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#hes so nicee wishing him the best etc etc
paradiseismine · 2 days
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Late Night Talking - Trevor Spengler x Reader
Love note from Nina: Aaaand I’m back again with some more Finnie cuteness and filth, lovelies. My boy Trevor is way too underrated around here, so it’s about damn time we turn those tables.
Pairing: Trevor Spengler (Ghostbusters Afterlife/Frozen Empire) x f!reader
Warnings: mostly smut, but also some fluff. Also maybe this is kinda long (?) sorry not sorry etc
Summary: you visit the Spengler’s residence for a dinner party and end up having a lot more fun than you intended, if you know what I mean
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Your mom and Mrs. Spengler had become best friends, all of a sudden - neither of them had had much luck on that when they moved to the city, but ever since they first met in a 7/11 a month ago, they were inseparable.
It was a Saturday evening, and your mom was dragging you along to Mrs. Spengler’s house, for a dinner party of some sort. You weren’t in the mood, but she seemed so happy to finally have a new friend, you just couldn’t say “no” to her.
So, all dressed up in a cute black dress and strap sandals, you rang the doorbell.
- Oh, hello - a tall lanky boy with messy black hair opened the door. - Good evening, Mrs. y/l/n… And you must be y/n, right?
You nodded, smiling sweetly, as your mom greeted the boy as well.
- Hi, Trevor! Your mom told me all about you - she said, giving him a warm hug after she handed you the huge cake tray she was holding.
It was pretty heavy - your mom wouldn’t show up to dine at someone’s house without bringing dessert - but you could manage to hold it.
- Callie, there you are! - she squealed as she hurried to meet Mrs. Spengler in the kitchen, leaving you and Trevor behind.
- She loves your mom - you said to Trevor, chuckling.
- My mom loves yours too - he chuckled. - Hey, can I help you with that? - he continued, gently taking the cake tray off of your hands.
- Thank you Trev, that was quite heavy - you said, relieved. - Should we bring that to the kitchen?
So you both put the cake in the fridge and helped your moms with everything - from setting the table to organizing the kitchen.
You had a great time eating and talking to Callie, Trevor and his sister, Phoebe. After dinner was over, the moms opened up a bottle of wine and sat on the living room to talk, while Phoebe went to her room to sleep.
That left you and Trevor alone in the kitchen, talking. It was already close to midnight, and by the laughs you could hear from the couch, you were not going to leave the Spengler’s home for a long time. Halloween was just around the corner, so you asked Trevor if he was into horror movies.
- Hm, kind of… - he responded, finishing his glass of soda. - I think they’re way too unrealistic sometimes.
- Ugh, wish I felt like that too… Movies like Poltergeist and The Conjuring totally freak me out. I’m just afraid of ghosts, I guess.
Trevor nearly choked, but you couldn’t understand why.
- Do you like slasher movies though? - he asked, trying to move on with the conversation.
- Yeah, I love them! - you answered, excitedly. - My favorite one is Friday The 13th!
- The first one?
- The best one, right?
- Absolutely - he laughed, then pointing to your moms in the living room - I think they’re gonna take a while there… Wanna go upstairs and watch a movie? It can be Friday the 13th if you want.
- Of course, I’d love that! - you said and walked over to the living room with him.
- Mom, Trevor and I are going upstairs to watch a movie, ok?
- Sure darlings, go there and befriend! - your mom agreed, her voice sounding a bit different already. Good thing you were driving.
You two went up the stairs to Trevor’s room, still talking about horror movies and your personal favorites; but you noticed he would talk just as excitedly about any subject. The conversation was light and comfortable. Trevor was so nice to talk to. He was also really good looking. Something about his lanky figure, dark hair and dark eyes really stood out to you.
Up in his room, you couldn’t help but walk around and notice the various objects he had in there.
- Whoa, do you like Arctic Monkeys?
- Their “AM” album is, like, most of my will to live. - he chuckled. - So yeah, I like them a bit.
- That’s an instant classic if I’ve ever seen one, right?
Turns out, you and Trev had A LOT in common. You were into the same movies, the same music and even the same places to hang out. He was working up the courage to ask you on a date already.
- So, uh… y/n, would you… would you like to go to that record store downtown with me… Sometime? It doesn’t have to be like a date or-
You put your index finger to his lips, and his eyes went wide.
- But can it be a date, though? - you whispered, your finger leaving his lips as you put your hand on his cheek.
- S-sure - he stuttered. He was much taller than you, even with the heels you were wearing.
- I would love to - you smiled, your hand still on his cheek. - I could talk with you all night if you’d let me.
- Me too - he smiled, putting his arm around your waist and leaning in a bit. - Y/n… can I-can I kiss you? Or does asking that totally ruin the mood?
- Of course you can! - you laughed. - C’mere.
You leaned in and your lips touched his, lightly. You touched your forehead to his and looked him in the eyes. He pulled you even closer by your waist and kissed you again, way more eagerly this time. His tongue asked for entrance and you permitted it, in pure ecstasy.
- Hm - he broke the kiss - maybe we could move this over there? - he said, his head pointing to an armchair on the corner of his room. You nodded, your lips parted and swollen from the kiss.
Trevor sat down on the armchair and you sat nearly on his lap, but sideways, so your butt was down on the armchair and your legs were all over his lap.
He put his hands on your bare knees and caressed them gently as you continued to kiss, more slowly than before. Your dress was a few inches above your knees. Nothing too modest or too slutty, but Trevor secretly wished you were wearing the sluttiest dress possible, just so he could feel you up without actually lifting up your dress and risking getting slapped across the face.
Little did he know you were craving that touch. You lightly guided his hands a bit further up your thighs, giving him the permission he wanted. To touch your soft skin and get intoxicated by you.
You kept kissing him passionately, your hands wandering from his cheek to his neck to his chest. You grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him ever closer, wanting to savor him as much as you could. He let out a soft moan on your lips, so discreet you wouldn’t be able to hear it if you two weren’t all the way upstairs in his room.
Things were getting hot and heavy pretty quickly, but isn’t it always like that you’re young? His hands were gently caressing your upper thighs for a minute, as if he was mentally debating a way to ask you to take off your dress, but gave up on that idea.
His slender fingers gently slid your panties to the side, only to meet your soaking wet pussy. You hissed and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you hungrily while slowly playing with your clit. His touch was so light, it made you ache for more; but at the same time, it was perfect. He continued for a couple minutes, your moans in his ear increasing. That had to be Trevor’s new favorite sound.
- Trev - you called, your voice faint and breathy. He looked into your eyes. His gaze was dark and full of lust. His swollen red lips were slightly parted, ugh, he was so beautiful… - If you keep going, I-I…
But you couldn’t finish that sentence. Your back arched and your mouth cracked open, your body completely taken by that orgasm. Your eyes were closed for most of the time, squeezed in pleasure, but when you peeked through them to look at Trevor’s face, he was grinning like the devil. He got you good and he knew he did.
- You’re so pretty - he said, mesmerized, his fingers still touching your pussy until you closed your legs and he realized you had ridden out of your orgasm. - and you look even prettier when you cum.
You sat there in his lap for a moment, head on his shoulder, resting a little from such an intense sensation. Trevor had quite a cocky smile plastered on his face, seeming proud of himself for making a pretty girl cum. For getting the chance to make a pretty girl cum and succeeding.
- Alright, so not only you’re all tall and handsome and stuff, but you also got magic hands? - you said, your hair ruffled and your voice breathy.
- Magic hands? Really? - he laughed.
- I’m serious. - you said, laughing with him. - But now I feel the need to… reciprocate, you know?
Trevor’s breathing quickened. You sat on his lap properly now, one leg to each side of his waist, straddling him while cupping his face for another round of passionate kissing.
His kisses found their way down to your neck, gently nipping on your skin, making you shiver and squirm. His fingers started toying with your dress’ straps until he felt confident enough to pull them down slowly.
The black lacy bra you were wearing underneath was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but the sight of your breasts is what made his mouth water. With your dress already down to your waist, he put his arms around you to try and unhook your bra. As boys normally do, it took him a few tries, but he finally got it off of your body, his hands quickly covering your breasts again, fondling them.
Your skin was so soft and smelled so good, his kisses returned to your neck and continued their way down to your chest. Your nipples were so hard already, he simply had to take them in his mouth. One at a time, he licked and sucked gently, earning some pretty urgent moans. You knew you had to keep the volume down so your mothers wouldn’t hear you two, but that couldn’t stop you from moaning softly, just enough for him to hear. Your body was a feast and he had never been this hungry in his whole life.
- I-I thought it was my turn, Trevor - you said, softly, his lips still kissing the skin around your nipples and his hands groping your waist firmly. Damn, this boy was definitely going to drive you crazy.
Kissing his lips once again, you reached for the hem of his T-shirt and slowly pulled it upwards. He helped you take his shirt off, and his bare chest was surely a sight to be seen. Back to the kissing, your hands now wandered from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest, to his belly and…
- A-are you sure? - he asked, as you were about to touch his belt to unbuckle it. He didn’t want to pressure you into anything.
- I am pretty sure - you said with a smile, playfully kissing his nose. - Can I?
He nodded eagerly, so you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Trevor just sat still and watched as your beautifully manicured nails were touching his belt, then his pants, then his underwear.
You knelt down in front of him, using a pillow under your knees for comfort, and pulled his body closer to the edge of the armchair. You kissed his lips one last time, then his neck, scratching his chest lightly with your long nails, causing him to moan and bite his lips to avoid making too much noise.
You kissed down his chest, your nails now scratching his waist, and finally got to his underwear.
- Can I pull these down too? - you said, your big eyes pleading.
- Yeah - he said, barely breathing. - Please.
You gave him a naughty smile and pulled down his boxers. It was impossible not to lick your lips at the sight of that cock. The perfect length, the perfect girth, and that perfect pinky tip begging to be sucked. So you did it.
You took Trevor into your mouth hungrily, as your mouth was already watering just by taking his underwear off. Your head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, as he tried his best to hold back any louder moans.
Suddenly, he grabbed some of your hair in his right hand and pulled your mouth off of his dick gently.
- Did I hurt you? - you said, looking worried.
- No, no, princess - he answered, scared that he might’ve offended you. - It’s just… you’re so so good… and so pretty… I’m afraid I won’t last, you know?
