his again. You lean down and brush your lips against his neck, peering up to watch Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs again. The sound is music to your ears, anytime your husband makes that content, soft little sound you think you’ve reached heaven. You suck and flick little patches all over his neck, starting a slow, steady grind of your hips.

“Oh, pretty girl,” Joel starts, landing a firm hand along your hip. “I can’t today… I’m so fuckin’ beat. You know I’d give anything to fuck my cock into you…” He murmurs the words with a hint of frustration. You know this is hitting Joel harder than he’s letting on, seeing as his singularly focused task most days is to find a way to get himself inside of you.

“Who said anything about you fucking me?” you ask slyly, hands hooking into the sides of his briefs. You watch as Joel’s eyes pop open and look at you mischievously. “You said to make you feel good, so that’s what I’m doing, my darling.” You keep your tone even and calming as you continue with your teasing, deft fingers playing under his waistband.

Joel’s smirk grows and he reaches a hand up to gently pet the back of your head before pulling you to his face, kissing you deeply. “Good girl,” he says as he pulls away, the words falling right onto your own lips. “Doin’ as you’re told.”

You slink lower, getting to the spot you know excites him the most, straddling lower on his legs to bring your mouth down to his clothed cock. You plant small kisses along the obvious bulge and Joel reacts immediately with a small hiss through his teeth. You kiss and lick and suck, letting the fabric tamp enough of the pleasure to drive him crazy.

“God damn it…” he grunts quietly, hips shifting as they spasm up towards your mouth when you suck another spot on the fabric, taking your sweet time, only a small form of torture for Joel. “You tryna make me ask you to pull my cock out and get your pretty mouth on it? Cause you know, once I’m not dead on m’feet I might have to punish you ‘f that’s the case.” His words tumble out slow and thick with his accent - that Southern drawl always comes out more when he’s tired and mumbling.

Your mouth curls deviously and you lick your lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply in a low lilt.

“Mhm…” Joel teases, but you heed his warning anyhow, tugging his briefs down to free his cock, nearly enraged as it throbs and drips precum from the way you’d already been working on it. Your tongue finds the salty fluid at his head, lapping it with just the tip of your tongue and swirling it around. You start to practically nuzzle it, catching his cock in the corners of your lips, letting your tongue get a few tiny kitten licks on his shaft as you rub it along your cheeks. The smooth skin glides along your face and you start to get messier with it, letting his cock start to spread his precum and your saliva along your cheeks as you let the flat of your tongue run along it.

Joel lets out a loud, long groan, fingers gripping deep into the couch cushion. He can barely contain himself as your tongue licks a thick stripe up underneath his length, tracing the most prominent vein. His hips stutter forward as he gives himself to the moment.

“God damn, honey…” he whimpers quietly, eyes shutting in the bliss of the moment.

Your hands rub his thighs gently, kneading into them as you start to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time until he’s at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, a little noise coming out of you, sending Joel’s hand flying to the back of your head, his gaze watching the way his cock disappears inside of your warm mouth.

“That’s it, choke on it like I like, pretty girl…” Joel mumbles, eyes rolling back a little as his cock fills your mouth. “My pretty wife…” he whispers with a reverence and respect, despite the degrading way he’s about to fuck your mouth.

You move with a little more urgency, your mouth stuffed and aching already, one hand coming up to grip the base of Joel’s cock and stroking there while your mouth works on him. Joel’s hand pushes down on your head, sending you a little further and you sputter, spit flying all around his cock and lap but it doesn’t deter you. His hips start to move of their own accord into you, matching the rhythm of your mouth pumping on him. Your body gets hot and desperate for him, your praise loving nature alight just by seeing how much he loves the way you pleasure him. Your thighs wriggle as your cunt aches and drips now, begging you for relief that you know will have to wait.

“God, fuck,” he cries out, “Needed this…” Joel seems to be practically revived, a new energy filling his weary body as he grunts and pants, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in faster strokes now. You can sense how close he is, you know your husband’s body like the back of your hand now, his balls tightening and cock getting even harder on your tongue.

He grunts with the effort of sitting forward, yanking your head off of his cock and swiftly sliding his hands to your waist, hauling your entire body upwards so that your hips are above his.

“Need this needy little cunt, look how soaked you are,” Joel coos with a genuine pity for you as he sees the wet stain on your panties.. His fingers tear your underwear to the side, giving enough room for his cock to position itself at your weeping entrance, giving you no time to even process it before he forces your hips to bear down on him.

You cry out in a long, wanting moan as he fills you up, the stretch of him burning in that familiar way that you love and crave so much. Joel is an addiction - your husband the one thing in life you could never get enough of, never filling you enough, never fucking you full and deep enough times that you’re fulfilled. He never fails to leave you satisfied, of course, but you’re always wanting more in the next moment, practically wishing you could live just like this - his cock stuffing you and stretching your pussy to its limits, sending that pain you live for deep inside of you until it turns to the most blinding pleasure. Gratitude overtakes you as you sink down completely, whispering out a fervent thank you as you feel yourself clench around him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Joel reaches to your chin, pulling your head to look down at him.

“What was that?” he asks teasingly, rutting his hips up into your as he speaks. You shudder again, pussy clenching around him as you feel his length pressing against your walls.

“T-thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, sir…” You’re unable to say anything else, only look at him with half-lidded eyes and cry out wantonly when he pushes all the way in again, seating himself inside of you only to lift your hips up and do it all over again.

“Yeah… knew bein’ stuffed full of my cock would make you my polite girl again,” Joel says arrogantly, sending a fresh wave of arousal right between your legs, gushing around his girth. You nod, blinking down at him, rolling your hips and chasing your pleasure. You lean down a little closer to Joel, bringing your chest more flush with his, the change in angle devastating the both of you.

“So fuckin’ full of me,” Joel whispers in your ear, taking it upon himself to bend his legs and start fucking up into you. You moan in his ear, tears springing to your eyes as you feel him close to your cervix, each deep thrust sinfully delicious and bordering on painful in the way that makes your skin tingle in the best way. You want to be used, you want him as deep as he can possibly go, to feel you entirely wrapped around him.

Joel grunts, hot breath fanning next to your ear as he holds you close. Your bodies are intermingling with sweat now, your ass slapping down onto his thighs reverberating through the quiet living room. It’s just this - the two of you, your shared breath, your intertwined bodies, nothing else matters or even registers to you now. Joel’s hips shift the slightest bit in angle and you cry out, your g-spot now overstimulated with attention as Joel’s cock pounds into you harder, brushing the spongy spot with each new movement into you.

You pant, clutching onto him and digging your manicured nails into his shoulder, scratching them along to his neck where you hang on for dear life.

“Fuck…” you murmur, feeling your body tensing, legs like jello as they shake on either side of Joel’s thighs. “Let me come, p-please, sir,” you whimper, holding back with every ounce of strength you have as the tingling warmth spreads, heat in your belly threatening to burst at any second.

“Hang on f’me, baby, fuck, n-not yet,” Joel replies in a huff, clearly close to that high himself. “Wanna fill you up right when you’re comin’ so pretty f’me.”

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back as your body screams at you with need. This wasn’t the first time Joel had you hold back your climax, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier. You whimper, nearing a sob as Joel thrusts into you, your hips rolling and stuttering into his movements. “Please… sir…” you cry.

Joel grunts out a stern no and continues to slam his hips into yours, growing harsher by the second. You’re a whimpering wreck, your body nearly about to betray you as Joel hits your g-spot again. Tears leak from your eyes with the psychological effort of holding back, but you know it’ll be worth it. It always is.

“Now,” Joel says simply, “Come for me, little doll,” he adds, finishing the sentence with a grunt as you start to lose control, feeling like a dam inside of you is bursting, all the pleasure rolling over you in dazzling waves. You flutter around Joel’s cock almost as hard as you ever have, squeezing his length as he lets out a small whimper himself. Your breathy moans right in his ear send goosebumps along his whole body despite how stifling the air is surrounding you two.

“Fuck…” he moans, his hips jerking a few times before he starts to spill himself into you. You continue to shake, pulling every last drop from him as you ride out your own high, Joel’s name rolling off your tongue as you moan.

“God, yeah…” you whimper out, finally collapsing onto Joel’s chest as his legs go limp underneath you. You both lay in silence, chests heaving and small smiles on your faces. Joel strokes the back of your head and your smile grows. Neither of you seem set on moving, the combination of both of your climaxes a slick mess between the two of you as you settle into a more steady rhythm of breathing.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles out the noise. “How’s my pretty little wife today, hm?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing down your cheeks to your lips.

“You’re late to ask,” you tease him with a laugh, typically hearing that question before anything else when he gets home. He uses his free hand to squeeze your ass cheek in warning at your bratiness and you grin. “But better now,” you answer in the familiar response to your favorite question from him.

“Thought so,” Joel says wryly, giving you ass a lazy pat before kissing the side of your head. He’s quiet for a few moments before lifting your hips off of his, your body immediately missing the sweet fullness of him as you both sit up. Joel brings your legs over his and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling like the most natural fit in the world.

“‘M sorry about all this, baby - all the late nights and bein’ stressed and probably bein’ a grouch,” Joel says, his voice laden with guilt. He circles on your bare thigh with his fingers and you shudder a little, snuggling further into him. One of your hands wraps around his cheek, turning his head to meet your eye line and you give him a soft smile.

“You think you just now started being a grouch?” you joke, knowing you’re pushing your limits on how much bratiness Joel will tolerate in one day before things escalate.

He growls deep in his throat and you giggle softly, scratching your fingers through his hair. “Thin ice, baby…” he murmurs.

“I love my grumpy husband,” you say sweetly, fingers moving down to run through his rough beard. “It’s okay though, Joel. Promise. I just miss you, but this busy and crazy time will pass like it always does, right? In the mean time...” you lower your voice, a finger trailing from his cheek to his neck and down his chest. “We can just do that anytime you need it.”

Joel chuckles, giving your entire body a squeeze against him. “That’s my good girl. Always ready f’me.” You smile into his chest at his praise before he continues. “We’ll do somethin’ this weekend, the two of us an’ spend some time together, mkay? Make up for all this bullshit.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest and your stomach flutter a little at the idea. Joel has typically been pretty good about planning dates over the years, but you know that it’s been hard with his extra workload lately, so you’ve been missing the romantic evenings he’d plan for you two. You’d tried to ask about planning one yourself, and Joel shut you down immediately in the sweetest way possible, claiming the responsibility fully for himself to do that for you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you reply excitedly, hugging him close.

“‘S a date then,” Joel confirms, leaning his head back onto the couch while you stay resting on his shoulder. You both fall into a comfortable quiet again, Joel’s breathing steadying as he dozes off.

“Do you want a cookie?” you ask into the silence, sitting up. Joel’s eyes creak open from where he’d been resting them and he glances down at you with furrowed brows.

“That s’posed to be some kind of euphemism, darlin’?” he asks groggily. You laugh, throwing your head back a little and shuffling yourself to sit up on the edge of the couch.

“Could be,” you giggle, “Real cookies this time, though. You can even sneak one before dinner.”

Joel perks up a little, eyes opening a bit more. “Chocolate chip?” he asks, a boyish glint in his gaze.

“Of course,” you nod, and Joel smiles tiredly, sitting up to join you on the edge of the couch.

“You know you’re the best wife?” Joel says, nudging you with his shoulder and leaning over for a quick peck on your cheek before standing up and pulling his pants back on. He moans and groans while he twists his back and stretches his arms over his head for a few moments, and you know his knees must be flaring up as they do when he’s more stressed.

“Just one,” you warn Joel as you see him making his way to the kitchen trying to look like some kind of master sleuther on the hunt for fresh baked cookies. “I’m making dinner soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel tosses over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. When you make your way to the kitchen, you watch him take a bite off of a cookie from the cooling rack and you stand with crossed arms, admiring him. His eyes look you up and down with a similar appreciation, landing between your legs where he sees your underwear completely soaked and stained from your recent rendezvous. He smirks as he chews, stepping towards you.

“An’ don’t you dare think about changing your underwear,” he says in a low rumble, eyes flicking all over your face as he gets close to read if you’re going to keep up your bratty streak today. Instead, you give him a docile little upturn of your lips - he’s been through enough today - and brush past him to start working on dinner.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#sorry for the wait i know its been ages #fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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kithtaehyung · 6 months

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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?”

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.”

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?”

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?”

“I was.”

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?”

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.

It’s just not the right time.

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.”

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.”

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.

All the words around you just as speechless.

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried.

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.

And a little bit of summer rain.

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight.

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next.

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence.

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?

Shit.

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.

Why can’t he fucking move?

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook?

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.”

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?”

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.”

“Nah, come now.”

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out.

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.”

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.”

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.”

“Shit, I know.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Dude, relax, I get it.”

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.”

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous.

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend.

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.

Dumbass: Incoming Call

Of fucking course.

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.”

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.”

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.”

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.

“Everything, Yoong.”

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.

So, so far away.

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.”