- It’s ok babe - you reassured him, caressing his bare knee. - You pleasured me selflessly, and I’m doing the same. If you want to cum now, then do it. I’d love to get a taste…
Your mouth went right back to sucking on his dick, your both hands now also added into the mixture. After a minute or two, it was too much for him to take.
- Y/n - he called, softly. You looked him in the eyes, mouth still around his shaft. You knew what was going to happen next. - I just… Please, can I cum in your mouth?
- Mhm - you agreed, not slowing down or stopping anything you were doing.
Trevor let out a muffled groan as he came in your mouth. You swallowed his warm seed at once, gently licking his tip clean afterwards.
- Fuck, you’re a goddess - he said, his voice faint, his eyes rolling.
You laughed a little and wiped the corners of your mouth.
- And you’re a darling. I’m glad you could trust me.
- Y/n - your mom called out from downstairs. - Is the movie over already? I think we should get going…
- In a minute, mom - you yelled in response.
You turned back to Trevor as he handed you your bra and put his own shirt back on.
- I had a great time with you today, Trev. Hope we can hang out sometime.
- Of course, I’ll text you - he started - there are already so many places I thought we could go together… You might just be the best company for basically everything. Specially late night talking.
You grabbed his phone off his desk, typed in your number and handed him the phone. Realizing what you just did, he smiled and held out his hand so you would give him your phone and let him do the same.
After the exchange of phone numbers and a quick good night kiss, you two got downstairs and pretended nothing had happened.
- There you are - Callie said as she saw both of you. - What did you guys watch?
- Friday the 13th - Trevor lied for both of you. - It was her favorite horror movie, and one of my favorites too.
- Aw, how cute. I’m glad you guys are friends now - your mom said, grabbing her purse. - But those old slashers have some awkward sex scenes, don’t they? We heard their moaning from down here.
- Glad they make movies more gory and less sexually charged nowadays, right? - Callie agreed.
Your moms were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember much about tonight. Thankfully, ‘cause your face and Trevor’s got just as flushed as if you had spent the entire night sipping wine.
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abysslll · 8 months
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hate that i can't let go of old online friends
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heavenknowsffs · 9 months
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Been dying my hair natural red/orange since 2016. 2016. And yesterday my redhead friend was telling my ex fwb who she was trying to get to bed "it's funny how much she's trying to look like me by dying her hair and cutting it like me and curling it"
2016
We're in 2023
It's been 7 years i didn't even know you then
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marimogf-archived · 4 months
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it's mr. steal your girl!
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synopsis: getting stood up by your boyfriend on your birthday? don't worry, your best friend, infinite flirt satoru gojo, will never let you down!
genre / au: porn with a little plot? best friend!satoru, best friends to lovers, little fluff at the end, very little angst
contains: EXPLICIT CONTENT (MINORS DNI), afab!reader, slight dom!satoru, reader wears makeup and a dress, cheating, use of petnames (good girl, sweetheart, baby etc.), daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, photo taking, shitty bf naoya; wc: ~4.1k
happy reading, i hope you enjoy! as always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!! 🩷
PLEASE READ MY DNI BEFORE INTERACTING!
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satoru gojo is a player. or so the rumours say. everyone who talks about him says so. dubbed “mr. steal your girl” with how fast he had people falling for him, taken or not. that he's overly flirty, he hooks up with people on a whim and is not a fan of commitment.
but oh dear, was he committed to getting into your pants.
ever since he was introduced to you, arms interlinked with your boyfriend, naoya, he fantasised about being what the zen’in brat was for you. he could never treat you right, unlike satoru.
over time, the two of you got closer and closer, much to naoya’s dismay. but who was he to stop the great satoru gojo from seeing you? exactly.
most of your conversations were about your boyfriend. satoru telling you how much he hated how the zen’in heir treated you, how he was trying to keep you to himself and how you deserved better. the smile on his face fading whilst he listened to you defending naoya, trying to be a good wife-to-be, not expecting anything back from him.
satoru’s everlasting smile turned upside down, trying to understand what it was about him that had you so wrapped around his finger.
even today, on your birthday, he wasn't there. and yet you never uttered a bad word about him. even on this important day, he didn't care.
naoya had been called to an emergency clan meeting, apparently forgetting to give you a head’s up. not even a “happy birthday” text, nothing. you had waited for an hour at the restaurant until you got the call from him, telling you that he was tired after the meeting and wishing you happy birthday in that disgustingly bored tone of his.
with your heart in pieces, you called satoru right after, not wanting to waste the reservation and have a nice dinner either way. he took it as an opportunity to scrutinise naoya again, rightfully so.
“please, he could be treating you so much better. he acts like you're just an incubator for his heir and it's honestly annoying. he doesn't respect you at all and never will. he doesn't keep you around to marry, you're just a fleshlight for him. does he make you cum?,” he stated, sipping on his way too sweet tea.
you gasp at his lewd question, slapping his arm lightly and looking around to see if anyone heard him. heat was rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.
“what are you saying, of course he does!” you hissed, lying through your teeth.
satoru smirked, catching you red-handed. “you're lying and not even good at it.”
with a huff, you crossed your arms and watched how his eyes dipped to your accentuated chest and back to your face.
“okay, maybe he doesn't and i have to fake it sometimes but it still feels good. why do you even care?”
the white-haired man leaned forward, head resting on his large hand. his ocean eyes peering into yours over his sunglasses, making you squirm in your seat.
“because i want my best friend to be happy and making you cum is a part of that. it can't be that hard to make you orgasm, even naoya could do it if he cared. but he doesn't. hell, he stood you up on your own birthday because of his stupid clan meeting!”
you squinted at him, trying to ignore the thrumming in your chest as you uttered the next words.
“what? like you could treat me better?”
oh, now you've done it.
he finished his drink before grabbing your wrist and pulling you away to his car. the drive back to his apartment was tense, his warm hand on your thigh as he concentrated on the road. you squirmed, not having expected him to actually take the bait.
yes, he was your best and closest friend but he never lied about finding you hot. he never lied about his distaste for naoya, always bragging how much better he would treat you if you just gave him a chance. but because he was satoru gojo, the infinite flirt, you never thought he'd actually mean it.
he parked the car, getting out to open the passenger door for you. placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the front door. the smell of his cologne was overtaking your senses, getting dizzy at the prospect of actually getting in his pants.
unlocking his apartment door, he took off his sunglasses before gently taking your hand and guided you to the bedroom. as you took a tentative seat on his bed, looking around the room to avoid eye contact, satoru took a few steps towards you.
“we don't have to do it, you know. wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the zen’ins. not that i couldn't protect you. i’ll kill them if needed,” he said, kneeling in front of you and placing a warm hand on your knee.
“i just can't stand to see you so upset on your birthday and i wanna show you what it's like to be treated well because your dickhead of a boyfriend can't.”
your heart broke because you knew on the inside he was right. naoya didn't care about you at all, it was all a facade for his parents so they would stop pestering him to get married. but he never had any intention of putting a ring on your finger or having a long term relationship. you never even met his family, he didn't even invite you to his home. it was a purely physical relationship with someone you weren't compatible with with no regard for you. and for what?
it hurt. it hurt bad and you wanted satoru to take the pain away.
your eyes rose to look at him, tears brimming in them. as always, satoru read you like an open book. no matter how much you would try to hide it, he was always acutely aware of your emotions. when you nodded, giving him the green light, he smiled widely.
he rose, face to face with you, before gently kissing you and tasting the tears that started to roll down your cheeks. a whine escaped your throat, instantly being swallowed up by satoru’s lips and stored away in his memory. your eyes fluttered closed and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks once again.
his lips were so perfectly soft against yours and your hands slid up to his chest to grip his shirt. his big hands were on your neck and cheek, holding you close as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip.
your lips parted willingly, letting his tongue slide against yours. meanwhile, your fingers did quick work of the buttons of his shirt, leaving him in just a black tank top that stretched over his muscular pecs. your hands slid underneath the shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and exposing his toned arms.
his hands slid down to your shoulders, playing with the straps of your skimpy dress. he pulled away, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he watched your already dazed expression.
“you were trying to get some tonight, hm? dressed like that,” he murmured against your lips. his smile widened as you nodded, averting your gaze in embarrassment. though he wasn't the man you had intended to be in bed with, you weren't complaining.
satoru was an attractive man, no one could deny that. his snow white, fluffy hair, his cerulean blue eyes, his soft lips. down to his lean build, muscles invisible under his baggy clothes and only exposed to those who have the honour to take him to bed.
“i know i’m not your boyfriend, but i’ll show you how he should be treating you,” satoru’s voice was low and his tone so sincere that tears burned in your eyes again. his calloused thumb wiped away the stray ones escaping, kissing your mascara-stained cheeks.
his kisses started travelling lower, along your jawline and down your neck. you closed your eyes with a sigh as satoru’s soft lips explored your hot skin. he gently pushed you back onto the soft mattress, his lips never leaving your neck. his tall frame towered over you, a feeling of safety embracing you.
he alternated between sucking and biting, marking you as his. quiet moans left your lips as his large hands found your soft breasts, massaging them through your dress. your nipples were already perked up, visible through the thin fabric.
“‘toru…” you whimpered, hands gripping his broad shoulders. your sounds were music to his ears. he pinched your nipples through your dress, making your back arch into him. that gave him the perfect opportunity to slide the straps off your shoulders, exposing you to the cold air in his bedroom as well as his hungry eyes.
“what is it, sweetheart?” he taunted, leaning down again to ravage your chest, hot mouth engulfing your perked bud. you whined, your hands finding purchase in his soft hair. the other breast was also getting attention. his big hand squishing it, rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers. switching sides, the cold air made your saliva-slicked bud even more sensitive. he gently bit your nipple, making you moan his name and pull his hair.
pulling him off of you, he looked at you with dilated pupils and a cocky grin on his lips. your heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall.
“please, just make me forget about him.”
your dress was off in seconds, leaving you just in your skimpy lace underwear that sported a wet patch already. he took off his clothes down to his boxers equally as fast before focusing his attention back on you.
you felt so small underneath his intense gaze, his body framing yours as he leaned over you again to kiss you feverishly. you pulled him closer, hands wandering over his hot skin, feeling his muscles twitch and flex. satoru had a way of making everyone around him feel small due to his height but now you truly felt tiny underneath his large frame.
his kisses trailed down your chest again, going lower and lower until he knelt between your legs, nipping at the skin of your thighs. you sat up on your elbows to see his darkened eyes and his nose nudging against your covered cunt, inhaling your scent.