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.

“How did that sound?”

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?”

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.”

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.”

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?”

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.”

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in.

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.”

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.”

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to.

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it.

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,

“Do the chorus again.”

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?”

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.”

Done. He said it.

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”

Huh. They’re gonna take that?

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.

“Let’s see how it sounds.”

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else.

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it.

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!”

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies.

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen.

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain.

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later.

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag.

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.”

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.”

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him.

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.”

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.”

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.”

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.

“If there’s something you need to get through...”

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot.

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine.

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister.

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years.

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa.

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What.

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck!

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down.

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that.

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.”

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true.

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?”

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…”

“No?”

Just hurry up and fucking do it.

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...”

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.”

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed.

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.

His ex?

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.”

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem.

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.”

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.”

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly.

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.”

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..”

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,

“I think she feels all alone.”

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.”

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.”

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal…

Unprecedented.

“You’re the best out of all of us.”

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence.

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.”

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s over now.”

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.”

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.”

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.”

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.

Get rid of it? He’s been trying.

For three. Fucking. Months.

“I might.”

“…K.”

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it.

What time is it?

All that greets him is darkness.

Nothing new, but darkness all the same.

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend.

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired.

And the darkness pulls him back under.

Without even telling him the time.

Buzzing.

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages

Chim: 7 Messages

Chim: Missed Calls (3)

Holy fuck.

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.

“Oh, fuck. There you are.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—”

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake.

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?”

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest.

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.”

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.”

“He told you?”

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.”

“Ah.”

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?”

“That it’s done.”

A hum.

“That’s very true.”

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?”

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?”

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.”

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.”

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Knowing the answer.”

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!”

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.”

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.”

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”

“K. Same time tomorrow?”

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.”

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?”

“Relax! You will like it.”

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up.

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day.

That sounds like fucking bliss.

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today.

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help.

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too.

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.

After all this time. All these days and nights.

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left.

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.

Something that isn’t broken.

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.

What. No way.

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.

Hustler: Incoming Call

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.

“Are we… is this over?”

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?”

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.”

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.”

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.

“Are you? With me?”

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,

“No way in hell, doll.”

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned.

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”

That’s okay.

Because he’s had a day, too.

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.”

Please keep going.

Please don’t leave him alone.

“Talk to me.”

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.

You’re so good at that.

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—”

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is.

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.

“What did he say?”

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.”

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.”

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.”

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.”

“What are you still talking to me for?”

“I miss you.”

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.”

“Why?”

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?”

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.”

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.”

“Ha ha.”

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout?

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.”

“Wait, huh? Why!”

“Nothing.”

“I swear to god—”

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?”

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”

“Kitchen.”

The hell? “How’d you know?”

“You’re always in there.”

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.”

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?”

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.

“The world said let them cook.”

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks.

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.”

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue.

Because of you. It’s always you.

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.”

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night.

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.

Right towards the corner that stares back.

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange.

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you.

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.

This is so hard.

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :)

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio.

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man.

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped.

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.

“Hey.”

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers.

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.”

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.”

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.”

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.”

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.”

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.”

“Do better.”

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.”

“What? Who said anything about dessert?”

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to—

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.”

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.

“Mm, babe. One more thing.”

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.”

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness.

And you want that to be the case forever.

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.”

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”

“Damn!”

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.”

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.”

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again.

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned.

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!”

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.”

“You could’ve asked somebody.”

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…”

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?”

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too.

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.”

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.”

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—”

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.”

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.”

“Just a bite then.”

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.”

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?”

“Everything.”

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.”

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.”

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.”

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.”

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?”

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.

“…Yeah.”

Fuck. “About what?”

“That you’d hate me.”

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.”

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.”

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.”

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..”

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.”

“You do?”

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.”

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers.

“Hmm?”

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.

“Always, doll.”

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.”

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time.

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?”

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever.

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.”

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face.

What is it with him and keys?

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.”

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right?

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours.

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over!

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.”

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here.

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before.

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here.

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there.

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.”

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.”

“Good. You bored?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man.

“Forever might be a stretch.”

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.”

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.”

“It was kinda hot.”

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.”

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.”

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.”

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.”

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.”

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.”

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?”

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.”

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.”

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is.

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet.

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them?

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys?

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here.

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.”

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!”

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start?

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?”

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.”

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!”

Ah, you were right. “I like it.”

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?”

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.”

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.”

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.”

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest.

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long.

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.

All you can do is stare back.

And without even realizing.

You’re already rubbing your arm.

tbc. :((

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics:#*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

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simplyender · 10 months

Text

Can you tell I've leveled up my game?

#the spot #spot #atsv #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv spoilers #gifs #miles morales #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #(briefly)#my edits #gifset #johnathon ohnn #free to use id like credit unless its a smut fic then by all means take the gifs and dont mention me #tw flashing #just bc some of these move p fast

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hungharrington · 3 days

Text

i feel it coming, babe

technically the sequel to a little less conversation this is yet another piece for girlies (gn) with bad sex experiences <3 remember sometimes it takes more than once to get it right honeys :D 12k words, fem!reader, MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

Okay so, you’ll admit, you might be beginning to get it.

A smidge. A pinch.

It’s just— well, how are you not supposed to understand it? How can you not get the thrill and fervour over sex when it’s with Steve and he looks like that. All golden tan skin and hazel eyes that look at you like he might eat you whole and— and he treats you like…

Like there was never anything wrong with you.

Even after that balmy afternoon spent in his sheets, with his mouth between your thighs, pulling noises out of you that you’d never even heard before, he’s been so perfectly so. Not pushy, yet still that lingering hunger you can see simmering beneath his skin, hidden in the flex of his fingers.

Part of you almost worries, a little niggle burrowed in the back of your mind, that it was all a fluke.

That nothing had really changed all that much between you— that the next time things start getting heated, the chemistry won’t be there. Or it’ll be weird and off, or you will be, and really, you were probably lucky to have that first time with Steve so good but you can’t expect that again.

But then… there is one difference at least, to combat all your swarming thoughts a fluke. The kisses.

When you think of Steve Harrington and his playboy past, you can’t say, of the words tossed around in the high school corridor, that clingy is something that comes to mind. Not that he had been described as anything other than charming… but you don’t mind pleasant surprise of coming to learn this about Steve.

It means kisses all the time.

On your hands, scattered across your knuckles, when he’s dropping you home from a date. Kisses pressed to your hair and forehead, when he’s scooching past you, when he’s saying hello and his hands are busy, when you sit between his legs on the sofa.

He kisses your shoulders, up along the curve of your neck just to see if it’ll still make you laugh a bit when he finds that ticklish spot beneath your ear. Adores sweeping back your hair to plant a kiss against your skin with the sweetest little ‘mwah!’ so quiet you don’t think you’re meant to hear it.

And your lips… you don’t think they’ve ever been so kiss-bitten in your life.

One night with Steve can leave them blooming with colour, all the blood beneath them rushing with pleasure as he kisses your mouth soft — sometimes hard, sometimes sweet, always maddeningly.

He greets you with a kiss always, one hand curled gently around your chin to tilt it up perfectly. And always after, a grin spreads across his face, brown eyes crinkling and pink lips barely restrained his joy.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He’ll always says, or some variation.

Which, yeah, that’s new too. Sweetheart. You haven’t quite figured out how to not melt to a gloopy gooey mess when he says it just yet. It’s a damn good thing that your boyfriend is a gentleman and he politely doesn’t comment when you fluster, only gets the smallest hint of a smirk.

For all your past worries about not kissing him for fear of leading him on, you hadn’t realise quite how much you were depriving yourself of affection. Steve’s certainly turning you greedy— and he’s all too happy to sate your appetite for it.

Today, it’s drizzly. The colour of the sky is a bright ashen grey, enough to warrant a headache and inspire a day inside. In the distance, you can see the thunder clouds rolling in and bringing a blanket of shadow with them.

They reach overhead much quicker than you’re expecting and you’re barely a block out from Steve's house before the rain starts coming down.

Try as you might, raincoat tucked tight around you, you’re still a bit drenched by the time you make it to Steve’s doorstep. One freezing finger presses the door bell. A chime sounds inside.

You rub your hands together to try warm them as you wait, cringing at the whisk of wind that twirls your hair up and about. Your hands shoot up and you nervously flatten the wild strands back down— right as Steve opens the door.

He’s got a towel around his neck, one hand scrubbing it into his wet hair. Judging from his ruffled t-shirt — put on in a rush and exposing his tummy — he’s just got out the shower. He looks surprised but happy to see you.

“Sweetheart, hi-hoooooly shit,” He sticks his head out the door, eyes wide as he takes in the weather. His hair flicks as he turns back to you. “Did you walk the whole way from your house? In the rain?”

Your shoulders form a meek shrug. Before you can speak, his hands are on your shoulders, tugging you inside, across the doorway. He kicks it shut behind you.

“Christ, honey, what’d you do that for?” His hands fret a little bit, rubbing at your shoulders. He gently picks a piece of hair that’s stuck to your cheek, placing it behind your ear.

“I mean,” You start, a little confused. Your hands tighten on your overnight bag, wringing the handle tightly. He knew you were coming over, right? “I thought we— on the phone, we made a plan?”

Steve breathes a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got plans. But I would’ve come got you instead of making you walk through the rain. C’mon, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

His use of the word boyfriend still makes you glow. You smile, nope, you grin all cheesy — and it doesn’t help at all when Steve’s hands trail down your jacket to hold your own. He wiggles the handles of your bag out from your frozen fingers and drops it behind him gently. His hands dart back to cover yours.

“Dear god, I think you’re about two minutes from losing a finger.” His eyebrows have scrunched together in worry. He brings your hands up to his face, cupped in his own, and blows hot air on them. It tickles but you can’t stop smiling.

He pulls them back, rubbing his thumbs over your icy fingers and peers down at them. Your heart coos at his concern.

“What’s the verdict doctor?” You jest, making your voice all breathy and dramatic. “Am I gonna make it?”

Steve frowns harder at your hands, his face serious when he tilts it back up to face you. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to amputate.”

You gasp dramatically.

Steve grins. He runs over your hands once more, one of his fingers creeping up your wrist, trying to find a ticklish spot. You squeal a little, trying to pull back but he holds your hands firm in his own. He continues his serious voice.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but it’s your whole arm. We’re gonna have to chop it right off.”

His fingers are half way up your sleeve, making it bunch up and you’re laughing so much it’s warming you up much faster than him blowing on your hands. You push his hand away playfully and Steve relents, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, you got me.” He grins. “I’m not a real doctor.”

You laugh again, reaching up to tuck back your hair that’s fallen forward in your squirming. “Uh huh, a real doofus is what you are.”

Steve rolls his eyes endearingly, his hands reaching out to snag your waist this time. He tugs you closer. Your feet stumble and when you press against his chest, you’re delighted to find he’s very, very warm. You're definitely soaking his shirt a bit with your coat but if Steve cares, he doesn't say.

“Just realised I didn’t properly say hello,” He murmurs, a little quieter than before.

And when one of his hands moves up and curls beneath your jaw, holding your chin gently, you know what’s coming. If you weren’t already holding your breath in anticipation, he probably would’ve stolen it with his kiss.

His plush lips are soft and with a loving little hum, he kisses you.

All the lights around you look a little dewey and heart-shaped when Steve pulls back — though it may be just your own lovey-dovey eyes. You sigh without meaning to, all honeyed and sweet, and Steve softens immeasurably at the sound.

“Okay,” He shifts his hands back down to your hands, rubbing them lightly. “I’m not kidding, even your lips feel frozen. D’ya wanna take a quick shower just to warm up?”

Something about you flushes at his suggestion— a runaway thought about getting in his shower, it getting steamier and steamier, especially with Steve slipping in to join you halfway. You clear your throat to push away the thought and focus.

Your hair is wetter than you’d expected, sticking to your neck in cold tendrils. A shiver zips down your spine. All your scandalous thoughts aside, it sounds like a pretty good idea.

“Yeah,” you nod gingerly. “Yeah, okay, it wouldn’t mind the warm up.”

Steve steps back, bending down to scoop up your bag deftly. He holds it for you as you unbutton your coat as quick as you can with your frozen fingers, shivering in relief as you shed the drenched layer. Droplets of rain spray in the rustle. Your coat finds a home on a peg beside the door.

It’s comforting how easy it is to follow Steve up the stairs, drinking in his cosy attire from behind— gone are his usual tight fitting jeans. Instead, he’s donned what you guess is his pyjamas; a plain ringer tee and red, plaid, and long flannelette pants. His feet are warmed by fluffy socks that have reindeer prancing about the fabric. A flash of his tan ankle makes you stumble for a moment.

Steve trades your overnight bag, with a smile and a promise to keep it safe, for a pillowy white towel, soft as ever. He leads you into the bathroom off his bedroom, depositing your bag on his bed along the way.

His fingers find the switch for the heated towel rail and while you fold the towel over it neatly, heart humming in content at being taken care of, Steve starts the shower. He sticks one hand in, holding it under the spray and grimacing at the cold— until the chill slips away beneath the steamy hot water.

“Alright,” Steve says, pulling his hand back. He gives it a little shake, droplets splattering on the tiles. “All ready for my best girl.“

He gives a cheesy and charismatic smile as he wipes his hand dry and if you were brave enough, you might give him a little thank you kiss for it. You aren’t just yet — but when he moves to slip by you, you halt him with a soft hand on his torso.

“Thank you.” you say, quieter than you intend. You push on the balls of your feet and plant a quick peck onto his cheek.

Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch. Steve looks like he melts a bit, lashes fluttering as he sucks in a sharp inhale. Turns out neither of you are getting any closer to getting used to the affection. It’s sweet to know it goes both ways.

“I’m gonna—“ Steve breathes, his hand drifting up, his index finger pointed out to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Or if you fall. Just like, uh, yell- or scream. Or— you know what, you’ve taken a shower before.”

He stumbles out towards the exit, pulling two awkward thumbs-up over his shoulders. The door swings shut behind him, closing with a quiet click.

Your clothes pool to the ground, a trail leading towards the shower as you move with haste. Though you’re sure the Harrington's won’t notice, you don’t want to waste the hot water.

The heat soothes you— swathes of relief washing down your body, picking up every piece of ice in your skin and sending it swirling down the drain. It doesn’t take too long to get back to warm and toasty.

Still, when your eye catches on it, you can’t resist. Steve has a body wash that smells heavenly. You pick it up, flick back the cap, and take a whiff — just to check it’s the one that’s been infiltrating your very dreams. Steve, even on a daily basis, manages to smell so good it drives you close to delirium.

You’re more than happy to steal it for yourself today. You take another sniff of the bottle in your grasp, just to inhale it with a sigh. The sweater he let you borrow the other week has the exact same smell; a musky perfumed scent, with a hint of bergamot.

You dollop some in your hand and lather it all over. Properly cleansed and throughly warmed up, you let the final suds whirlpool down the drain before shutting the tap off and stepping out. The fluffy porcelain coloured towel is toasty in your hands as you pluck it off the rail. A sigh in appreciation comes out as you dry off, twisting it around yourself.

It’s as you stand there, refreshed and smelling of Steve, in just a towel, do you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in clothes to change into.

On his bed, Steve sits idle — because what else is Steve supposed to do when you’re in his shower? When you’re naked in his shower. Naked in his shower and probably using his soap and lathering it up down your body and on your boobs and— oh my god, soapy boobs and—

Steve’s pulls himself from his thoughts with a rapid shake of his head, just in time for the bathroom door to rattle open and your shining face to peek through.

You look a little flushed, maybe from the heat, or from the lack of clothing. Steve can see your bare shoulder, his eyes tracking a drop as it rolls down your collarbone. None of this helps his runaway thoughts.

He stands up without thought. Then he realises how strange he might look, like a dog standing to attention.

“Feeling boober?” Steve says, like an idiot. Heat floods his face as he realises his flub. “BETTER! Are you feeling better?”

He’s thankful that you at least laugh, a pretty sound that you tuck behind your hand. You have the nerve to wiggle your eyebrows at him, a far cry from the confidence he’s come to expect from you in the past. Steve can’t deny— he adores it.

“What are you thinking about?”

“God,” Steve groans. He shoves his face into his hands and turns around, his back to you. His words are muffled over his shoulder. “Don’t even ask me that right now.”

Another laugh titters out of you. Steve can’t resist peering over his shoulder. The steam curls out through the gap of the door, leaving dew on your skin. You look ethereal, like a dewy angel from a dream.

“Alright,” you relent playfully. You’re fighting a smile and losing, badly. Steve yearns. “Can you please pass me my bag?”

This next time the door opens again and you step out, there’s less tantalising skin to tease Steve and his wandering mind. There’s still a flash of wet skin, the curve between your shoulder and neck. Steve wants to lick it, kiss it, devour it til the skin beneath is riddled with the bruises of a lover.

For a moment, you’re simply admired — Steve’s eyes on you, adoring and soft, as you creep out the bathroom like you don’t want to make too much noise.

You notice in your absence Steve has cajoled a little tray table into his room, tucked up at the foot of his bed. Atop it sits a chunky television, antennae sticking up in perfectly straight lines. The ones at home on yours are slightly warped from all the readjusting.

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s on the bed this time, and while he doesn’t get up this time, he sits up straighter as you emerge from the bathroom. You put your bag down, abandoning it by the door and try to quell your nerves.

Steve, unless he’s somehow obtained x-ray vision and hadn’t told you, can’t see the nice matching set you’ve got beneath your comfy clothes.

He won’t see it— unless this night goes where you think it might, where you hope it might, but even still, the thought manages to make you fluster.

“Hi.” You say back, voice closer to a whisper.

The bed sinks beneath your weight as you climb on to situate yourself beside Steve. He’s all soft corners and crinkled eyes, his arm raised up in an instant for you to tuck yourself under. Even warmer in his arms, your heart delights when he gives you a little squeeze.

“Alright, movie time!” The television at the foot of the bed pulls Steve away from you. He unwinds his arm enough to crawl down the bed. The grey ringer shirt he has one slips forward a bit and at your angle, you can catch more than a sliver of his tan tummy.

Without thinking, your thighs press together tightly as heat flares between them. You can trace the alluring wiry trail of hair with your eyes until it disappears into his pyjama pants, continuing out of sight. A part of your wants.

You want to see where it goes, want to curl your fingers into his waistband and work it downwards, you want find out if the moles go all the way down his thighs like you hope they do.

Hunger sinks its teeth into your skin; a hunger you’ve been getting more and more familiar with.

“Okay, pervert,” Steve’s cheeky remark shakes you from your thoughts and you start to stammer. He’s clearly caught you staring. “Can’t say I blame you for ogling—“

“I was not—“

“— because I have been told before that I have a very distracting and attractive behind.”

You sputter and despite your best efforts, a little laugh splutters through as well because well, yeah, he’s not wrong — but your brain is stuck on repeat with something else entirely.

Tummy, tummy, tummy, the hair on his tummy, the hair leading down into his pants.

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, Harrington,” You slump back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, clearly teasing. “If you say so.”

The television flickers to life right as Steve lunges back towards you with all the energy of a labrador puppy. He squishes down onto you so quickly that you actually squeal in surprise.

“Oh, I’m back to just Harrington now?” He pouts, squeezing even closer to you. You’re laughing, flattened beneath him in a way that you can’t even wiggle your arms out. He’s draped across you dramatically. You trust him completely.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“I thought my name was,” He leans closer and kisses your neck. “Boyfriend. Or baby. Orrrrrr,”

He kisses up your neck and onto your cheek. His hazel eyes are bright, crinkled in his grin so much that his lashes kiss in the corner. He kisses your nose. “Handsome.”

“Mmmhm,” you revel in the never-ending affection, glowing from the inside with happiness. You wiggle your arms to make Steve push himself up, just enough to free them from being smothered against your chest. Free to roam, your hands find the sides of his face.

“What about…” You begin. Steve watches you closely, evidently gleeful from the touchiness of your hands. He pushes into your palm, turning to kiss it fast. “My snookums.”

You exaggerate the word, your voice going all sugary to butter it up. You watch as emotions ripple across Steve’s face— the twitch in his nose as he tries not to outright frown at you. How polite he is.

It’s only as he catches the grin spreading across your face, wicked and just loving watching him squirm at the terrible pet-name, does he catch on to your jest. A sigh of relief and a chuckle whooshes out of him at once.

“Oh, thank God you’re joking.” He drops all his weight into your waiting hands, grinning when you let his face flops forward into your chest. His words are completely muffled as he speaks into your chest. “That could’ve been serious grounds for a breakup.”

You huff a laugh and nudge him up best you can. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. Your movie is starting.”

Steve’s head pops up, his head twisting back towards the television like he had forgotten about its existence until you had mentioned it.

“Oh true,” He says. He pushes up off you to sit himself up, shuffling back so instead you can lean on him. Re-situating his arms around you, Steve hums absentmindedly as he throws a leg over you, tangling it with yours. Thoroughly intertwined, you both sink back into the pillows.

The credits roll up and off the screen, the first five minutes of the film whisked away while you and Steve were settling down. Now, the opening scene begins, the grainy picture on the screen buzzing as it plays the VHS.

You get approximately two minutes of silence, your and Steve’s heads turned towards the television, until distraction kicks in.

You do your best to ignore it as his head turns towards you, your eyes still focused on the screen, but all your attention runs to Steve. He nudges a little closer to you, his nose pressing into your temple and right as you realise he’s smelling you, he says—

“Did you use my body wash?”

You freeze.

“I— was I not supposed to?” Your voice comes out a bit weaker than intended.

Steve lets out a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, only worrying you further. He starts to shift around a bit, retracting his leg back an inch, his nose no longer nudging close along your temple; all actions that contrast his assuring words.

“No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine—“ Despite his words, he shifts again. His hips shuffle backward, one of his hands moving down subtlety as he can to fuss with his pyjama pants.

It takes about two more seconds for you to get it — clued in by Steve’s suddenly scarlet cheeks and his embarrassed expression.

Your mouth drops open a bit unwittingly.

“Are you—“

“Yes.” Steve grates out. He abandons fixing the growing tent in his pants to cover his face with his hands, rolling slightly away from you. You can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him. His words are slightly muffled from behind his palms.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t even realise that was something that got me going until, like, right this second.”

It’s adorable that he’s so flustered and that he’s apologising. You’ve never had that happen before. You’ve never had someone so conscious of how it might seem— never someone like Steve who doesn’t seem to come with any expectations.

A thread of relief jolts through you. It reaffirms what you already know; anything you want to do will be done on your terms.

And with his eyes covered up, if you glance down at his pants for good hard look…. well, that’s between you and the universe.

“Steve,” your fingers curl around one of his wrists, tugging it gently. You try to coax his face out of hiding, your smile somewhere between giggly and endeared. “It’s— it’s okay, really, you don’t have to apologise. I— I mean, I’m honestly flattered.”

Steve deflates a bit, torn between relief and his still persistent concern. He had made a committed plan that he wouldn’t make any moves until you initiated it first and yet, here he was, like every other male in Hawkins. Popping a boner the moment you settle down to innocently cuddle. God, he’s the worst!

A pout forms on his lips. He wishes he could rewind the last 2 minutes and spend the whole movie holding his breath.

“What is it about the body wash?”

Your question takes him by surprise, given the way his other hand drops off from covering his face. He blinks up at you, cheeks still with a hint of cherry red.

“I- I dunno.” He admits. “Like I said I didn’t even realise that…”

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again. He clears his throat. “That would have that effect on me.”

Something within you preens, a fire stoked by his honest admission; a zing shooting down your spine because you don’t think you will ever get used to hearing how Steve wants you.

“Well,” you begin, the word more timid than you hoped it would be. You clear your throat and cast a glance at the television, feigning casualness. “If I was the cause…”

You let your hand come up, brushing across his warm tummy. Look up at him through your lashes, hoping, praying it looks sexier than you’re feeling— which is somewhere between flustered and foolish.

Still, Steve’s throat bobs. You watch his eyes dart down to your lingering hand, an inch or so above his waistband.

“Maybe, I can be the remedy.”

A tiny groan scrapes out of Steve’s throat, like he would love nothing more. Even so, he pins you with a sincere look, hazel eyes burning into yours.

“You don’t have to do that.” He assures you. “I mean—“ He coughs awkwardly. “It will go away, uh, in time.”

“I’m aware how it works, Steve.”

“Oh, are you?” Steve jokes— laughing when you wallop him in the chest. He grabs your hand, stopping your assault mid-motion with a cheeky smile. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that.”

He releases your hand and you let it fall onto his chest. Nerves prickle beneath your skin but with them is something new, something you’ve only gained since your time with Steve; anticipation.

Steeling your anxiety, you let your hand trail down his chest slowly— enough time that he could halt you before you embarrassed yourself. But he doesn’t. Steve watches you closely, his chest rising and falling a bit harder as your hand nears his waistband.

This time, you don’t stop. You let your fingers brush over the tented fabric hesitantly, torn between wanting to watch your hand or to see his face. As confidently as you can, you palm across his bulge— feeling the heat of his hard length thickening up under your hand.

Steve groans lowly.

You look up at him as you rub him softly, taking in his large pupils and pink lips. He’s watching you too, his eyes darting between your face and the hand on his cock.

“Is this okay?” You check. The movie crackles on in the background, idle noise. Steve nods quickly, a curl of his hair falling down onto his forehead.

“Yeah,” He says, voice breathier than it was a minute ago. You try out a harder rub, beginning to feel out the shape of his cock, and you curl your fingers around it. Steve groans again, a little bit louder, his eyelashes fluttering.

Still, he composes himself enough to ask, “Is this okay for you?”