“all this for me? you shouldn't have,” he smirked, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed clit. you whined his name, wiggling and hinting at him to get on with it. he let out a chuckle and hooked his fingers under the waistband to pull your soaked underwear down your legs, a string of arousal connecting your cunt and the fabric. throwing the skimpy fabric over his shoulder, he placed his warm hands on the inside of your soft thighs as you tried to close your legs.
“nuh uh, baby, let me see what naoya’s been claiming.”
satoru gojo may not be a fan of commitment. but currently, he was hopelessly devoted to you.
okay, you and your wet cunt in front of his face. your folds were glistening with arousal, the scent of it overtaking his senses. all for him and him only.
he had dreamed about this for a long time. to have you like this underneath him, bashfully writhing and moaning for him to hurry up.
his lips found your thigh, fangs showing to nip your skin and mark you. you were watching him intently, mouth agape and drool threatening to run out of the corner.
when his hot tongue finally made contact with your pussy, your head fell back and a loud moan left your lips. the wet appendage was lapping up your juices and he moaned at your sweet taste. his eyes were trained on your face, brows furrowed in concentration.
he was dead set on fulfilling your wish. to make you forget your shitty boyfriend, erasing every bad memory from your mind and body.
his hands gripped your thighs, nails leaving crescent marks as your hips moved on their own, grinding against his hot mouth. his tongue flattened against your clit, providing you with just enough friction to grind against.
his scalp started to burn pleasantly with the way you were pulling him, using him to get yourself off. his tongue was so hot and wet against you and his lips curled into a smile when he noticed your moans getting louder and your hips stuttering against him.
he pulled away just as you were tiptoeing on the brink of orgasm, a needy whine leaving your lips.
“hah… why'd you stop, ‘toru? please, wanna cum,” you whimpered and he almost gave in if it wasn't for his plan.
his fingers spread your lips, watching your tiny hole clench around nothing. your glistening arousal dripping down your hole made his mouth water again. his long middle finger slid into your warmth slowly, your arms giving out underneath you and your back arching towards him.
he curled his finger upwards, finding the spongy spot in your walls almost immediately and abusing it right away. whimpers left your throat and you gripped the sheets next to you, fucking yourself on his finger.
“fuuck baby, s’tight. naoya isn't fucking you right, is he?”
a rhetorical question. if he would, you wouldn't be in this predicament.
he added a second one, his larger fingers stretching you out and reaching spots inside you that naoya never could. but just as you were close to cumming, he pulled his finger out, leaving you high and dry again.
“why'd you do that? i wanna cum, ‘toru, please, just let me,” you cried out, leaning up on wobbly arms with huffs and puffs.
“because i haven't given you your birthday taps yet.”
your eyes widened at his insinuation. satoru grinned at you before his big hand made contact with your pussy again.
but not in the way you had hoped and wanted.
a harsh slap echoed through the room, followed by a whine from your lips. the man between your legs grinned, fangs shining in the low light of your bedroom.
“c’mon baby, you gotta count,” he teased, calloused fingers drawing gentle circles on your swollen clit. “for good luck.”
you couldn't concentrate, feeling dizzy at the stimulation and your two denied orgasms already. but to satoru’s delight, you started counting. he kept going, always giving you a little breather in between and rubbing your clit or pushing his fingers inside you to keep you on edge. your thighs were trembling, littered with marks and your voice was starting to give out at the halfway point.
“please ‘toru, i wanna cum so bad,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist and looking at his smug face with tears rolling down your cheeks.
“you're almost done, baby. if you finish without cumming, i’ll give it to you,” he spoke, thumb rubbing your hot skin soothingly. truthfully, satoru didn't even know how he was lasting, dick painfully hard and dripping against the mattress. but he restrained himself somehow.
for you.
the last few slaps against your cunt were torturous, stars dancing behind your eyes with each slap and the coil threatening to snap.
“okay, you're done, baby. did s’well, you deserve a reward now, hm?” satoru teased before plunging two fingers into your dripping pussy, his tongue wet against your clit.
your back arched unnaturally off the bed, hands gripping his white strands. you almost blacked out from the pleasure as your hips gyrated against his fingers.
“oh, s’good, tha…thank you, thank you,” you panted, chasing ecstasy, “fuck, feels so good.”
“yeah? better than your shitty boyfriend?” he cooed, watching you get yourself off on him. your skin was glistening with sweat, the smell of your arousal filling the whole room and your moans just music to his ears.
“can't believe he'd wanna miss out on this,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. not that you would've heard, too busy getting lost in the pleasure.
“m’close, pleasepleaseplease, daddy!! please let me cum!” you begged and satoru’s heart leaped out of his chest at the nickname. he'd never expected you to call someone daddy but now that he heard it once?
he never wanted anyone else to hear it.
“come on then, make a mess, baby,” he said, giving you the green light, “make a mess on daddy’s fingers.”
satoru watched in delight as your body convulsed and your cunt gushed clear liquid into his waiting mouth. he was drinking up your juices and moaning against you, prolonging your orgasm. he slowed down his fingers, giving your clit kitten licks before pulling out with a wet squelch. his fingers were drenched in your juices and he lifted himself up, pushing his fingers past your lips.
he could've sworn he blacked out for a second when you looked at him with fucked out eyes and heart-shaped pupils. sucking your essence off his fingers and moaning around them.
“fuck, you're so hot. i can't believe he doesn't wanna fuck you 24/7. such a good girl,” he whispered. you whined, brain scrambled from how hard you came.
he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, giving you a heated kiss before rummaging around his room for a condom. once you came to your senses again and realised what he was looking for, you called out to him.
“satoru.”
he turned around, looking at you getting on your hands and knees shakily and looking back at him. his dick twitched in his underwear as you wiggled your ass at him, cunt dripping onto the sheets.
“you don't need one.”
at the premise of fucking you raw, he got behind you, boxers discarded in seconds and his fat cock grinding against your wet heat. your arousal was lubricating his length before he slowly pushed into your warm, wet cunt. he let out a moan, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. he bottomed out, feeling you clench around him and he tried his hardest not to bust right there.
“oh m’god, so big,” you whimpered, arms threatening to give out. one of satoru’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up and closer to him. the other snaking up for his hand to cover your throat and squeezing gently. his chest was pressed against your arched back, his whole body caging you.
“yeah? like being filled up with daddy's cock?” he whispered in your ears and you whined, feeling your cunt stretching out. his hand snaked down to your sensitive clit, slowly circling his fingers and adding to the stimulation.
“s’good, daddy, please fuck me,” you moaned, drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you held onto satoru’s strong arms.
he started moving at your command. slowly, gently, feeling your walls hug his length so deliciously. his dick hit every sensitive spot of your walls, mushroom tip nudging against your cervix.
“fuck, baby, y’r so tight, so good f’me,” he grunted, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your shoulder before picking up the pace. his hips snapped against yours, your tits jiggling with every thrust.
your lips were parted, letting out a constant stream of moans at how deliciously painful satoru’s swollen tip bruised your insides. stretching you out and nudging that gummy, sensitive spot inside you that had you reeling towards the edge.
“g’na cum again, daddy. pleaseplease let me cum!” you whined, nails leaving red marks on his skin as you struggled to keep your hold on him. satoru smirked against your skin, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a groan when you clenched around him. you were trying so hard to keep it in, to be a good girl.
all for him.
“cum for me then, make a mess on my cock, baby,” he whispered in your ear. he held you close to him as you shook, pussy clenching and gushing around him and soaking the sheets.
“oh fuuck, oh my god!” you whimpered when he slowly thrusted into you. he was prolonging your orgasm while inching closer to his own, your sensitive walls hugging his length so tightly.
satoru let go of you, letting you fall to the mattress. one of his hands gripping your hip tightly. the other was grabbing your hair, pulling your torso up. putting his foot onto the mattress for leverage, his thrusts began to speed up, a constant slapping sound echoing through his bedroom. his pink lips were parted, letting out deep grunts and moans of your name.
“gonna fill y’up, baby. gonna breed this little pussy, get you all nice and pregnant, so that asshole knows you’re mine. you'd like that, wouldn't you?,” he grumbled, completely pussydrunk.
“please, daddy, fill m’up, make me yours,” you mewled, absolutely drunk off the way he was hitting your g-spot over and over again. the coil in your stomach was tightening yet again.
his hips snapped into you, just a few thrusts more until he was stilling inside you. bottomed out, he let out a long moan as rope after rope of his cum painted your insides white. the warm feeling of his seed made you cum yet again, coating his length in your essence.
you two stayed still for a breath before satoru pulled out with a lewd squelch, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of your clenching hole. he grabbed the flesh of your buttock, using two fingers to push his cum back into you. he then took your phone, snapping a picture of your leaking cunt and sending it to naoya.
captioned: “it's mr. steal your girl! :3”
he wanted to block the contact but refrained, just for you to see his reaction. while he got off the bed, you flopped onto your side, heavy breathing making your chest rise and fall. he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your sweaty forehead, whispering that he'll be right back.
you didn't come back to your senses for a while, trying to make up what actually happened. guilt and anxiety overtook you, but the pleasant buzz of sex overshadowed it soon enough.
satoru returned quickly with a wet washcloth and a glass of water with a straw. he held it out for you, watching with heart-shaped pupils as you emptied the glass in mere seconds. the wet washcloth met your face, gently wiping away the sweat before he reached between your legs, wiping away the remnants of both your orgasms.
your eyes were struggling to stay open, trying desperately to fight sleep. a content smile lifted the corners of your mouth, a gentle simmer overtaking your heart.
“so this is how the great satoru gojo treats his hookups, huh?” you mumbled, not really expecting an answer. satoru’s hand settled on your cheek, thumb rubbing soothingly over the hot skin. the gentle touch forced you to look at him, tears burning in your eyes at the prospect of facing your actual boyfriend.
as if he could read your troubled mind, satoru leaned down again to press his lips against yours, trying to convey the loving thrum of his heart with just a kiss. but just in case it wouldn't work, he parted from you to speak.