“Hmmm,” you draw out the noise, the smile on your face giving away your faux-thinking. You squeeze him again, right as you murmur, “Maybe make that noise again and I’ll see.”

But any noise he makes is captured in your mouth as he surges forward, one of his hands curling up under your jaw. His fingers slide into your hair and his lips are sweet and soft, hungry for more against your own.

You can’t help but melt under his kisses, body relaxing into the sheets as you let yourself be kissed breathlessly. A warmth pools deep within your chest, drooling down into your stomach. Anticipations sinks in. Your thighs rub together.

Losing the nerve and the focus, your hand slips up to cup at Steve’s hip— but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes it as a cue to press forward, leaning his weight onto on his elbows to hold his weight as he shifts up, his lips never leaving yours.

It’s one smooth motion, the way he slips a leg between your own, his body held up and hovering above yours. He kisses, slow and languid. You ache. Your lips haven’t ever been so kissed before.

It isn’t until his thigh shifts up and presses just right do you notice it properly — unable to swallow your shallow gasp, lips halting against Steve’s as a bolt of pleasure blooms deep in your gut. Your eyelashes flutter, a shadow of embarrassment threatening your cheeks.

“S’okay?” Steve whispers, not relenting any of his closeness. His lips brush yours.

You nod gently, a quiet hum sounding in your throat. You’re not entirely sure you can form words right now. Not when it feels like your heartbeat is everywhere — when you can feel the heat between your legs, the tightness of your nipples as they peak, the undeniable thrum of lust building within you.

And certainly not when you can feel Steve, his hardness pressed up against your thigh, his pupils bigger than usual. They’re ringed in that hazel you love— a colour that might be your new favourite ever.

Fuck, you’re in deep. What an incredibly sappy thought to have while you’re getting hot and bothered. Did Steve think that way about you too? Think about the colour of your eyes while he kissed your mouth?

“I…” You finally find your voice and Steve pulls back a couple inches so he can see you properly. His eyes dart over your face adoringly, his lips rosy red from all the kisses and quirked into a smile. He looks at you as if you’re everything.

“I want to…” You say, unable to find the words to finish your sentence. Embarrassment winds up inside you, ready to spring free but Steve seems uncaring at your hesitance.

“You wanna what?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth with a hum. Endlessly patient. Somehow your stomach churns a little faster at that. Nerves stand up on their end, a thousand uneasy prickles over your body.

“I want to.” You say this time, firmer. “Do more.”

It still sounds too mousy coming out and you see a flicker of something on Steve’s face.

“If you do, I mean.” You add on quickly. “I want to if you do.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, like the idea of checking in with him was a bit absurd. His gaze roams over your face slowly, taking his fine time just looking at you. He looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to say.

He lands on, “You don’t seem sure.”

Your heart flip-flops at the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his concern evident. He fixes you with a serious, sincere look.

You nod, your hair scrunching up against the pillow as you do. “I am. I just…”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and worry it, thinking of how to put this. You’ve said it before, you’ve told him how it was in the past, how you hadn’t enjoyed it and yet…

Feeling too squirmish under Steve’s intense stare, you avert your eyes to look at the ceiling and swallow the knot in your throat.

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I want to try but I’m not sure— I just I can’t promise that I’ll- that y’know, I—”

Eyes crushing closed, you try to seize your bubbling anxiety before it seizes you. This is Steve. You trust him wholly. Just a moment ago you were thinking about how much you like him and—

“Hey,” Steve murmurs lowly, nudging his nose into yours. Your eyes open. He smiles softly when he says, “I have no interest in doing something you don’t enjoy.”

The protest flounders up inside you before you can stop it. “But—“

“So,” He cuts you off pointedly. “If we give it a go and you don’t like it, that’s okay. We can just figure out what you do enjoy, okay?“

For a long moment, you just stare up at him.

“Yeah? So we can just try and if it… If I…” You flounder for words, sounding like you think it must be too good to be true. You stare up at the ceiling as you try to verbalise the biggest hurdle, the final niggling worry.

You peer back up at Steve’s face. “You… you wouldn’t be disappointed if we started but then I wanted to stop?”

Some emotion shutters across Steve’s face, a flash of devastation. You mistake it for annoyance.

An unwelcome hitch suddenly twists in your stomach. “I'm sorry, I know that you— we already- last time, we talked about this and I should know—“

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts with a soft shake of his head. “Stop doing that, it’s fine to feel unsure or- or to not know what you like. It takes time and experience to figure what you do like.”

His hand shifts up, brushing the hair back from your forehead. He leaves it there, the warmth of his hand a comfort. His fingers curl lightly into your hair.

“That’s all I wanna do,” He breathes softly, his lips tugging up at the corners. He looks unbearably earnest, his brown eyes shining. “Just wanna do what you like. Wanna figure out what you like.”

He leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then that soft sensitive spot under your ear. You squirm but this time for all the right reasons.

“Y’want me to do that?” He murmurs.

You’re breathing a little heavier and when Steve nips at your earlobe sparingly, just a love bite and a flash of teeth, your breath catches loudly. Desire surges through you, hot and straight between your legs.

It takes another moment to remember he’s asked you a question.

“Yeah…” you breathe. You wanna nod but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I wanna do that. Wanna— wanna learn what you like too.”

Steve hums, a pleased sound, and he kisses languidly at your neck. His lips, soft and plush, scrape against your skin in a way that gathers heat low in your gut. Your hips tilt forward an inch, moving against his thigh almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah?”

The way he says it, the way the word rolls out of his mouth, all husky and low, makes your nipples peak.

“We get to learn together, hm?” He kisses your neck again. The soft press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth have you gripping the sheets, almost white knuckled.

Suddenly, you can’t stand to not be touching him. Your hands fly from the sheets, fingers curling around his midriff, feeling at the warm skin. His t-shirt is warmed by him. You slip your hands beneath it as he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, soft enough to make you sigh.

Your hand finds skin. Finally, finally, you get your hands on that damned happy trail that’s been all but haunting your daydreams for the past months.

As Steve kisses down your neck, you trace the line of hair with your finger slowly. Your thumb strokes the coarse hair all the way down to his waistband, gentle and hungry all at once— trying to commit it all to memory. Unwittingly, Steve shivers at the motion.

“Fuck,” his breath shudders against your neck. He tucks his face in closer, fighting the urge to press his body up against yours and grind. You feel the twitch in his hips anyway. “You drive me crazy.”

“Me too,” you gasp when he pulls off your neck, blowing cool air across the heated skin he’s been dedicating himself to. You wonder if a bruise will come up, beautiful and kiss-bitten. You clench a little at the thought, the heat between your thighs only increasing.

A mark from him— a mark of a lover.

You want to give one to him too. Managing to remember you can do things with your hands, other than just pawing at his back, you shift them up to curl into his hair. Tugging gently, you coax his face up enough so you can nose alone the length of his neck.

Steve’s panting and you can hear his breath catch when you start planting kiss after kiss on his skin— dragging your bottom lip across those glorious moles you adore so much.

Without meaning to, you press him back and Steve lets himself roll back onto the mattress, his hands tugging you closer. You take the invitation and struggle for a moment to get up over his hips, one leg too tangled in the blanket on the bed.

“My leg,” you laugh weakly, having to retract a hand from his hair to free it. When you do, you settle down, straddling his hips, and try not to lose your confidence. Still, you can’t help apologising. “Sorry.”

Steve peers up at you lovingly, frowning a little when you apologise. “What? No, it’s fine.”

He shifts one hand and grabs the loose blanket beside you and then hefts it up, throwing it as far as he can off the bed with a grunt. It lands somewhere behind you with a soft noise.

“Blanket’s fault.” He says, brown eyes back on you. “Freaking cockblock. I got rid of him, babe, don’t worry.”

You snort a little, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

“My hero.” You murmur sarcastically against them.

“Ooh, say that again, baby,” Steve moans exaggeratedly, throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatic, his eyes screwed shit.

You laugh, unknowingly relaxing a little further into him. You swat at his chest.

“Steve.”

“Oh!” He moans again, all girlish and fake, and twists his head in the other direction. “I love it when you say my name like I’m an idiot!”

You gasp, but it’s still hidden in your laughter as you hit his chest again, for a different reason this time.

“Don’t say that!” You say genuinely. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

Steve drops the act, his eyes creasing open to shine up at you. He’s glowing beneath you, cheeks a bit flushed and grinning like he’s a little bit in love with you. You think he might be.

“No, you don’t.” He agrees. He soothes his hands up and down your sides. “Only idiot is that idiot who let you think there was anything wrong with you.”

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Please don’t bring him up ever again— least of all when we’re in bed.”

Steve squeezes your sides gently and smiles up at you like he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. “Noted.”

And then you kiss him.

For a couple of minutes it’s this easy, lazy making out that you love. Though, it’s like there’s a furnace turning up beneath you both, the intensity getting more feverish with every kiss. When Steve finally pulls back from you, panting, he looks as flustered as you feel.

“Can I take these off?”

His fingers are curled into the waistband of your pyjama pants. You nod before you can overthink it, letting him shimmy them down your thighs and settling yourself down on the comforter. Steve sits up a bit beside you, to tug them down your legs and off your ankles.

Steve’s focus is on his hands but your gaze is stuck on his face— and you watch as he tosses your pants behind him carelessly. His eyes fix on your cunt, hidden away behind your lacy panties.

“Woah,” he murmurs softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He leans down on his elbows, one arm on either side of your hips and pings the elastic on the cutest lingerie you own. “These are very pretty.”

He sounds like he means it, his voice tinged with lust. It gives you a moment of confidence.

“Yeah?” You ask. You slide your hands up, pushing your shirt up gingerly as you to reveal the matching bra to him.

Even from your distance, you can see how Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing way out. “You like them?”

Steve let’s out a pained noise as his head flops over, his nose pressed into your hipbone. One of his hands reaches down between his legs, adjusting himself in his pants.

He looks back up at you, hair a bit mussed, and pouts.

“That’s not fair! That’s so not fair. Did you plan this? Blindside me by wearing my body wash and then surprise me with matching lingerie?”

The way he says it, all faux accusatory, makes you grin. He sits up long enough to tug his own shirt off, discarding it behind him, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. You catch a glint of the single chain he wears around his neck before he's kissing you.

“You—” Kiss. “look—” Kiss. “so—” Kiss. “fuckin’—” Kiss. “hot.”

He pulls back, taking a moment to just gaze at you before he leans back further, scuttling down the sheets til he’s paused between above your legs.

Something within you flares hotly at the memory of the last time he was in the position. You feel a warm pulse in your cunt, a trickle of slick coating your panties. Your hips shift an inch— half nerves, half anticipation.

Steve kisses you over your panties, like last time, the first chaste and on your clit. The next is a little lower, a little slower, his lips parting further and his tongue pressing languidly against your core. You squirm, breathing a little heavier.

His hands grips gently at your hips, moving up to smooth over your thighs. He lets his fingers slip forward, the tips of them pressing lightly into your inner thighs. He pulls them further apart and ruins you a bit when he kisses sweet along the skin of your thigh.

“I’m pretty sure we could just do this every time and I’d be happy,” Steve says, but it’s paired a chuckle fringed with nerves.

He looks up at you and you realise it is a bit of nervousness— like he’s worried you might find it embarrassing just how much he likes it.

Your blood hums in response, warmer, all of it rushing down your body. You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you say, “Yeah?”

Steve smiles, that flash of nervousness already gone or cleverly hidden. He gives your thighs a gentle squeeze with his large hands and rubs his cheek up against one of them.

“Are you kidding me? I think I’d do anything you wanted just to hear those noises you made again.”

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He’s always so startlingly honest and forward with his feelings but, somehow, it still manages takes you by surprise— that he’s not at all shy about how much he likes you.

Scrambling for an appropriately sexy response, you come up blank and instead decide to press your thighs together. Between them, Steve’s cheeks squish forward, his lips forming an absurdly funny pout.

“Hey!” He exclaims.

It comes out a little muffled with his face squidged up and the mixture of both his face and voice makes you laugh. You release him, legs falling apart, feeling the breath of his laugh again your skin.

“Kidding, you can warm my ears anytime you want, honey,” He’s still grinning up at you when he says it. Part of you know he’s being completely serious.

Your gut burns low. You resist the urge to squirm, feeling the heat chase down to your cunt. It’s hard to relax when he manages to make you feel so keyed up.

“Stop getting distracted.” You jest.

“You stop getting distracted,” He jibes back, but his focus drifts back down, his eyes darkening with a fiery lust.

He rubs the skin of your thighs again, soothingly, and lets one hand creep forward til his knuckles are brushing up against the edge of your panties. His thumb presses forward, into the wet spot you’ve soaked through.

Even so, he still asks, “How we doin’? Still feeling good?”

You nod quickly, then think verbal confirmation is probably far better. “Yeah, still good.”

Realising you’re staring up at the ceiling, hard, you flick your eyes down between your legs. Even if it doesn’t feel particularly sexy, you still have to say it. “Thank you for checking.”