“you weren't just a hookup though. this is how the great satoru gojo would treat his potential girlfriend if she would finally break up with her scumbag of a boyfriend,” he murmured, nose nudging yours, forcing an exhausted giggle out of you.
“but good thing, i already did it for you!” he held the phone up to your face, showing you the photo he sent to naoya as well as the slur of angry messages that followed, including one stating that he was breaking up with you. reading through it all with a slacked jaw, a breathy laugh erupted from your chest.
the realisation hit you in the face. you were finally free from the zen’in clan and their horrid heir. not that they'd care anyway.
“you're unbelievable, satoru!”
he took the liberty of blocking the contact now, setting your phone down on the nightstand.
“i truly really like you, i didn't just wanna give you some mind-blowing birthday sex. not that i’m complaining,” he laughed, reaching out for your hand. the giggle that left your lips had his heart doing somersaults.
“i truly want to see you happy and i’m a firm believer that you would be by my side. i know i always joke about it but i’m being honest right now. will you please be my girlfriend?” he asked, voice quiet and almost insecure which was an unusual phenomenon.
you felt your heartbeat pick up, the organ thrumming against your ribcage. you always had eyes for satoru. truthfully, you got with naoya out of spite in hopes that the feelings would subside. but the truth would always prevail.
“is that a rhetorical question? of course i will!”
satoru gojo, "mr. steal your girl", has only ever stolen one girl in his life and that was you.
but by god, was it worth it.
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a/n: WAHHHHHHH it's finally out of my system!! this is dedicated to my favourite gojo fucker @jabamin for her and gojo's birthday 🩷 (everyone go wish karina a happy birthday or else 🫵🏼) thank you to @tojiella for your help proofreading, also tagging @screampied @ramonathinks @c0pkiller @tetsuskei and @gojoest as fellow gojo lovers teehee. i hope you enjoyed, love you so much 💗
© marimogf 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.
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drunkhazed · 5 days
Text
Heaven & Back (p. sh, l. hs) 1/2
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Gods & Monsters—>(yes, you have to read this first.) pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung
genre. step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, M/F, fluff smut humor angst etc, buckle up it’s a wild ride
warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon- is he batshit? maybe.), profanity, toxicity, sibling rivalry, mentions of alcohol/addiction, hangover symptoms, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 24,000
now playing. Heaven and Back//Chase Atlantic
a/n. unfortunately I had to split this part in half because of length, will post the second half as soon as possible. thank you all for reading🩷
smut warnings. public hand job/fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, drunk sex(consensual, but it gets a bit painful), multiple orgasms, degradation, oral, choking, face-fucking, cream pie, thigh riding, finger sucking, etc etc
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Sunghoon.
There’s no way to explain the way Sunghoon treats you justifiably. He’s cold, hot, lukewarm, makes blood rush to parts you wish he had no prowess over. 
He’s someone you would have dreamt about in your younger years. The most popular, best looking, top of the class, everyone’s crush to write about in their diary after school. What he wore that day, how his cologne smelled, the millisecond of eye contact you thought he made with you. He really shouldn’t even be sitting across from you right now sporting a diabolic scowl, really showing off how pink the ring on your middle finger left his cheek after smacking him across the face to get out of your room. 
He’s everyone’s dream, an angel, the perfect prince charming, and he’s your hell. Slightly smirking at you the longer you continue to glare at him and dig the tip of your butter knife into the dining room table, as if to tempt you to try it. Chuck it at his gorgeous face, slice his cheek open with your pathetic excuse for a weapon. 
He’s the nightmare that snatches you up when you’re most vulnerable, the nightmare that lulls you to fall asleep earlier just to experience sooner. The darkest of dreams that make your heart race, gasping for breath when you shoot awake lost in a spiral of confusion. And yet he can be found in your most safest comforting spaces, infiltrating every area of your life.
“Heeseung, nice of you to join us.” Mr. Park exclaims surprised, eyebrows raised up further wrinkling his otherwise smooth features. “Haven’t had a family dinner at home like this in ages.”
“Yeah, Hee, what brings you out of your gloom and doom bat cave tonight?” Sunghoon asks, a snarky pitch to his tone with his gaze unwavering from yours even as his brother chooses the seat next to you. 
Heeseung shrugs, reaching beneath the table to find your hand and tangle his fingers between yours. “Hungry.” 
“Well, that’s great. Look at us!” Mr. Park beams happily, reaching for your mother’s hand atop the table to do the same. It’s daunting to watch unfold, instinctively squeezing around the thicker digits wrapped with yours. “One big happy family.”
Sunghoon snorts, playing it off with a cough and reaching for a glass of water while pretending to choke. “Went down the wrong pipe, excuse me.”
Heeseung’s thumb brushes over your hand, sensing the tenseness in your grip as you squeeze again. “Everything okay?” He whispers, leaning closer to nudge your shoulder with his.
So soft spoken, so delicate with you as if you’d shatter from a touch too harsh. He’s imperfect in ways that make him flawless, from haphazardly placed messy tendrils that fall before his eyes, to the genuine happy dorky smile he shows only for you. He’s safety, warmth, the blanket you cuddle deeper into that takes away all of your worries even if only for a moment.
The worry of what you’ve gotten yourself into has really built up, stuck between two opposites that seek the same endgame. There’s a way the older handles you, treats you like a fine piece of art that should be hung up and admired, can really only be described as heaven.
Heeseung, he’s your heaven. He’s your dream.
And yet you’ve grown attached to the nightmares that steal your precious sleep. The danger and fear of something so physically perfect ruining every wall you put up until you’re nothing but his.
You nod at him, reassuring him that you’re fine with a small smile.
He’s really perfect for you. He’s comfortable, adorable when his cheeks bunch up and he blinks at you slowly as a form of communication that only the two of you can understand. 
Well. Sunghoon understands too, making a disgusted face as he rolls his eyes and leans back to stretch his legs out under the table. “Dad, actually, I’m glad we’re all here. You see, I wanted to bring this up before we wrap up the semester next week.”
“What’s going on son?” Mr. Park turns to face him, missing the startled bounce you make as sock covered toes glide up your calf. 
“It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper family vacation, actually.. I don’t think the one we took to Florida should count.” He jokes, motioning toward Heeseung. “Right bro? We barely got to enjoy the water park.”
“It was Disney.” The older mutters, pursing his lips. Clearly not interested in rehashing the surprise trip their parents took them on to announce their split before dragging them off to different hotel rooms and leaving on separate flights. 
Mr. Park clears his throat uncomfortably, tapping on the dining table. “Now son.”
“I was thinking!” Sunghoon grins, running his foot higher to dig between your locked knees. “With all of us now, we should really use this opportune moment to make memories. Next year I’ll be slammed with studies and my internship, Heeseung will be.. moving out, hopefully.” He mumbles, subtly shifting his sharp gaze back to you, patting your knee with the ball of his foot. “And you’ve always dreamt of visiting Europe.”
“That is true.” Your mother speaks up, sighing dreamily. “Italy and Paris are so beautiful this time of the year my love.” 
She’s not speaking to you, tightening her grip on Mr. Park’s hand as she leans in to whisper by his ear for all of you to hear. “A second honeymoon?”
“Hmm,” he grins, pleased by the thought. “Ah yes.. mon chéri. You’d look delectable in front of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Sick.” Sunghoon says under his breath, motioning toward you and Heeseung. “All of us, you too big bro. I mean— look at how close they’ve already gotten, isn’t that Heeseung’s sweater?”
The thumb caressing your hand slowly pauses, shifty eyes catching your mother’s attention turn back to you. “Huh? All that money I spent on your nice clothes and here you are stealing your step-brother's hoodies?”
“Uhh..”  Sunghoon manages to shove his foot between your legs while you scramble to explain, saved by Heeseung pointing at himself.
“You know what, I must have mixed my laundry in with the wrong pile again. I’m always doing that, my bad.” 
“Well sweetie, that’s fine around the house.” She says with a forced smile, reaching to pinch the fabric on your arm. “But don’t start wearing this outside, will give your potential suitors the wrong impression.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would you?” Sunghoon interrupts, fighting against your hand pushing at his foot. 
“Right, noted.”
“It’s settled!” Mr. Park chimes, unaware of the tense atmosphere that his little brat of a son has created. “Just booked our flights, we’ll do a few days in Italy and then get the train to Paris.”
“Fabulous!” Your mom shrieks, forgetting about the oversized hoodie you have on as she leaps into her husband’s arms and plants kisses up and down his cheek.
“Wonderful.” Sunghoon says, clasping his hands together. “A summer vacation all together, like one big happy family.” He nods at you and Heeseung, shoving his foot away abruptly and making sure to knock your hands apart. “Can’t wait.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Traveling expands your mind, it helps you to learn about yourself and to grow as a person. Exploring new countries is a once in a lifetime experience that you’ll recall for years to come.
But traveling is also a pain in the ass, especially given the predicament you’ve landed yourself in.
“This is ridiculous.” You mumble under your breath half-asleep, curled up in the backseat of an XL Uber at the crack of dawn. 
“Aren’t you kids so excited?!” Your mom turns with a huge smile plastered on her face, clutching at the leather seat to get a good look at you squished against the door. “Boys! Make some room for your sister!”
The three different sounds of disgusted groans mesh into each other as Heeseung and Sunghoon adjust by pressing their thighs together, both coming in and out of sleep.
“I always dreamed of vacationing with a big family like this.” She continues, much too energetic for 4 in the morning.
“Yes honey, it’ll be a real treat for us.” Your step-father says uninterested, reaching to pat her thigh. “Don’t forget to tell them the best part.”
“Oh right!” She pipes up, turning back around to search through her purse. “Your father wanted to make this really special, especially after our discussion over dinner.”
Sunghoon straightens up, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the three plane tickets she pulls out and waves between the seats. “Your father was gracious enough to hook you guys up with business class! The seats are a lot more spacious!”
“Oh wow,” Sunghoon chimes, attempting to snatch them only for your mother to smack his hand away. “Business class for all of us? That must’ve cost you a pretty penny dad.”
“Not all of us.” His father corrects, turning slightly to lower his prescription glasses down the bridge of his nose in a snobbish manner. “We will be in first class.”
Sunghoon’s jaw drops, jerking forward as the driver rushes into a spot at the terminal drop-off. “What?! That’s not fair!”
“Do you have a job?” He says quickly with a sharp tongue, smirking and exiting the vehicle with nothing left to say.
“What about us?! Your kids?? There’s still time to upgrade our seats!” Sunghoon chases after him, luggage dragging behind as you follow suit to check your bags.
“I got it.” Heeseung says, throat still dry and gravelly having just rolled out of bed and fallen back to sleep against your shoulder. 
“Ah, my bags are really heavy Hee.”
“I can handle it.” He reassures through gritted teeth, the wind knocked out of his chest as he hoists your luggage onto the scale. “You pack a dead body?”
“Not yet.” You wink. “Who knows, by the end of this trip Sunghoon might be chopped into little pieces inside of my carryon.”
“I’m sorry about this, you know.” Heeseung’s arm lifts to wrap around your shoulder, pausing midair hesitantly as you both follow your parents and Sunghoon continues to bargain with your step-dad into the security line. “Genuinely feel so bad that we’re all here accompanying you on your dream vacation.”
“Could be worse I guess, could’ve just been me and Sunghoon.” Nudging into his side, you ease into the space under his arm with a smile. “At least you are here too.”
“Ah, I don’t know about that..” Heeseung plays with his messy hair, a nervous habit, biting down on his lip. “I haven’t flown in such a long time. Not since I was a kid and would fly to stay with my Grandma during summer. Never done an international flight either..”
“Are you nervous?”
“Kind of..” he hates to admit it, looking away shyly as you step out of your shoes to walk through the body scanners.
“Don’t be nervous.” Smoothly, you bump into him as you attempt to hop back into your shoes, face meeting his chest. “I’ll take care of you.”
Heeseung’s cheeks redden instantaneously, followed by the high pitched tone of your mother’s voice squealing and cooing over your ‘sibling relationship’.  The blush rises further, making way to his ears as he ducks to look away under Sunghoon’s furious gaze.
He snatches the tickets from your step-dad, charging toward you to hook his elbow with yours. “Come on sis, I’ll buy you some coffee.”
“Aww, what a doll!” Your mother sings, waving you off before you can begin to protest.
“You can thank me at some point you know.” Sunghoon says snarkily, pulling you closer to his side the further you get from your gate. “You get to experience Europe in luxury now thanks to me, even get a nice early entry to your fancy overpriced seat now.”
“I’ll have to make sure Mr. Park knows how grateful I am then.” You sneer, pushing him away to get in the single file line of exhausted travelers desperate for a taste of caffeine. Sunghoon hums, draping himself over your back to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and lightly press his lips to your ear.
“And how do you plan to show Mr. Park exactly how thankful you are?” His lips lift against the shell of your ear into a smirk, gently kissing before pulling away to order, signaling for you to add yours.
“I can pay for my own.”
“Quit being a brat.”
“It takes one to know one.”
“Is that what you’re into?”
The cashier stares between the two of you, uncomfortable and mouth agape. Sunghoon quickly displays a charming smile and adds a hefty tip along with the payment, gripping your arm to drag you to a corner and continue on where you left off.
“Is that it?” He grins, flattening a palm to the wall above your head to trap you in place. “That whole emo grunge soft boy shit, it’s not just an act huh? What? Heeseung lets you slap him around in bed too or something?”
“He’s your brother.” You snap, shoving at his chest.
“Well what is it?” Sunghoon sinks down onto his knees quickly, sliding large palms down from your waist to your hips. “Want me to act like some pathetic groveling puppy for you?” He blinks up slowly, sucking in his bottom lip only to release the pink flesh with a coat of spit. Frantically you glance around, thankful that everyone seems too caught up in their phones or focused on the baristas working hard behind the back bar.
“I can do that for you too.” He keeps going, pushing his mouth out into a cute pout. “I can be whatever you want me to be. Go on.” Hands on your hips tighten, kneading your curves to encourage you. “Pull on my hair, maybe you’ll like it more than you think.”
His head lowers more, shooting your anxiety higher until his fingers find loose laces and his tongue clicks. “Can’t walk around with your shoes untied.”
“Hoon..” instinctively, you reach to stroke through freshly washed silky black strands, adding a light tug as you reach the crown of his head. Half-lidded lost eyes peer up at you, drawing your digits to ball up and form a fist, pulling with more frustration.
“Harder.” He mutters, successfully tying your shoelaces. 
“Stop it.” You grit, fisting the tendrils trapped between your fingers roughly. “Get up.”
Pretty pink lips part open, tongue dragging across the top row of his teeth with extra time along his sharp canines. “Is that an order?”
“Two Americanos for Sunghoon!”
Breaking into a smile, he jumps up fast and steals a kiss before turning away to grab your drinks. “That’s my name!”
You haven’t even made it onto the plane yet, let alone the next two weeks in different foreign countries.
Fuck.
He smiles at you as if nothing out of the ordinary has just happened, passing your drink to you before turning to grab a wad of napkins. With a swift pointed glare aimed at his back, you rush ahead to get away from him, not wanting to allow him more alone time with you. As long as you stick by your parents' sides and Heeseung’s, he shouldn’t be able to bother you much..
“Everything good?” Heeseung tugs his headphones off to hang on his neck, eyeing the Americano in your grip and your flustered appearance. 
“Yeah.” You swat at the air with your free hand to brush it off. Biting your tongue to hold back a curse under your breath about how God damn annoying his younger brother can be. The evil little shit in question plops down right across from the two of you sipping on his coffee with raised eyebrows and a hint of smile playing at his lips.
“Oh, sorry for not getting you anything bro.” Sunghoon apologizes sarcastically, blinking in a mocking manner. “I know how upset your stomach gets from rollercoasters, gonna be tough for you being up in the air for this long.”
Heeseung smiles tight-lipped, slowly nodding and reaching to pat your knee. “Can I try yours?”
“Of course.”
Without missing a beat he smirks and leans into your hand, tipping the drink to his lips, not even bothering to take it from you, subtly sneaking a look at his brother’s expression falling into a disappointed frown from the corner of his eye. “Yummy.”
Sunghoon’s teeth grind, distracting his mouth with a long sip of his drink, obnoxiously stirring the ice around inside. Silently wishing for his brother to be struggling in the small plane bathroom with a line of angry travelers waiting for him to make the walk of shame back to his seat after blowing up the airplane's toilet. He laughs at the thought, rolling his eyes as you reach to wipe away a droplet of watered down caffeine from Heeseung’s lip with your thumb.
Disgusting.
“Kids, you father and I are boarding now!” Your mom bounces over, clapping excitedly. “We have priority, ciao my darlings! Next time I see you we’ll be in Italy!” Blowing a kiss, she spins back around to join your father in line, handed a glass of champagne before they even step on the plane. Real fancy.
“Can’t believe dad shafted us like this.” Sunghoon groans, eyeing his ticket before leaning over to read yours, lips pouting in thought. “Say, Hee, what’s your seat letter?”
Heeseung hums, lifting his ticket for both of you to see. “C?”
Pouty pink lips lift up, smacking his ticket against his palm as he jumps to stand and nods toward the flashing light announcing for business class to board next. Without another word he moves along ahead of the both of you, standing separately in line as you take a minute longer to grab your carry-on and end up a few behind him in line. 
Heeseung chews on his nails in the meantime, eyes jumping around your gate, patting his pockets with his free hand. “Hee, you’re really nervous, aren’t you?” You ask, concerned by the little jump he makes at the sound of your voice. Immediately dropping his hand from his mouth, he rubs his stomach in an attempt to hide the audible sound that emits, shaking his head quickly with a forced smile.
“A little bit.”
“It’ll be okay baby, I promise.” You have to smile, rubbing his back soothingly as you walk onto the plane, mumbling to yourself about how cute he is.
“Row 23.” Heeseung says, lifting his ticket to read and scan the aisle numbers. “Should be right her—“
Sunghoon sits in the aisle seat, already leaned back with wireless headphones popped inside of his ears and his eyes shut. “Oh, we’re all together..”
“Ugh, well..” you grunt, shoving your bag onto the carrier above your row. “You should take the window, I think it’d help to have a hard surface to rest against if you feel nauseous at any point.”
“Are you sure?” Heeseung asks apprehensively, scratching his nape, feeling guilty. “Didn’t you say something before about loving the window seat..”
“These seats are pretty big.” You nod reassuringly, nudging him to sit down. “Never seen this much leg space before.”
“That’s because this is business class.” Sunghoon mutters, eyes remaining shut with a relaxed expression. “Not even a quality business class at that.”
“I think it’s nice.” You whisper, rolling your eyes as you settle down between your step-brothers. Stuck in the middle once again, the common theme your life seems to insist on following as of late.
“Yes, well.” Sunghoon’s neck twists, scanning your body up and down. “I’ll have to show you the real luxurious way to travel next time.”
Next time.
Glaring at him, you purse your lips and turn to sit on your hip, leaning against Heeseung’s side. “How’re you feeling?”
“Not bad..” he nods, clutching at the armrests at his sides as the plane begins to move. “Shit.”
“Here, you should take some of my melatonin gummies so that you can at least try to sleep.” Digging through your bag, you look up just in time to see his eyes scrunch shut, lips pulled over his clenched teeth to hold down a cry. 
“Shit, this doesn’t feel too great.” Heeseung whispers, dropping his chin just in time for your hand to cup his cheek. 
“Hey hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re with me.” Trying to lift his face up, you bring the gummies to his mouth, nodding for him to take them. “Sleeping through the flight makes it speed by.”
Heeseung nods, swallowing the gummies with a kiss along your fingertips to finish. He sighs frustrated, head knocking back against the headrest. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Biting down on your lip, you pat his cheek and reach for the blanket provided by the plane, unwrapping it quickly to drape over your laps. “I think I know what can help..”
Sunghoon seems fast asleep as you peer over your shoulder to find his head tilted to one side, lips parted releasing shallow breaths. Scooting closer to Heeseung’s side, you lift the armrest between you, sliding a palm up his thigh. Initial surprise has his leg jumping up, eyes going wide in question.
“Shhh.” With a finger pressed to your lips you move closer until there’s zero to no space left between you, sneaking your hand up to his groin beneath the blanket. His lips part with a small sound, pupils large and dark, successfully distracted by your fingers wrapping around the shape of his length over his sweats. “To help you sleep..”