“Of course,” Steve says. He pinches the elastic of your panties lightly, his eyebrows raising in question. “Gonna take these off, yeah? Then you let me know if you don’t like anything I’m doing.”

Despite your history, a huge part of you wants to say yeah, fat chance of that because yeah, you’re beginning to wonder if your boyfriend has some genuinely magical fingers. And a magical mouth. And wait, does that mean his co—

The thought gets ripped away as you feel your panties get tugged downwards and you quickly lift your hips to help. Though he’s seen you bare before, it’s impossible to stop the flush that rolls through your body, hot and tinged with embarrassment. You want to close your legs but Steve between them prevents that from happening.

“Here,” Steve hums, reaching a hand up to scoop up your own from the bedsheets.

He gives it a quick kiss on the palm and then moves it up to land in his hair. “You let me know how m’doing, okay?”

Your fingers curl into his brunette locks automatically and grip tightly when he leans in, his hot tongue dipping between your folds. Pleasure drips into your body as he begins to lick softly, his skilled tongue finding your bundle of nerves quickly and twisting around it.

Heat builds. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it, soft pants escaping your lips as Steve kisses and suckles where you’re most sensitive, til there’s a moan lacing every breath.

Fuck, he’s so good at this. How is he so good at this?

One of his hands on your thighs starts to knead gently as the other one slides forward, til his thumb is rested at your slicked entrance. He hasn’t stopped sucking on your clit but your sudden sharp inhale catches his attention.

“Sorry,” you say instinctively.

“It’s fine,” Steve soothes, his thumb circling around your soaked hole, which clenches in response.

He kisses your thigh. Desire burns you up from within, your fingers twisting a little tighter in his hair, giving away your nerves.

“We’re just figuring out what you like, yeah?” He muses, his words half comfort, half lust.

You nod but don’t speak, trying to trust him enough to let his words calm you. Steve gives you a moment to breathe before he resumes the work with his mouth, his hot mouth suckling at your clit once again.

He waits until you’re back to those quiet, shy lusty little noises before he tries again, prodding softly at your entrance in warning before he gently sinks his finger in. You gasp again, hands tightening in his hair — as something molten hot shoots right up your spine.

“Steve,” you cry out his name. It feels... good, which feels like a fucking miracle in itself. He begins to fuck the finger in and out slowly, still lapping at your clit. A heat that you’ve only felt once before starts to nip at your skin, bleeding into each nerve.

Your panting grows heavier and without meaning to, you clench down around him, desperate for a little more.

“See, you like that one, huh?” Steve mumbles against you, his dark eyes flashing up to take in your face contorted in pleasure. His cock thickens unbearably in his pants, too confined. You nod, hair scrunching up against the pillow.

“Yea—yes,” You say, feeling your hips rock down an inch. You want more of that.

Steve obliges, more than willingly, adding another finger. It slides in with little resistance. It’s hotter than anything else to get to see you like this, pliant and horny, rocking your hips against his mouth.

To get to make you like this— sucking on your cute little clit and fucking his fingers in, hearing the adorable squelch of your wetness. You’re so turned on it makes his brain melt a bit, the way you’re leaking all over his fingers. Steve’s cock throbs desperately— but he wants to make sure you’re stretched out enough to take him. If you want that, that is.

He eases one more finger in, keeping a careful watch on your face to see how you take it. You keen beautifully, back arching slightly as he curls his fingers and begins to stretch you out.

You pant deliriously, these tiny whimpers beginning to slip out your throat. Steve wishes he could see your face, the cute scrunch of your brows as you moan— but happily settles for latching his lips back onto your cunt.

Three fingers feel even better than two, you find, as you grip the sheets tightly— you’re throbbing but in this torturous way, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. There’s a hint of pain lingering at the back, but not enough to distract you from the pleasure.

It takes you by surprise then, when the pleasure suddenly tapers off, your eyes creasing up open and head popping up. You realise Steve is slowly stopping, his slick fingers slipping out of you as he sits back up a bit.

“Why’d you stop?” You say without thinking.

Flushing, you quickly follow it up. “Every— everything okay?”

God, you sound wiped. Your chest is still heaving and your clit twitches, missing the stimulation of your boyfriend’s mouth. The air smells honeyed and perfumed with sex.

“You tell me,” Steve murmurs sweetly, his lips grazing the inside of your knee in an almost kiss. “You said you wanted to do more. Is this enough more?”

Your heart nearly bursts in the pure consideration. God, he’s so fucking nice to you. So unbothered to take things your pace, so attuned to making you feel good. You know that you could happily do this more for the rest of the night.

But it’s not what you had in mind — and the longer you wait, the more you’re beginning to crave getting Steve to a similar state you’re in. Moaning, flushed in the face, his hands buried in your hair.

“We can do more,” You say, your voice dropping back into that shy whisper.

Steve watches you closely, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh dotingly.

You clear your throat and speak a little louder. “I wanna do more.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, his grin growing. He huffs and shakes his head a little, dropping your gaze.

“I mean, believe me, even if we just—“ He gestures vaguely between your thighs. “— did this all night? Night well spent.”

You know he means it, especially with his hungry gaze that dips back down, his tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

You press up onto one elbow and reach out one hand, hooking your finger over the one single chain he wears. There’s a ring looped on it, the one you gave him as a promise, and just the sight of it makes you glow inside.

You tug the chain forward lightly and him with it, Steve shifting up the bed til you’re nearly face to face, his frame hovering above you. The beds dips beneath his hands as they crawl up to either side of your waist, his intense eyes locking onto your face. He might be holding his breath.

Swallowing, you move up and press your lips to his in a slow, soft kiss. It turns deeper, hotter, heavier. You swipe your tongue into his mouth and Steve lets out a pitiful noise in response, pressing his mouth against yours desperately.

Drawing back with a little gasp, you open your eyes and repeat your earlier sentiment, “I want to do more.”

Steve watches you, his exhale shaking slightly. You dot a kiss on his cheek quick, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“I want to do more with you.”

A kiss on his other cheek, just as fast. Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch.

“I want to do more, right now.”

Steve smiles splits into a grin, his eyes shining as he chuckles, the sound doused in fondness. “Okay, okay, I got the message,” He murmurs.

Pushing back to sit on his heels, he turns and rummages around in his bedside table for a moment. You lay back on the pillows and try catch your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s stolen once more.

When Steve pulls back, there’s a row of condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. He tears off one of the condoms and throws the rest of them behind him without thought.

You can’t help but tilt your head up, neck straining a bit, not wanting to look away for a moment as Steve raises onto his knees and pushes his boxers down. His cock kicks up, released from its confines with a soft slap against his happy trail.

Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

And look, you’ve seen a dick before, okay? It’s pretty hard to sleep with someone and not see one, unless you have your eyes closed the entire time.

But Steve’s cock is… pretty.

Pink and aching, the head of it slick with a bit of pre-cum— that you realise he’s gotten from being worked up whilst eating you out. You gush a little at the dizzying thought.

You want to touch it — or put it in your mouth so you can drool over it, can suck on it, can feel the heady weight of it on your tongue. Or, as you realise what the ache of your cunt means, you really, really want him to fuck you with it.

Instinct drives your thighs apart, beckoning him between them. Steve’s eyes darken as he notes the motion, moving a bit more hastily to tear the condom packet open. He rolls it down his length, quick and precise.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, reaching out for the lube and drizzling a generous amount into his palm. He keeps the bottle within reach as he slicks it over his heavy cock, a beautiful groan pushing out his throat as he does.

“Okay,” He says again, a little breathier than before. Shuffling forward, Steve lines himself up with your core gently before halting. His eyes dart up to your face.

“You let me know if there’s anything you don’t like or you wanna stop.”

You nod, his ardent care only serving to fuel your lust. You’ll coo over it in the afterglow— right now you want to be around him, want to feel him pulsing inside you, want to feel full where you’re suddenly feeling so, so empty.

Steve shifts forward, beginning to sink into you with a low groan of pleasure.

The first few seconds are bliss — Steve’s done his job well at warming you up and something hungry awakens with a burst of pleasure as you take the first few inches.

Then, something a little more uncomfortable joins the mix.

You try not to squirm, disappointment inflating as your pleasure is robbed by the twinges of pain. It’s not unbearable but you’re enjoying yourself less. Steve moves in another inch and then discomfort abruptly becomes pain.

You inhale sharply, teeth gritted together, and Steve stops moving in an instant.

“Woah, y’okay?”

You nod, even as your eyes slip shut. Half of this is a mental game, you know that—you’ll never loosen up if you don’t try to relax.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, voice a bit tight. “Just— just gimme a minute.”

Steve murmurs a quiet sure but after a moment he says, “Wait, lemme—“ and moves forward so he’s hovering above you instead of sitting back, your faces much closer now. The jostling doesn’t help but having Steve closer does.

He keeps his hips as still as he can and kisses your cheek. You don’t open your eyes just yet, willing yourself desperately to relax, to enjoy it. You take a deep breath.

“We can stop,” Steve whispers.

You shake your head. Creasing your eyes open, you move your hands up so you can twine them around Steve’s neck in almost a hug. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek again, then steals a kiss from your lips.

“I wanna—“ You gasp, frustration mounting at how the pain doesn’t seem to be subsiding. You sound miserable as you cling to him closer. “I want this to work.”

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” Steve responds, his arm shifting up so he can trace his thumb over your cheekbone.

The movement moves his hips forward another inch, pain spiking so severely that you wince aloud, your face pinched in discomfort. That’s all it takes for Steve to shift back, easing out of you gently. You’re devastated at the relief that follows.

“Okay, I’m not doing that if it hurts you—“

“It wasn’t,” You lie fruitlessly. You know Steve heard your wince—but maybe if you lie, you can trick your body.

Hands coming up to cover your face, you scrunch your eyes up, annoyed at how they sting with tears so quickly. Your voice is all wobbly when you say, “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, I really want this to work, Steve.”

Steve aches at your words, moving in to tug at your hands. His voice is soft, sweet.

“Hey, hey, I know that, sweetheart.”

You don’t let him in, hands still shielding your face. He kisses your knuckles instead, his thumbs swiping up and down your wrists comfortingly.

He waits a moment before he continues, voice buttery soft, “I know you want this. It’s not your fault if your body only likes it some ways and not others. You can’t control that and I know that.”

You take one deep breath and it shudders as you inhale, sounding far too teary for Steve’s liking. He tugs at your wrists again, relieved when you let him pull them away tentatively. You aren’t crying but you look damn near close.

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Steve coos, nuzzling in close, his nose brushing against yours.

He releases your wrists to cup your face, tender and soft, his brows knit together in his concern. “You know I don’t mind- I told you that I don’t care what we do, just that you’re enjoying it.”

You take another shaky inhale, a little more stable than the last. Steve can feel how you move to press back against him, nuzzling him back. You take another moment before you reply.

“I just-“ You start, voice still tight. “It’s so stupid. I wanted it— I wanted to enjoy it. And that doesn’t even seem to matter to my body. It doesn’t even change how it feels and that sucks. Like I can’t control this part of me.”

Steve listens dutifully, waiting til you finish and your eyes find him.

“Well,” He starts, averting his eyes somewhat sheepishly. “Take everything I say with a grain of salt, okay? But… your body doesn’t hurt just to mess with you, right?”

He waits a moment for your tentative nod. “Right. So, it’s not for nothing. It’s trying to tell you something and- and ignoring that isn’t having control. You have to listen and work with your body — it’s your partner in all this.”

“I thought you were my partner,” you whisper, the small smile on your lips giving away your joke. Steve faux rolls his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose.

“I’m your other partner.” He smiles. Then sighs, casting his gaze above your head for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Am I making any sense?”

Wiggling one hand up, you place it on his cheek tenderly and begin to whisper. “You’re making a lot of sense actually.”

Steve sighs, leaning his face into the palm of your hand with a huff. “Well, that’s a relief.”

For a minute, there’s only quiet. Your emotions come down from their swell and you take the time to admire the beautiful boy above you, who seems to be doing just the same to you.

After a moment of time, you clear your throat and say, “Can we try again?”

Steve seems to think on it for a moment before he nods, turning to kiss your palm.

“This is gonna make me sound like a total guy,” He says, words muffled against your hand. His brown eyes flash up to yours, darting between them. “But maybe we should try from the back. Like, different angle and all.”

You snort, unable to hold it in because it does sound like such a guy thing to say. Even so, you give a little nod, eager to try something else. You don’t even want to acknowledge the mounting dread around disappointing Steve — even with all his assurances, you can’t help but feel as though this has been one gigantic let down.

As Steve shifts back, you become suddenly aware of the lubed up slick spot on your thigh where Steve's cock was resting and scrunch your nose with a laugh. Peering down, you drag a finger through the wetness left on it.

“Ew,” you laugh.

“Ew?” Steve echoes incredulously. “Alright, that’s it.” His sits up and back, his hands darting down lightning fast, manoeuvring you all of sudden. He hooks his hands under your hips and lifts, twisting so you’re suddenly splayed on your front.