Panic rises up his throat, scanning the area before nodding and giving you the go ahead. He bites down on his lap the second your fingers trace beneath his shirt and play around his navel, circling the area before tickling your way down to the waistband of his sweats. “Be good.” You whisper, pressing your lips to his ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
He could grovel at that, eyes fluttering shut and back open to bump his forehead into yours with a knowing look. Letting you know how evil you are for this and how much he likes it judging from the way his cock twitches under the smooth glide of your palm sliding past his boxers. 
A soft haziness draws his eyelids lower, hooded and heavy as you wrap around his size and pump him to full hardness. To anyone passing by you could simply appear to be cuddling, resting your heads together as a makeshift pillow, warm and cozy sharing a blanket. It’s nothing suspicious you wouldn’t normally see on a flight, but the thrill of it excites the both of you enough. Wrapping tight around his length to pull your fist down to the tip and smear a bead of pre-cum across his slit.
Heeseung hisses, biting down on his lip to contain any further sound of pleasure, gently nodding against your forehead to continue. Clutching your thighs together, you work to twist your wrist, jerking his length up and down with the help of wetness leaking from his tip. 
It’s all hot breaths of air fanning across each other’s lips, the ends of your noses tapping occasionally, eyelashes tickling your cheeks. Drowsiness and arousal written across his face the more you work to stroke his length, expertly squeezing around the head how he likes. 
“Fuck.” He curses, head dropping back to take deep breaths with his eyes shut. The bob in his throat moving up and down at a fast pace much like your hand. The hand job’s mostly dry, just slick enough to coat your palm to rub up and down without going too fast. It’s enough given your current situation to have his ass lifting off the chair, fucking up into your warm tight grip. Grasping the armrest on his right side he nods rapidly, turning to huff over your mouth. “I’m cumming.”
Without worrying about the mess you kiss him softly, noses pressed together as you finish him off and the lightest squeaked out moan sings across your lips. He falls flat to the seat instantly, head rolling from side to side as you cup around his cockhead to catch his release. 
Heeseung’s chest rises and falls quickly, taking in deep breaths with a hint of smile on his face, turning to the side to mouth ‘thank you’ when you draw free and reach for the blanket wrapping to discard the mess in your hand. 
“Sleep.” You mouth back, kissing his cheek before grabbing your purse to clean your hands off with a wet wipe. 
Peaceful eyes blink at you slowly, head resting near the window, blowing you a kiss. “I’ll have sweet dreams thanks to you now.”
Fixing the blanket to cover his upper half, you settle back, squirming in your seat uncomfortably now with wetness stuck between your thighs. The seat of your panties clinging to your core the more you move to adjust. A gasp drops from your lips, jumping up at the arm slinging over your stomach from your left. 
Sunghoon’s head drops to your shoulder, body slouched, hand landing between your thighs. Squeezing your lips, you jerk against him, bumping your shoulder on his cheek that swells up against you. “Ugh.”
Settling back in your seat, you roll your eyes, circling his wrist to at least remove his hand from the awkward position he’s ended up in. Thick fingers cup over your mound as you start to pull him away, lowly grumbling against your shoulder. “Thought you got away with that, didn’t you?”
Snapping your head to look at him, Sunghoon peers up behind thick eyelashes, squeezing your center over your pants. “Did all that for him and he can’t even take care of you?”
“Hoon.” You whisper sternly, nose twitching angrily. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Oh, I was.” He sits up only a bit, dragging his lips up the side of your throat to your earlobe. “But all of that—“
He pants mockingly- hah- ha- ahh-hah against your ear, finishing with a light peck. “You expect me to sleep through all of that noise the two of you were making?” His tongue clicks, glancing at Heeseung fast asleep next to you. “Can’t believe how fucking lazy he is, letting you suffer like this on a long flight?”
“I’m fine.” You grit. “I wanted him to sleep.”
Shaking his head, he releases you to grab his own blanket off his lap to throw over yours with his hand returning, shoving between your clenched thighs. “Well, good news for you, I’ve slept enough.”
“Sunghoon.”
It’s to your detriment how easily you ease up at the sight of his teeth gleaming, forehead resting against yours as he begins to smile. “Say my name again.”
“You’re seriously a piece of work.”
“You’re drawing too much attention.” He snickers, squeezing your inner thigh. “I can’t have you losing sleep over this problem.” Biting down on his lower lip, he positions his chin on your shoulder, gaze low to where his hand moves beneath the blanket. 
“I’m not touching you.” You hiss, thigh jerking.
“You’re so mean to me..” he huffs a laugh, nose brushing along your throat. “First you didn’t even want me here, now you could care less about how exhausted I will feel when we land?”
“Why should I care.”
“Because I care,” he breathes, eyes fluttering open to look at the side of your face. “About you.”
“No you don’t.”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.” Thick fingers sneak in past the waistband of your sweats, accommodating easily with the extra space. Good thing you opted for looser bottoms to stay comfortable on this flight..
“You shouldn’t.”
“Then tell me to stop.” He whispers, lips grazing your earlobe. 
The tips of his fingers follow the damp seam between your folds, pushing the cotton material of your underwear deeper. Silence grows louder with your breath, leaning back into your seat as he taps your bundle of nerves, stroking down lower. 
“Tell me to stop.” He repeats, eyebrow raised.
You should. You really need to stop him. Why won’t your mouth work, why can’t you stop.
You swallow instead to coat your quickly drying throat with saliva, shivering as he laughs lightly against your ear. “That’s what I thought.”
His strong digits wrinkle together the seat of your panties, drawing them to one side to free your core for his touch. Soft light airy touches kiss up and down, the tip of his fingers working through the mess of wet slick that’s permeated. “You’re lucky this is a long flight, bet you’ve soaked right through.”
He tucks in closer, gaze lowering back to your lap that jerks up with each motion, forearm moving up and back down as he coats your cunt with arousal from top to bottom. “You got this wet from jerking him off?” He breathes out, teeth clenched. 
He goes on without your response, circling your entrance that pushes out another wave of wet heat, convulsing against his touch. “Wanna be inside your tight hole.” He says huskily against your throat. “Should let me fuck you right now while he’s sleeping.”
Fuck. It’s his fingers dipping inside to the first knuckle that has your eyes rolling back, sucking down a whimper as you turn away only to see Heeseung sleeping cutely, lips pouted, panting short breaths out. Turning away, your nose lands in Sunghoon’s thick head of hair, inhaling a deep breath of his clean freshly shampooed scalp, adding to the dizzy atmosphere surrounding you.
“Should we? You know I can’t make it fast.” Thrusting his fingers in further, he lifts his face to look at you, eyelids heavy. “Should I meet you in the bathroom? Fuck you over the sink.”
“Hoon..” gritting your teeth, you have to bite down on the sides of your tongue to not moan. Three thick digits move in and out of you faster, sending up sounds of wetness past the blanket between your bodies.
“You’re so wet,” he huffs, thumb pressing on your clit, swiveling your nerves in a figure eight. “Wanna be inside you so bad.”
“N-no.”
“Ah,” his tongue clicks, biting back a smile, cheek dimpling. “It’s always no with you, where’s the fun in that?” 
Fearing that you’ll let out a moan, you purse your lips together, the back of your head glued to the seat. 
“We could join the mile high club.” He laughs quietly, pushing his fingers in as deep as they’ll go from this angle. Reaching the ends to find the spongy spot inside of you. “Doesn’t have to be now, we always have the flight back.”
His forearm jerks, heel of his palm smacking against your clit, digits shaking in place. Gripping his wrist, you stare at him pleadingly, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Wanna cum?” He asks, moving closer to shove his other hand inside. Without skipping a beat he circles your clit, massaging the stiff nub as he continues to assault your insides. “Squeeze that tight pussy around me, wanna suck you clean off you hand.”
Fuck.
That’s all it takes to push you over, nails digging into his forearm hard enough to leave crescent moon pink and red marks behind. A moan sneaks past your lips, masking the sound with a cough, kicking your feet on the floor. 
“What a good girl, listened so well.”
To make matters worse, he brings his glistenings digits to his lips, gaze trained on yours. “Now you can sleep.”
“B-but..”
Sunghoon’s tongue passes between his fingers, leisurely licking at the mess coating his skin. “Don’t worry about me.” He hums softly, sucking his middle finger between his lips. “Not the first time you’ve blue balled me.”
“I can,” you stutter, directing your eyes to his lap. “..do it.”
“Sleep.” Popping his digit free, he grabs the blanket and tucks it around your arms. “I’ll see you when we land.”
The tip of your tongue itches to say more, swallowing down the incessant urge to say anything else. He’s right, this is for the best, you should sleep.. even if it feels peculiar and out of the ordinary. 
Maybe he’s bored? Getting tired of you? Maybe it’s Miyeon..
As if he can hear your rampant thoughts, he turns and plants a kiss on your cheek. “I like being the last to touch you before you sleep, you’ll dream of me now.”
Yeah. He’s definitely not getting over you.
His cocky smile fades away as he lays back and sighs, eyes falling shut. “Now sleep.”
Right. Sleep..
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“That flight was a lot easier thanks to you.” Heeseung says between a yawn, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Thank you.”
“S’not a problem..” trying to ignore Sunghoon’s presence, you exit the plane together, catching up with your parents who also take time to stretch and rub the sleep from their eyes.
After an hour more at the airport you get inside of another taxi van, once again stuck between the two brothers. 
“Get all that jet lag out of your system, kids.” Mr. Park says, pushing his sunglasses on. “We’ll be at the hotel soon, another hour or so.”
Luckily for you, Sunghoon takes his instruction to heart and immediately succumbs to sleep, setting in how tired you still really are after such a long flight. The rides calm and quiet to the hotel thanks to the time difference. Even as your eyes fall shut you’re mindful to not get too comfortable, keeping your neck up and not resting on Heeseung’s shoulder. Nothing that could raise questions or possible suspicions while in the presence of your parents.
The hotels every bit of five stars you could only ever dream of, greeted by a bellhop who takes your larger bags, led inside to a luxurious lobby fitted with beverages and fruits for guests.
“This is real nice.” You mumble, slowly spinning to admire the art details painted on the ceiling.
“Expected a Holiday Inn, did you?” Sunghoon snorts, adjusting his carry on.
“Alright kids, here’s your keys. Don’t bother us unless it’s an emergency.” Mr. Park laugh’s jokingly, immediately fixing his expression. “I mean it.” 
“Be good.” Your mom adds, wrapping around his bicep. “Time for the honeymoon we deserved darling.”
Heeseung grabs your smaller bags, sleepily nodding toward the elevators. “Least we won’t have to see them with their tongues down each other's throats.”
The ride up to your floor remains silent, the three of you too exhausted after dealing with customs and the long shuttle ride from the airport. You can’t help but feel partially grateful for the lack of awkward tension after what took place on the plane. 
“This is our floor.” Sunghoon announces, removing himself and his belongings first. 
“I’m number 203.” 
“Oh, I am too?” Heeseung slows down, watching as his brother unlocks the door to room 203. 
“It’s a suite..” 
“What’d you think princess? That we’d each be getting our own rooms.” Sunghoon says condescendingly, nodding to one of the doors. “I’ll take that one.”
Heeseung sets down your bags, taking in the large living room leading out to a balcony and spacious kitchen. “It’s not bad, could be much much worse. Which room do you want?” 
Offering him a smile as a silent thank you for letting you choose first, unlike someone else, you pass across to the room near the kitchen instead of the one next to Sunghoon’s. “Oh it’s a little small, no bathroom..”
Heeseung calls you to the other free bedroom, pointing out the connected bathroom. “You should take this one, I don’t mind the smaller one.”
“I’m sure you’ll hardly spend time in there anyway.” You say mischievously, drawing him in to squeeze around his waist. “Can’t complain, only way my first time here could possibly be any better is having you here.”
He nuzzles into your hair, taking in deep breaths, hands caressing your back. “Wish it could be just the two of us..”
There’s a pang of guilt that thrum’s through your chest, burying your cheek against his chest for warmth. Without saying more than a sound of agreement you can’t erase the sensation of Sunghoon’s touch between your legs mere hours ago. 
You shouldn’t feel immense guilt, you’re not technically in a relationship, but you could have stopped him.
You could have said no, could have not indulged him, could have broken his damn wrist..
But you didn’t, and that’s enough to have you cowering further into Heeseung’s hold. “Tired.”
“Me too baby, let’s get some rest.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Let’s relax today.” You suggest, stretching out your arms as you approach Heeseung and wrap him in a tight hug. “Flight was so long, and my body clocks all off. Wanna go down by the pool for a bit?”
“A little late for a swim, don't you think?” Mimicking your position, he loops around your waist, sliding his palms down to where your bottom bubbles out. 
“We’re in Italy..” 
He chuckles softly, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. “Go put on your swimsuit, I’ll be back here in a minute.”
Sunghoon lingers around the kitchen area, pretending to scour through the different hotel provided snack options he can have charged to the room. Pretending to not listen or watch out of the corner of his eye as you stand on your toes to press a kiss to his brother’s cheek and run off to get pool ready. Of course, you won’t invite him, wouldn’t even think of it.
But that’s fine. He grins, picking up an apple from the gifted basket decorated with only premium quality fruits. He huffs a breath, shining the red apples skin on his shirt as he makes way to the balcony with a perfect view of the hotel's pool, and boy, is it perfect. 
Because Sunghoon has a perfect clear shot of the two of you walking in, of the stringy red bikini hugging your curves beautifully, of Heeseung’s hand on your hip as he leads you to an empty cabana. Even if he can’t eavesdrop on your conversation at this distance, it’s good enough to keep an eye on how the two of you interact. Especially if he has anything to do with it, even better because neither of you will have a clue that your little pool date involved a third participant today.
“Hello, I’d like to order a bottle of your best Dom Perignon for my friends. They’re honeymooning and I’d love to surprise them with this gift.” Sunghoon explains to the bartender working the pool's bar, switching his focus to the bald man on the phone jotting everything down.
“That’ll be $290 sir.”
“Charge it to the suite, and throw in some of your best shots while you’re at it, keep them coming.” He instructs, biting down on his lip to contain a laugh. “Tell them it’s a gift from the hotel, something standard for your guests so that they don’t turn it down. Sweet kids, they’re too humble and refuse to accept my gifts.”
“Of course sir, will do.”
“Great.” He hangs up, watching as a waiter carries over a tray, the smile on his face growing as your face morphs to one of shock and Heeseung waves his hands to refuse the offer only for your surprised smile to fall into a pout.
Yes. Perfect.
 “Aww come on Hee, why not?!” You whine, throwing yourself against his side to wrap around his arm. “Pleaseee, we don’t have to drink all of it.”
Heeseung visibly cringes, gaze shifting between you and the waiter. He lets out a long sigh, rubbing at his temples. “I really can’t drink any.”
“Heeseung, when will you ever be on vacation in Italy like this again?” Sitting up, you thank the waiter and motion for him to set down the tray, thanking him for the generous gift. The chilled champagne pours like liquid gold, taking a deep breath as you bring the flute to your nose and raise your eyebrows at him. “And not just in Italy, but with me.”
He laughs, face lifting to one side as he looks away and you crawl closer to him with another flute in hand. “Please? Just for fun, we could both use it after that flight.”
You really could use it after that, shaking off the thought of Sunghoon’s hand sneaking it’s way between your thighs.
“Just one drink.” Heeseung states, reaching for the flute you’ve extended toward him. 
“To our first vacation.” Smiling, you clink your glasses together, practically moaning as you take a sip and your eyes roll back. “Oh, I really needed that.
Eyeing his own drink anxiously, he nods, admiring the way your shoulders instantly relax. It’s been over a year, he’s been good, stayed on track. One sip can’t hurt? It’s just some fancy champagne..
With a deep breath he brings the glass to his lips, sucking down a swig of mind crushing nightmares, demons he’s kept at bay until now. 
One sip can’t hurt, but by the fifth time you’ve filled up his cup Heeseung can’t stop smiling. Can’t stop littering kisses up your chest and neck, can’t stop himself from feeling your body freely without a care, without concern for who could walk by.
“See? This is fun..” you giggle, lightheaded and tipsy by the time you empty the bottle. “This is what I needed.”
“Me? You needed me right?” He asks flirtatiously, nipping at your jaw. “God, you’re so sexy.” 
“Stoppp.” Heat prickles your cheeks as you shove at his chest, reaching to cup his chin and push his lips out into a pout. “You’re so cute when you’re drunk.”
Heeseung blinks slowly, still in touch with his sober mind enough to register what you’ve just said clearly. “Never heard that before..”
“Whattt? I tell you how cute you are all of the time.”
Shaking his head, he circles your wrist and kisses your palm. “Usually everyone hates me when I drink.”
I hate me when I drink.
He sighs, curling up to your side, dragging your knuckles up and down his mouth as he loops your fingers together to hold your hand.
“What’s wrong baby?” You frown, pushing his hair back to gently pet his forehead.
He shrugs, blinking away moisture that’s made its way to his eyes, hot from the buzz building in his stomach. “Nothing right now, nothing’s wrong when I’m with you..”
“Mmm.. there is one thing.” You continue, clouded brain speaking with more confidence and honesty than you would sober. “Your brother, he’s such a pain in the ass.”
Heeseung’s smile returns, nodding and kissing your knuckles. “You’re right, he’s always been that way. Ever since we were kids. Sometimes I blame myself.”
“Why would you blame yourself?” You pause for a second, wanting to add that there’s nothing he could have ever done to encourage such deranged psychopathic behavior. “It’s your dads fault Sunghoon is the way that he is, if anything.”
“He’s definitely a part of it.” He agrees, pressing closer to your side. “Always feel like I could have done more, I should have done more. When our parents separated, that’s the last vacation I ever really went on..”
“I remember, sort of, that being mentioned..”
“I guess because we were so young, mom and dad didn’t think it’d be such a big deal. They promised to take us to Disneyland, only when we got there they checked into separate hotel rooms..” taking a deep breath, he eyes the empty champagne flutes sitting on the tray, now wishing for more to magically appear. “Mom told me we’d be taking a different flight home from dad and Hoonie. I didn’t really understand until we ended up at my grandparents house and stayed there for another year..”
“Fuck, no way, they just split you up like that without an explanation?” You ask, frown dragging down more. 
“I started to understand after a while and.. once I figured it out.” His eyes fall shut, opening up to the same waiter returning with a flight of cocktails and tray of shots. “I started to drink.”
“Oh! Cocktails!?”
“Yes, for the lovely couple.” The waiter grins, setting the tray down. “Enjoy.”
“This is seriously the best hotel ever!” You cheer, too excited to down another drink to notice how much Heeseung’s frown has deepened, screaming at himself to not reach for another drink. “Wow, Hee you have to try this, oh my God this is seriously like drinking candy.”
“Yeah..” he whispers, fingers twitching. “One more can’t hurt.”
“Of course not! We’re on vacation babe, come on.” 
With a more sober mind you wouldn’t have missed his tortured expression. Clear level headed thoughts could have stopped him from downing the next drink, from grabbing another, from slurring that you should order some more.
“Wait,” you hiccup, laughing, moving onto his lap. “We were talking about Disneyland.” You say cutely, tongue growing heavy inside your mouth. “Right?”
Heeseung’s glazed over eyes pan up and down your body, clutching your hips hungrily. “Yea that was,” he laughs, head shaking. “Worst vacation ever, l-last time I really saw Hoonie. Until high school.”
“High school?” Half registering what he’s even saying, you start to roll your hips down against him, bottom softly rutting on his crotch. “Whattt?”
“S’long story.” Droopy eyelids blink at you, tucking his bottom lip in, palms traveling to your butt. 
“Tell meeeee.” You giggle, grabbing onto his shoulders. “That’s suchhh a long time?”
“Yeah it’s uhh— I don’t know. But Hoon, he really hated me. I started dating his crush or some shit.” He grunts, throat turning dry as he tries to focus on your waist curving in with each fluid movement. “I dunno, s-so dumb.”
“Seriously dumb.” You moan, completely lost in your blurred thoughts. The conversation flying over your head. “I think we should get back to the room babe.” You pant, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter. “Getting late.”
“One more drink?” He slurs, a lazy smile lifting one side of his face as he leans in to kiss your upper lip. 
Shaking your head, you cup his cheeks, pressing your lower halves together harder. “I wanna go to the room, now.”
Letting out a sigh, he abruptly pushes you off, moving onto his knees to wave over the waiter. “In a bit.”