You’re giggling all the while, drunk on the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands as they trail up your sides. The hair of his tanned scrapes against your back as he leans in, mouthing along your shoulder towards your neck.

You find your knees and prop yourself up on them, lifting your hips off the sheets of Steve’s bed. At the angle he’s draped himself over you, it’s a perfect line up of his cock with your cunt, the head of it teasing your entrance when you push back.

You're relieved that your emotional moment hadn't killed the mood altogether. That same hot, pulsating want from before tears through you and Steve takes a stuttering breath, the slightest moan in his throat. You feel his forehead press against your shoulder blade, as though he’s trying to compose himself.

“You-“ He says, the word catching in his throat. As if unable to help himself, his hips grind forward, pushing his aching cock between your slick folds. You make pitiful, keening noises in response, a thread of pleasure run through the two of you.

“You ready?” Steve asks shakily. He relents some of his closeness to grab the lube, giving another generous drizzle into his palm to slather over himself.

“Please,” you whisper, pushing yourself back an inch.

This time when Steve pushes himself in, the bliss stretches out, lasting more than just the first couple seconds. You make a high, breathy sigh of a noise and your head drops forward.

Steve pauses, his breathing on the ragged side, and checks in. “Still feeling okay?”

You nod feverishly, a whine building up in your throat that threatens to escape if Steve doesn’t move. Or maybe if he does move. You can’t tell — can’t tell anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, hot and throbbing.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “Yeah, keeping going, please,”

Steve grunts, complying in an instant, sinking his cock further in. Something inside you tightens up again— but it’s not nearly as noticeable as last time. Still, Steve recognises it and he slows for a moment.

“I’m okay,” you assure breathily, face nearly pressed into the bed. You need him to keep moving.

And he does; his cock sinks in another inch right as his hand creeps around your hip, searching for something blindly. You barely get one moment of confusion before his calloused fingers drag through the slick on your cunt and move up, pushing against your clit purposefully.

You moan, loud and high. The friction of your clit is enough to make your thighs spread a little wider and your hips move back before you even realise what you’re doing, almost the rest of Steve’s cock sinking inside you. It feels good but something else pinches up inside you.

Steve moans, muffling the sound into your skin as he hides his face in your neck.

You pant, suddenly dreading how you can feel the prick of pain on the fringes of your pleasure if Steve stretches you too far. "Don't- n-not too much," You warn gently, the words all breathy, still swathed in your pleasure. "I—uh— fuck, I don't think I can take it all."

You feel Steve's nod against the back of your neck, accompanied by a low hum in his throat.

“Y-yeah, okay,” He stammers. His hips roll forward and he follows your word, not quite pushing all the way in. "F-Fuck."

His breath is hot on your neck and the sudden urge for his kiss is nearly overwhelming. Even not facing him, the way Steve drapes himself around you, gentle even with how he grinds his hips into yours, feels intimate. Your cunt gives a soft squelch.

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, stilling completely — the feeling of you wrapped around him is enough to nearly push him to the edge. He screws his eyes closed and whimpers, trying to keep himself together.

“Y’okay?” You whisper breathily after a couple of moments, forehead pressed into the sheets. Your hips move just a little bit, shifting in a little circle so his cock slides out an inch, his fingertips grazing across your clit again.

“I—ngh-“ Another whine slips out from his throat at your movement and Steve’s hand slips back, gripping your hip tightly. “Jesus Christ. Y-Yeah I’m good, just trying not to— fuck- end this too quickly.”

He moves a bit, readjusting him arms to hold weight up a little easier.

“But you’re really wet and, like, really warm,” He grunts, almost accusingly. “And I really like you, so,”

You can’t help it — a little laugh titters out of you, one of pure delight because Steve is sincere about his feelings. The laugh only serves to make Steve groan louder.

“Shit,” He gasps, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “You can’t laugh right now, it’s so not helping.”

“Sorry,” you laugh again, a little more apologetic this time.

Then, after a moment of gathered bravery, you say, “I don’t think I like this position. I can’t see your face.”

Steve makes a pained noise from behind you, a breathy and sharp inhale, and suddenly his grip on your hip is twice as tight.

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Please.” He grits out, voice sounding tight and barely restraining the moan in it. “I’m trying really hard here but you’re making this impossible.”

Steve shifts on his elbow again, bicep bulging as he lowers himself to one side. His hips press into your backside, sinking himself further into your wet heat, as he settles his weight down onto the mattress. The springs make a noise in protest.

You’re still closely intertwined, Steve pressed up against you, still throbbing within you, but now it’s more like… you’re spooning.

You settle down too, forcing out an exhale to let yourself melt back into Steve’s chest.

He lets out a soft groan again but the new position means he can bury his face in your neck properly— and when you turn your head right, he seizes the chance for a kiss.

He kisses sweet and slow to begin with, plush lips nipping at yours as if you’re not already in the throes of sex. Like he kisses you hello. His nose nudges against yours and he shimmies an arm beneath you on the bed. It curls itself around your stomach and Steve uses it to bring you even closer.

“Is this better?” He whispers. He nudges his hips for a bit, giving a gentle thrust. Something warm flares at the pit of your belly, hungry for more. “Still okay?”

You nod, a whimper escaping your throat as you steal another kiss from his lips. “Yes,” You whisper, lips scraping against his, hardly believing it. “Feels— feels good, baby,”

Steve finally gives in to his moan, a beautiful noise that sends heat rushing between your thighs. He begins to move more, building a gentle rhythm as he fucks into you, sensual and adoring all in one.

Time drips away. You feel much warmer now, pressed up against Steve’s chest, with his kisses all around. One of his hands stays dutifully between your legs, pushing around your bundle of nerves and pulling weak, soft noises from you. The other, you cling to, your fingers twisted as best they can with his.

Pleasure wraps the pair of you up til a soft glow of sex and love settles over the both of you. Steve murmurs doting words, an endless stream of encouragement pouring from his mouth as he nibbles at the shell of your ear.

Still feelin’ good? Yeah, you are. Just listen to you- sounding so pretty wrapped around my cock.

Fuck, your pussy makes the cutest noises. So wet f’me, isn’t she? God, you drive me crazy.

You’re taking me so well, yeah? Being so fuckin’ good f’me- letting me know how you feel. M’so lucky - fuckin’ love— love this with you.

You don’t even realise when every gasp out your mouth has turned into a moan, each breath building and mounting. Your chest heaves and Steve’s motions go from lazy to focused. His hips slow a little but his fingers over your clit speed up, dancing across the nerves perfectly.

You clutch desperately at the arm he has wrapped around your waist, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your hole clenches wildly as you hurtle towards your orgasm— and go right over the edge without warning.

You make this cute little gasping noise, high pitched and wrapped in a pretty sigh, and Steve doesn't think he's ever heard something so sensual, so pretty. His blood seems to thrum in response, pleasure turning the coil in his gut tighter and tighter.

Euphoria melts into your body and you sag into it with a drawn out soft moan, turning your face to search for Steve’s in an instant. One of your hands darts up, sloppily reaching for the back of his neck, suddenly starved of a kiss.

You find his lips right as Steve finds his peak— his handsome face screwing up as he all but whines into your mouth. You capture it, some heavy, open mouthed kiss of desperation shared between you.

Pleasure flows over you, hot and heavy, fuelled by the frantic grinds of Steve’s hips into yours as he whimpers into your mouth. Even though some part of you feels vulgar, another, louder, part of you feels like you've taken part in something sacred. Steve's fierce kiss certain feels akin to something holy.

After a minute, the euphoria fades. You settle back into your body, feeling the scratch of the cotton sheets beneath you, the sweat of Steve’s chest on your back, the slightly discomfort in between your thighs.

Steve can feel it, the moment you tense back up, some unwelcome twinge of pain in your gut. He’s shuffling back and pulling out before you even have to ask.

Without his chest to lean on, you roll backward naturally and flop onto your back, still panting lightly. Steve shifts up to hover above you.

“You good?” He asks, that same breathlessness in his voice. He smiles handsomely, his hair a little limper than usual, flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. “You did great.”

That almost makes you laugh, the sincere praise so like one might give a child, but Steve seals it with a kiss to your forehead. Your laugh turns into a sheepish but giddy grin. “I’m gonna take the condom off, I’ll be right back.”

He disappears from your line of sight for a minute or two and you can hear him rustling around in his room.

Without any distractions, you suddenly remember the film you’d put on in the beginning, still running at the end of the bed— the final credits are just starting to roll. The streetlights glow a little brighter in the evening dark through the curtains.

You huff out a breath and your smile comes without even trying. In fact, if Steve hadn’t come back when he did, you’re sure you would’ve started giggle to yourself madly, cocooned in your own contentedness. That same awed, gleeful smile just like the first time round.

“You look like a dope, smiling like that, you know that?”

Steve’s wearing a pair of boxers, green plaid, and he’s got a fresh, warm wash-cloth in his hands.

"I didn't know that," You muse playfully.

“Hey,” He changes tone to less playful, kneeling on the bed. You notice the change of clothes in his other hand when he throws them onto the duvet beside him. “M’just gonna clean you up a bit, that okay?”

You’re sure there’s a pinch of embarrassment in you somewhere but, still blissed from your orgasm, you can’t manage to find it. Steve is quick and precise, the warm cloth wiping up any excess sticky fluids. He kisses the inside of your knee when he’s done.

“All done,” He murmurs, climbing back off the bed in the direction of the bathroom, switching off the television as he does. He gestures to the clothes at the foot of the bed as he walks. “Y’can wear these if you want.”

Finally feeling less flattened, you shift up to lean on your elbows. He’s grabbed you a pair of his boxers, the matching blue pair to his green, and one of his old Hawkins swim-team shirts. You slip into both quickly, your heart going a bit fuzzy with how soft the shirt is.

Then you crawl beneath the covers, blood still rushing far faster than usual and a satisfied tiredness beginning to sink into your body. You can't help but thinking it all over — Steve's mouth between your legs, the feel of him sinking into you, the ecstasy of falling apart in his arms.

Part of you hadn't wanted to acknowledge that, well, it fucking worked this time and you enjoyed it. A niggly fear about jinxing it. Like if you pointed it out, it would incite the likelihood of your body turning on you once more. Robbing you of pleasure and experience in equal measure.

But when Steve comes bounding back to the bed, dragging back the covers to join you beneath them, you speak first.

"So, that didn't suck." You say excitedly, biting back your grin as Steve settles down beside you.

Together, you share one pillow as he scooches in closer. His hands reach out, searching for you amongst the sheets. When he finds your hips, he uses them to drag you closer to him, a halfhearted cuddle.

He lets out a puff of air against the pillow, a light snort. "I mean, hopefully it didn't just not suck."

If you had more energy, you might give him a playful shove because you know he knows what you mean. He'd seen the whole display of nervous emotions attached to sex all the way leading up to it.

Instead, heart feeling awfully gooey in your chest, you seize the opportunity to press in closer to him. Your head tucks beneath his chin, your lips barely grazing his throat.

"It was really good." You whisper, lashes fluttering as your eyes fight to stay open. Steve's warm on a good day. He's hot as a furnace with all the blood that's pumping around still. Perfect for snuggling up with.

"Yeah?" He sounds delightfully pleased, but not the smug kind. He sounds happy that you enjoyed it.

Then he whispers, "Told you it wasn't you."

His big palm sweeps up your back soothingly.

He's right. You've never been so glad to be on the receiving end of an I told you so before. Not that Steve would say that (at least, not right now).

Cuddling in closer, you wriggle one hand out from beneath the covers, not bothering to pull back or open your eyes when you murmur, "Just had sex high-five?"

You can feel Steve's laugh as it rumbles through his throat. It's an inside joke now, it seems.

"Hell yeah." He wiggles one hand free and slaps it against yours, probably a little harder than necessary. You laugh too, the sound a mixture of joy and sleep.

And yeah, okay, you might get it now. The whole big fuss around sex that everyone seems to make—but maybe you don't entirely agree with them.

There was something more in the... trust. In knowing that Steve wouldn't have cared which way it happened, as long as you were both enjoying it. In the intimacy shared, even before you had ever slept together. In the waiting. In the wanting—for both yourself and for Steve.

There's some grandeur discovery you've uncovered, you're sure of it, about the mystery and craze around sex. You just keep losing the string of thoughts to your slumber which drifts ever closer.

Oh well. You can always put it all together in the morning when you're not so tempted by sleep and bundled up in the arms of a boy who you love. For now, you drift off, fulfilled and content.

tags below! (seven months later...)

@roanniom @madaboutjoe @huang-the-geek @pootcullen @superskittles

@hales-who-loves-to-reid @spear-bearing-bi-witch @daisiesandinvasives @season4steve @thelauraborealis

@mmmunson @everythinghasafacee @katethetank @sorry--for-the-mess @matterdontminduntildone

@blowing-mikey @astoryreader @mulletmcghee @sugarcoatedstarkey @pullhisteeth

(these are just the ppl in the tags that mentioned wanting to be tagged! if i know u follow me and are a regular, i didn't bother tagging u cos i know you'll see it hehehe <3)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #jay writes #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x you smut #steve x reader smut #all my chatter goes after the tags now cos did u guys know that after twenty tags apparently they just dont count tags???#lawd knows im not wasting my first twenny on my rambling #i have MUCH to say about this piece #but mainly im so glad its fookin FINISHED #i can literally see the line breaks in the fic where i stopped and left it for a month #i know the fandom be quiet between seasons but hopefully people be down for some #good ol super into each other figuring it out sex <3 #again - this is entirely indulgent tehe !#but i know there's lot of peeps out there with similar experiences and i hope this resonates for them #mwah!#enough jabbering !

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sceletaflores · 17 days

Text

college!pervy!patrick stealing your underwear 18+

it's pure fucking luck when it happens.

art wouldn't stop complaining about having to take his dirty laundry to the communal room on his dorm floor that housed all the washers and dryers. patrick doesn't know why the fuck he offered to take it up for him in the first place, to shut art up? to make him happy?

who gives a shit anyways cause while he's taking arts stupidly full hamper to the laundry room and following the half-assed directions given to him, he bumps right into someone as soon as he steps foot through the already open door. when he cranes his head around the edge of art's hamper he nearly jumps with fucking joy at what, or more-so who, greets him.

he knew who you were already. art wouldn't stop blowing up his phone with texts about "the hot new chick with an out of this world backhand and a killer fucking rack!". so as soon as he got off the bus in cali and stepped foot in art's cushy dorm room he obviously demanded he take him to one of your matches, and holy fucking shit.

you absolutely obliterate the poor girl on the opposite side of the net. running her up and down the court like a chicken with its head cut off while you stay calm and collected.

he could come just watching your perfect form as you hammer another excellent serve at your opponent, but something has to be said for the fucking outfit you're wearing. the tight tank of your dress does show off your, now proven, killer fucking rack but goddamn that skirt should be illegal. even the flowy pleated fabric can't hide the thick curve of your ass underneath, bouncing as you take off to chase after the ball.

he's white knuckling the edges of his seat the entire match, using every ounce of willpower in his body to not pop a boner in the middle of the fucking stands and even more willpower to not look over at the smug fucking grin plastered on art's face as he watches him. safe to say, you've been on his mind ever since.

now, you stand in front of him holding your own hamper with an apologetic smile on your face.

"shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't even see you." you say, way too chipper for 9 a.m on a sunday.

patrick is the epitome of a cocky, arrogant asshole. he has girls in nearly every state practically begging to choke on his dick without him so much as raising a finger in their direction. he's beyond smooth. he has every sleazy line known to man on the tip of his tongue at all times, yet when he goes to speak he can't manage anything besides a weak mutter of, "s'alright." he mentally punches himself in the balls for letting your bambi eyes and dick sucking lips get the better of him.

you give him a nod and one last friendly smile before stepping around him and making your way down the hallway. patrick watches in damn near agony as you go, ponytail swinging behind you in time with the sway of your hips.

patrick lets out an all suffering groan, dropping his head to his chest in defeat. "fucking dumbass.' he admonishes himself quietly, letting himself wallow in misery before making to take a step forward when suddenly he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

it takes him a few seconds to register just what he's staring at, but when it clicks he nearly has a fucking heart attack. there on the floor lays a pair of lacy white panties, your lacy white panties. it takes him all of a millisecond to drop art's hamper on the floor carelessly and practically dive to snatch them up. as soon as his fingers touch the fabric he can feel himself chubbing up in his sweats. he runs his fingertips over the hem, feeling the familiar rough texture that was snug against your body so recently makes sparks go off near the base of his spine.

when patrick hears lively conversation and footsteps heading his way he shoves the panties in his pocket and snatches art's hamper off the floor to start haphazardly shoving his clothes in the washer.

when he finally re-enters art's dorm room he's met with his best friends face staring at him suspiciously. "what the fuck took you so long?" art questions, brow raised as he watches patrick stumble over to his bed and plop down a little too roughly. patrick's reply is simple.

“got lost."

it's only later, when he's back on the train heading for his latest stop and digging into his pocket in search of his lighter that he feels it. the lacy fabric of your panties still stuffed deep into his pocket. his breath hitches in his throat and before he knows what he's doing he's up like a shot and speed walking to the back of the cart.

he's in the bathroom a mere five seconds before he's ripping his fly down and furiously stroking his hard as steel cock in a cramped train bathroom he can barely stand up fully in. it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's busting in the fucking sink with your dainty white panties balled up in his fist and held against his nose as he inhales so heavily he might fucking pass out.

patrick has already found, and requested you, on facebook by the time he makes it back to his seat.

-------------

taglist!

@yuenity @callsign-artemis @ebodebo (who each put up with me ranting about this so wonderfully love you guys mwah)

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rosylix · 14 days

Text

rosy

더 깊이 빠져들겠지 더 조금씩 더 조금씩 넌...

you don't know how to give a hickey.. what are friends for if not to help each other with these things?

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 4.3k

content: nonidol au, fluff, not rly smut but suggestive (mdni pls), shy/inexperienced reader, hickeys (duh), reader is like slightly germophobic idk, a lot of teasing, no use of y/n

a/n: i am so delusional i need to bite this mans neck badly. and yes this is my username. yes it's the loona song. lol

[also read on ao3]

—

God, you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“You don't know how to give a hickey?”

You shake your head and cover your face, hiding from Felix, who's sitting next to you on his bed.

“Wait, really? Like you've never even tried it on yourself?” he asks.

“No?! What, people actually do that?” Your hands lower slightly to reveal your eyes widening.

He breathes out a laugh and you hit his arm. “It's not funny!”

“It's kind of funny.”

“Shut up. I just— like— I never… whatever.” He poorly conceals a teasing smile. “Shut up or you're literally not getting any cinnamon rolls tomorrow. In fact, lemme ask Hannie if he wants your extras.” You pull out your phone.

Before you can do anything, Felix swiftly moves closer to you, his hand pushing yours down. “Whoa, whoa, hey.. that's a little drastic, yeah? Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you? ..And your cinnamon rolls?” He smiles sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you.

You grumble but drop the phone and shake his hand away, pursing your lips to fight a smile. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

…And then Felix ruins it.

“But you've kissed people before, right?”

You look at him incredulously. “Did I not say to shut up??” you shriek.

“Is that a no?” He giggles. He fucking giggles. You want to punch his pretty face.

“Lee Felix Yongbok I will smite you down right here where you stand if you don't—”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay wait, sorry, I didn't mean it like that! I just mean, it's kind of like the same thing, you know?”

“The same as what? Giving a h-hickey?” You can't help but stutter a little.

“Yeah like it's… I'll show you.”

Felix suddenly moves so he's in front of you and gently grabs your arm. He'll show you?! Literally what. What the hell. You let out a small squeak and instinctively lean away from him.

“Relax, I just meant here,” he touches your arm. “Is that okay?”

You stare at him.

“...Or I could show it on myself but I thought it might be better to feel it? Or I don't have to do it at all of course,” he says quickly.

Oh. It takes a second but the gears in your head start slowly turning enough to respond.

“Oh.” Well, okay, that wasn't as much of a response as you meant to give.

Felix laughs softly and pulls his hand away from your arm. “Sorry, it's too weird, right? No worries.”

But wait, you're actually curious. And isn't it better to figure it out before you inevitably make a fool out of yourself in front of someone else? It makes you a bit nervous but… you're comfortable with Felix. “No, wait, you can uh... show me…?”

His eyebrows raise for a second but then he smiles. “You sure?”

You nod. You still feel a little dazed and you're not really cognizant enough to actually do anything but watch him as he moves closer again. Your arm must feel like a dead weight but he lifts it up and lowers his head, placing a chaste kiss on your inner wrist. “This okay? Usually you um... start with kissing.”

“O-Oh, okay, yeah..” you murmur. What is this sudden weird atmosphere? Maybe you're the only one feeling it. Felix doesn't seem too phased, but you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Shit, can he feel your pulse right now? You really hope not.

He flashes a shy smile and places another kiss there, and another a little higher, and another, and it feels way too intimate and sends shivers up your spine. Slowly, he moves up your forearm, stopping right before your elbow.

“So… then.. you just wanna like... suck,” he says before doing just that, right below the crook of your elbow.

Oh. It feels weird. You must have made a noise or something because he looks up at you through dark lashes, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. You swallow. What the actual hell is happening right now?

After holding excruciating eye contact for what feels like an eternity, he lets his eyes close. Thank god, because it was making your chest feel tight and weird. You continue to stare as he continues kissing and sucking at your arm, face absolutely burning at the strange sensation.

You've literally lost the freaking plot. You just sit there, no semblance of time passing. After about twenty seconds? Twenty minutes? It literally could have been either — he finally pulls away, with a final kiss and light drag of his teeth against your skin.

You hold your breath as he sits up and gently maneuvers your arm so you could see the fruits of his labor. He clears his throat. “Um, so… it's starting to show up. See?” he says a little breathlessly.

You nod, unsure what to say when your best friend literally just sucked a hickey onto your arm. A very platonic hickey. Okay. This is fine. This is totally normal right? It must be or he wouldn't have offered. ..Right? You stare down at the bruise starting to blossom on your arm and finally chance a glance at Felix, but he also has his head down, staring at your arm.

Suddenly as if on cue, his head jerks up. When he sees you looking at him he grins. “Cool, right? How does it feel?”

“Weird…” you mumble. How can he be so nonchalant about this? You want to strangle him.

He nods. “It might be a little sensitive for a bit.” He runs his fingers lightly over the reddening area and you immediately see what he means. It feels tender and tingly under his touch. You shiver. “So.. you think you get how to do it now?” he asks.

“Um… yeah, I mean, maybe?”

“Do you wanna try?”

“Try? What, on… on your arm?!”

A slight blush creeps up his face and he shrugs. “Sure, or wherever… my arm, or my neck since that's where it's usually…”

You feel your face heat up as well. “I…”

“I just thought, if you wanna like, practice? But of course you don't have to.” He looks away and shrugs again, seeming a little embarrassed for suggesting it.

You open and close your mouth over and over again like a fish. Like a stupid dumb fish who somehow got itself reeled into this crazy situation. But honestly, the more you think about it, the offer to practice is tempting. When would you get another opportunity like this? Probably never. And… you trust Felix more than anyone else.

“...Is it really okay?” you ask hesitantly.

Felix looks up, blinking a few times before smiling. “Of course. I mean, it's only fair since I did it on you,” he laughs softly. He seems happy but also a little surprised that you actually appeared to be agreeing to his offer. Honestly, you're surprised too.

“Right, um…” you mumble. You shuffle a little closer to him. His hand slides down from your elbow to your hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it with his thumb. To reassure you, you think. It's a sweet gesture.

You lean in slightly towards his neck, deciding that if you do it here, you can hide your face from him and avoid any eye contact. “Um, can I...? Where should I…?”

You're so close to him. You can hear his breath catch a little before he points to the side of his neck with his free hand. “Around here,” he says, his voice somehow getting impossibly lower.

You swallow, the reality of the situation suddenly sinking in. As you lean in further you bite your lip, anxious. You need to break this tension somehow. You just can't do this right now. “Um.. um… do you wash your neck?” you blurt out.

Felix leans back a little. “Do I... do I wash my neck? That's what you're worried about?” he laughs.

“Some people probably don't!” you exclaim. Then you sigh. “Ugh, s-sorry, that's stupid, right? You literally licked my arm,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I just— I don't know. It feels icky. Germs.”

He hums. “You're not stupid.” A pause. “But, I can proudly say I do wash my neck.” He presses his lips together, clearly suppressing another laugh and you just know he's about to tease you. “Wow, how do you even kiss people if you're this worried about germs?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, leaning back into his neck a little to hide your face, your breath hot on his neck. He inhales sharply and seems surprised and, you think, a little panicked?

You instantly pull away. “Felix, are you sure?” You chew on your lip. Is this a bad idea after all?

“Yeah, I-I... yeah, of course,” he says, a little breathless, but you're not entirely convinced. You start to move away fully but he quickly grabs your arm again. “No.. no, wait. Please,” he whispers. You see him visibly try to relax, taking a deep breath in and out. “It's okay. I promise. I was just caught off guard.”

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“No, no, you're good, you're fine. It was me.” Felix clears his throat and rubs your arm reassuringly.

You take a deep breath. “Okay… so.. here?” You lean back in to where you were previously, breath hitting his neck.

He swallows, and you see it because his Adam's apple bobs up and down right in front of your face. What the fuck. “Yeah. Just go slow and… you can start with kissing if you want. Don't overthink it,” he mumbles, sounding more like he's reminding himself of something.

You nod and slowly, so slowly, you lean in the rest of the way and press your lips to his neck.

You expected him to remain still but a small breathy noise escapes him and he leans his head further back, exposing more of his neck in the process. You swear you can feel his pulse thrumming under your lips. “Good... um.. yeah, just... kiss a little bit and then suck. You can use your tongue, too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can feel the vibrations against your lips when he speaks. What the fuck.

Your head feels fuzzy. You hesitantly place a kiss on his neck, and then another a little higher, and another, until you reach an area you're satisfied with. You almost want to pull away but remember Felix's words. Right. Just try not to overthink it…

He pulls a breath in through his teeth when you press an open-mouthed kiss and start sucking gently. At the same time, your tongue darts out almost automatically and touches his skin.

You feel him swallow thickly. “Y-You gotta… harder…” he murmurs. “Or it won't mark.”

You hesitate. “Won't it hurt?”

He blinks hard and shakes his head slightly. “Don't worry… I-I'll tell you if it hurts, okay? Just try. Do it like I did.”

You nod and take a deep breath before trying again, this time in earnest, sucking harder and pulling his skin between your lips and even past your teeth.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his grip on your arm tightening, “Like... like that. And you can.. use your teeth a little too.” His voice is getting thick, low, and raspy and, god, you feel a little dizzy.

But you want to please him, so you bite down softly and let your teeth run over the area. A quiet, high-pitched whine escapes his lips, and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth, body jerking back slightly. He suddenly seems to realize the noise he made and looks at you, wide-eyed.

You pull back again, a little breathless. “D-Did it hurt?” You really didn't think you bit that hard, but you can't hide the worry in your voice.

His hand drops from his mouth, face flushed and breathing labored. His eyes look a little dialed out. “No... no, it didn't.. hurt.” It seems like it takes all his strength just to say that. “Sorry, I just...” he takes a few more seconds to gather himself, “Um, kinda sensitive…”

…Sensitive? Oh. Oh. It was good. He liked it. You almost sigh in relief. But then… wait. He's sensitive there. He… Your brain isn't working. You find yourself leaning back in to his neck without thinking.

Felix doesn’t protest, just sits back, exposing more of his neck to you. You feel his body shudder when you lightly drag your teeth over the area before attaching your mouth more firmly and sucking at his skin.

He can’t stop the whimper from leaving his throat. “That feels really good.. you’re doing good,” he pants.

Your heart swells from the praise and you double down on your efforts. You hear him try to suppress another whimper but it’s more strained this time. It happens again and again, little noises and whines that you're not sure if he's even aware he's making. Every noise pulls and tugs at something in your stomach.

It feels intimate, so insanely intimate and you think you might combust on the spot if you go any longer. It's a bit nerve-wracking to pull away and face Felix but you force yourself to, licking your lips as you retreat.

Your eyes immediately widen at the sight in front of you. A pretty, deep pink bruise begins to blossom on his neck and your heart skips a beat at the realization that you did that to him.

Felix hasn't said anything. Is he upset? You chance a glance at his face and—

Oh. His eyes are closed and a faint sheen of sweat coats his flushed face, which is pulled taught in a mixture of bliss and something like pain. His chest is heaving, breath coming out in quick gasps. You stare at him, the only thought in your mind being: God, he's gorgeous like this.

He blinks rapidly and seems to finally come to. When he finally refocuses his gaze on you, he lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a weak laugh.

“...Good?” he asks.

Good? Good? Your head is spinning. It's not good. Nothing is good. Life is meaningless and everything you know exists on a floating rock spinning in the void and you think you're gonna pass out and never wake up. It's not good. It's fucking crazy. But you just mumble, “It's… showing up, I think…”

He raises an eyebrow. “That right? Let me see then.”

Felix grabs his phone and pulls up the camera, angling it so he has a clear view of his neck. He lets out a soft whistle, bringing his hand up to feel where the hickey is. You watch dumbly as he presses his fingers on it and lets out a shaky sigh. Then he looks at you and grins before throwing you a thumbs-up. “You did great. It's already pretty dark.”

You actually want to kill him. Your brain is melting and he's acting like this is the most normal afternoon of his life. Maybe it is. Does Felix do this type of thing often? The thought makes you shiver.

You throw your hands over your face. “I-I didn't mean for it to be that—like—ugh…”

His smile softens. “Hey, hey, you don't have to be embarrassed. It's…” he searches your face for a second and suddenly reaches over to gently pull your hands away. “It's not that bad. You did really good. Besides, it’s my neck, yeah?” His tone shifts to more of a teasing one, like he’s amused you’re overreacting a little. It just serves to frustrate you more.

You sigh. “Um… I really—it's really okay..?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course it is. It’s just a little mark, nothing serious.” He looks at you thoughtfully for a bit and you feel yourself getting flushed under his gaze. “You know.. you can try it again. If you want. Just to practice. Or for science, or whatever.” He laughs.

What. You’re stunned into silence. Science? You stare at him incredulously and he just grins back before leaning even further forward. This can't be your Felix. This is actually crazy.

Felix smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “…Come on.” He brings a hand up to your face and pokes at your cheek softly. “Do it again. Try a different spot. Make it darker.”

He's obviously teasing you. So you're flabbergasted when what comes out of your mouth is, “W-Where..?” Where? Literally what are you saying. Like, where is the nearest exit? Where has your own sanity gone? That's what you should be asking.

He shrugs. “Anywhere. The other side?” He points to the unmarked side of his neck. Then he pushes his shirt down slightly, revealing a sliver of his shoulder and collarbone before looking back at you, eyes expectant with a bit of an impish gleam. “Maybe.. here?” he mumbles.

Your head spins. Oh yeah, you're definitely gonna pass out. It's so over. Life and death and the universe… fucking craziness. You're falling. You're dying. Everything is melting. Nothing's real.

Oh wait, you're actually falling, your head plopping down on his shoulder as you let out an embarrassed groan.

You hear him laughing softly. “Someone's eager—”

You’re a bit confused but then your eyes focus on the place your head is now laying and—Oh god, you’re right where his shoulder and neck meet. Right where he just told you to suck a hickey. Great.

You instantly lift your head up, face burning. “No, I didn't—I wasn't trying to—”

He brushes the hair out of your face. “Hey, it's okay, I'm not forcing you or anything. Are you overwhelmed?”

“Um, yeah, but— y-yeah. Sorry.” God. How pathetic do you look right now?

“Don't apologize. I was just teasing. It makes sense to be overwhelmed. It's a new experience.” He sits back and laughs but there’s a bit of a nervous waver to it. “You're fine, seriously. Maybe we got a little carried away, huh?”

“Uhh— yeah….”

He gives you an apologetic look. “I'm sorry for being pushy. Let's just... just forget about the whole thing, yeah? Let's play some video games or something.” He clears his throat.

He's moving on but your head is still spinning. This really is the most normal afternoon for him, you think. Because how is he so chill? Your body is still buzzing with nervous energy and you can't just switch off and forget about it, can you?

You can't. “Uh— Uh, wait—...”

“...Yeah?”

You drop your head back down onto his shoulder. “Um… is it bad if I… kinda…”

You trail off and he doesn’t respond for a few seconds. You don’t dare move, waiting for something, anything. When he finally does say something his voice sounds strained. “Kinda what?” he asks quietly.

“Um.” Fuck. “Nevermind.” You go to draw back but Felix quickly places a hand at the back of your head, preventing any movement.

You hear him exhale quietly. “I don't mind, you know,” he whispers. “You can do it. If you... if you want to.” He slowly starts running his fingers through your hair. “If you wanna practice. The more you practice, the more comfortable you'll be with it, right?”

You hum against his shoulder, the justification mulling around in your head. Of course. Of course that's why you want to. For practice. For science.

He continues. “Yeah, do it. Uh, j-just, I mean— if you want. A-As practice. Try to… see how dark you can make it… or… ” For all the talk he was making before, he stutters now, and you can't help but find it a little endearing. Maybe he's actually a little nervous as well.

Fuck it. Who cares. You've lost the plot. You press your mouth against his skin, giving a few open-mouthed kisses before gently sucking at it.

You hear his breathing stutter and he shifts slightly. “Yeah, j-just…” he lets out a shaky sigh and presses his hand a bit more firmly on the back of your head, bringing you closer to him. The angle is still a bit awkward to reach, so without much thinking, you crawl slightly onto his lap.

“Oh,” he mumbles, his body goes tense for a second before relaxing again. He's completely still, like if he moves you’ll pull away, but eventually his fingers start running through your hair again. It isn't a particularly suggestive position, you're sitting back more towards his knees, but suddenly everything feels charged with tension.

You hear a low, almost imperceptible groan as you continue sucking lightly from the new angle. “You're doing really well,” he mutters encouragingly. “Just a little more… harder. And like, bite a little, remember?”

Right. You comply and bite down a little. Felix lets out a small whine, hand tightening in your hair. “Good… uh, just like that..” he mumbles. “You can try moving a little more, if you want—”

You don't need to hear more, instantly moving your mouth higher up his neck without much thought. His fingers slide down until his hands are completely resting between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer. Shivers run down your spine where he touches and you attach your lips to the side of his Adam's apple.

“A-Ah…” a shaky moan escapes him, taking both of you by surprise. His hands suddenly jump down to grip your waist tightly. Oh. He seems much more sensitive here. You swear you're dizzy. Maybe you're dying. You think you’re fine with that honestly.

You want to bite him. You let your teeth sink into the skin a little. He lets out a shaky half-laugh, half-groan, tilting his head back and pulling you towards him. “Y-You learn quickly.” A deep pink flush runs high on his cheeks, and his breaths are unsteady. You’ve never seen him like this, so undone, and it's making you feel powerful. You want more.

You decide to give in to that and bite down harder, feeling his body jerk. He moans, breathy, and whispers, “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that feels so good.” One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, fingers gently grasping the base of your hair. His thumb brushes up against your earlobe and for some reason it sets tingles off all down your spine.

…Does it really feel that good? You can't help but wonder. It mostly just felt weird on your arm but you suppose that's different. Different from your. Neck. Oh fuck, now you're thinking about it. His mouth on your neck. His mouth on your neck. You're floating. You're crashing. Everything is cool. Everything is burning.

Your brain is practically short-circuiting and you start sucking on the same spot before pulling back just enough to bite down and suck at it again, this time a little harder.

His breath stutters and you feel his head tilt to give you more access. There's another small gasp that comes out as a strained “Fuuuck…” when you continue. You think you're actually delirious at this point.

Then, “W-wait..” he says urgently, his chest heaving. His hand that was on your neck slides down to grab your shoulder now.

“That's… good. We should.. stop. I…” he pants heavily.

You pull away instantly. “O-Okay. Yeah. Sorry.” You feel restless, fidgety, more than just from nerves.

“No, you're fine, god. It's me. I'm getting too…” he shakes his head. “You did really good, I…” He presses his hands against his eyes and takes a few deep, slow breaths.

When he drops his hands he seems mostly back to normal. “Um.” He laughs a little. “We, uh… how's it look?”

You stare at his neck and shoulder. Oh, fuck. In truth, it looks fucking insane. Like he got mauled or something. Oh my god. That was you. What came over you?

He raises an eyebrow at your silence. “Guess I gotta see for myself,” he says and places his hands on your waist to lift you up and off of his lap. As if you weigh literally nothing. What the fuck.

With your head still reeling at how he lifted you like you're nothing, you don't really notice him reaching for his phone to see himself until you hear him suck in a breath.

“Wow… I'm gonna get so many comments tomorrow.”

“What?!” you shriek. Oh god. Of course it'll take a few days to fade. You hadn't even thought about that. The light mark on your arm is easy to brush off as nothing but the rosy hues on his neck are unmistakable.

He laughs. “I'm just kidding. I'll have to.. cover it with makeup I guess. Don't worry.”

“You better…” you mumble, embarrassed.

He hums. “Hmm… Well it isn't really fair... What should I do…” He leans in, studying your flushed face. “Wanna match?” he says with a cheeky grin.

“What?? Felix!”

“I'm joking! Jeez…” He pokes your cheek. “Unless all this blushing isn't just from embarrassment and you're actually into this?”

Your face is positively burning. “Shut up. You're annoying as hell,” you grumble.

He gasps dramatically. “After I gave up my sanctity for you to practice on me? This is how you treat me?”

You can't help but giggle at his dramatics but you quickly steel your expression and glare at him equally as dramatically.

You're really grateful everything seems to be normal on his end. You're trying your best to act the same, but in truth, you feel like a fucking mess. His joking comment about you being into this… No, definitely not. There's no way. It's probably just because it's your first time doing this with anyone, so of course it's going to feel crazy and weird and confusing. Right? Yeah. But still. Even long after the two of you move on, playing video games and hanging out like normal, you can't shake the feeling that something's weird. Something shifted. You don't know what the fuck it is though. You just try not to think about it.

How are you actually supposed to go back to normal after this?

—

a/n: so on a scale of 1 to 10 how painfully obvious is it that i've never given a hickey in my life.

no but um haha any feedback good or bad would be super appreciated!! pls leave a like or reblog if u enjoyed it makes me so happy. tysm for reading <3

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