Landing against the cushion on your side you glare at him confused, clenching your thighs together as you sit up. “Hee, what the fuck?”
He waves you off, taking another shot, and another, and another..
The few minutes it takes for him to guzzle down the tray clears up your head enough to snap out of your mostly horny partially buzzed daze, grabbing his arm and tugging roughly. “Let’s go, right now.”
“One more.” He mumbles, losing balance when you pull again. 
“Only thing you need to drink for the rest of the night is water.” You grunt annoyed. Struggling to stand up with him, carrying his mostly deadweight against yourself. Christ, how much did he drink? 
The waiter had kept the shots coming, and while you took longer to recover after 1 drink, Heeseung had managed to down 3 faster than you could even straighten your vision. He makes a displeased sound, stumbling with your help toward the elevators.
“You’re sooo pretty,” he sulks, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to his stomach out of fear that he’ll stumble and hit his head. “You really would look better with him.”
“What?” You mutter distractedly, blinking at the lit up list of floor numbers while trying to find the room key with your free hand in his pocket. “Who?”
“Hoonie.” He sighs, banging the back of his head against the wall with a grimace. “You’re all pretty and jaw dropping. I get why he’s hung up on you.”
Hung up? On you? Instead of contemplating that you successfully get the elevator moving, letting out a deep breath as you turn to face him and cup his warm cheeks. “Do you get why I’m hung up on you?”
He smiles drunkenly, more cute than usual somehow, shifting his face to kiss your fingers. “Are you? Cause—think I’m crazy about you.” He hiccups, eyes falling shut with a smile. “Being here with you makes everything better.”
“Yeah?” He shouldn’t be this cute with enough alcohol on his breath to set off a breathalyzer. But he nods and leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I’m saying too much, right?” He laughs, cheeks brightening up with pink even more. “Always do this—thisss why I shouldn’t drink.” 
“I dunnoooo..” the elevator dings open, stopping at your floor, wrapping him in your hold to drag down the hall. “I like this Heeseung.”
“Why?” Grabbing onto the door frame when you stop, his neck bends forward to whisper by your mouth. “Why do you like me?”
There’s uncertainty swarming all across his big glossy eyes, scanning your face anxiously. “Why would you like me more than him?”
This is what Heeseung means when he says he shouldn’t drink, because an inebriated brain lacks shame, lacks the fear of being humiliated. The insecurities he hides with sobriety come to light, and much to his displeasure many of them trace back to his younger brother.
“If you come in here and drink a lot of water with me like a good boy, I’ll tell you all of the things you want to hear.” You reassure, pulling him to follow you inside the shared suite. The suite that you wish Sunghoon wouldn’t utilize so much, because of course he’s sitting on the living room couch watching an old Italian black and white film; hardly watching with his peripheral vision focused on the two of you near the entrance.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Making sure to keep your voice low, you avoid the eyes you can feel taking in every inch of your exposed skin, tripping on your way to Heeseung’s room. 
“Mmmph.. but don’t leave me.” He whines behind you, wrapping around your waist. “Stay with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere lovey.” He seems reluctant to believe you and let go as you try to get him to sit on the bed. Grabbing a hold of his face, you squeeze his cheeks until his lips puff out, completely enamored by the baby talk he keeps slipping in and out of. “I’ll be right back, you really need to drink water. I do too, like, badly.”
“What?” Grabbing for your hips, his eyebrows wrinkle together. “No no.”
“Hey, what did I say?” You retort, pinching his cheeks. “Don’t make this difficult, I’m trying to save you from the fat headache you’ll wake up with tomorrow if you don’t chug some water, alright? I’ll be right outside, won’t take long.” His pout deepens, shoving his lips further out for a kiss.
“Okay.” Content by the light peck you give him, he lets go and slumps back against the bed. Head spinning now that he’s sat down and can’t focus on the ceiling despite blinking many times. “Shit, I really am drunk.”
“Which is exactly why you need to drink water.” You mutter, heading out to the kitchen. Both of you really need to replenish your hydration, you can’t wake up hungover on vacation, it ruins everything. And judging by the way Heeseung can barely walk on his own two feet, he’s destined to wake up with the most bruising headache tomorrow.
“Guessing that you two were partying it up out there.” Sunghoon’s deep voice rumbles from behind you, causing you to jump and grab onto the counter as you reach for two cups. “Here, I’ll get that.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it.” Of course he’s too fast, reaching over your head with both of his hands. One to grip your forearm and the other to grab a cup.
“You’ll drop it.”
“I’m not helpless.” You snap, elbowing his chest that’s pressed much too close to your back.
“I know you aren’t,” stepping back, he gets you another cup. Motioning toward his brother’s bedroom. “Haven’t seen him like that in a couple of years.”
“We’re on vacation.”
“You really shouldn’t let him drink.” He says, backing away to lean against the kitchen island. “He’s an addict, in case he hasn’t mentioned it.”
“I know, not that it’s any of your business.”
Sunghoon makes no effort to hide his sharp gaze dragging down your figure, licking at the top rows of his teeth. “We all have our vices.”
“Even you? The epitome of perfection?” You mock sarcastically, tilting your head. 
The smirk that stretches his face only solidifies how much he likes hearing that. Nodding and leaning back on the counter before raising an eyebrow at you. “Of course I do, care to take a guess?”
“Not really.” You scoff, reaching for water bottles only to be stopped by his arms caging around you, lowering his face near yours.
“I think it’s obvious what I’m addicted to.” He says quietly, eyes half-lidded as he glances down to your bikini-clad chest. “I can’t seem to get enough these days.”
“I think that you should seek help for that problem.”
“Do you?” A well groomed thick eyebrow raises, daring you to stop his hands from moving to your hips. “Because I could really use the help.”
“What’s taking so lon—“ Heeseung mumbles, leaning against the fridge as he rounds the corner from his room and immediately frowns. “What the fuck is this?”
Sunghoon shrugs, squeezing your hips firmly before pushing off. “Nothing man.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he spits, glaring at the younger through bleary glazed eyes. “Why don’t you fuck off?”
“Takes a lot of liquid courage for you to ever speak to me that way.” Sunghoon grumbles, turning away with a wave of his hand. “Not interested in hearing this boozed up bullshit. It was nothing.”
“Hee, it’s okay.” You whisper, wrapping around his waist. “Let’s get back inside the room alright?”
He seems reluctant, digging his feet to the ground weakly continuing to dart lasers at the back of his brother's head. “Fine.” Letting out a tired sigh, he lets you push him back to his room, eyebrows furrowed as he grabs onto your shoulders and looks over your face.
“Was he trying anything?” There's a lack of assurance behind his question. Whether it be due to the alcohol or not, you can’t swallow down your guilt fast enough this time.
“No!” You laugh uncomfortably, scratching at your nape. “You know how he is.” 
“Yeah. That’s the problem. I do know.” Heeseung rights his jaw, lips tight, stepping around you to storm back into the living room. “Hey, little bro.” He calls out, cracking his neck loudly. 
Sunghoon appears at his door, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in an amused manner. “Hey, big bro.”
The older scoffs, eyes darting around the room, halting at a large clear bottle full of tempting poisonous liquid. “You wanna keep fucking with my girl?”
Distracted by the bottle, he fails to see Sunghoon’s amused expression morph to one of confusion, misses the way his eyes light up when his brother uncaps the bottle of vodka. “Your girl?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Heeseung spits, taking a swig from the bottle, unbothered by the acidic burn running down his throat.
“Hee, we drank enough..” you intervene, placing a hand over his. “Come on babe, let's get in the shower.”
“S’not why we came back up here.” Ripping his hand away from your touch, he steals another swig, free hand untying one side of your bikini bottoms. “Is it?”
“Heeseung!” Quick reflexes help you catch the strings before they can fall off, staring at him in disbelief. “What the fuck.”
Sunghoon shrugs, moving back to the connected kitchen to lean on the counter again. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, right bro?”
Tension fills the room at lightning speed, gulping the anxiety burning its way up from your chest. 
Heeseung’s nostrils flare, teeth gritting, glowering at the younger as if he could rip his head off. “You’ve seen it all, been inside her, had your way, and she still picked me. Again.”
Again?”
Sunghoon shrugs, cheek dimpling with a small smirk. “Maybe if I played up a weak little groveling bitch act she’d pick me too bro.”
“You fucking—“
“Heeseung!” Wrapping around his waist you sober up quickly, at least enough to regain your strength. The nice drunken bliss you’d felt just minutes ago fading away the longer you stay stuck here between them. “I wanna fuck, right now.”
That seems to do the trick, softening his expression as he looks at you and breaks free from his sudden rage. “Yeah..” checking you out, he slowly blinks remembering that's why you came back up here. You should be back on his lap, sucking on his lips.
“C’mere..” you grin deviously, tugging him to walk back to his room with you. “You can’t leave me like this.”
He stops at the door before you can pull him in, shoving it fully open. “Hey little bro,” he smiles, holding the bottle up to cheers him. “Pay attention, maybe you’ll learn how to satisfy a lady for once. You greedy fuck.”
“Babe, c’mon..” choosing to ignore the way they glare at each other, you reach Heeseung’s bedroom, grabbing the doorknob.
“Leave that open.” He says sternly, kicking the door fully open with his hip.
“What? No, come on.” You argue, try to get him in and shut the door behind him at the same time. He stands tall, lifting the bottle back to his lips, pushing your hand away with his side. 
“I said,” he repeats, making you walk backward toward his bed. “I want it open.”
“But..”
“But what?” There’s enough of a hint of malice in his tone to cut off what you want to say. Chewing on your lip and nervously balancing your weight from side to side. “Come here baby.”
Dragging you to his bed, he sinks down onto the mattress, placing a kiss on the skin around your navel. “S’crazy cause I’m always a little anxious when we fuck..”
“You are?” Genuine confusion passes across your face, could have really fooled you..
“Yeah s’cause I want you so fucking much.” He blinks lazily, licking at your exposed stomach, kissing and nipping between. “I dunno, like what if you’re not into it..”
Since you have fucked his brother, a fact he only wishes he could forget.
“Not into it?” Making him look up at you, you tickle his ear’s between your fingers. 
“I don’t know..” he slurs, hugging your hips and looking out the door. A shadow that can only be his brother’s passing by. “Who’s the best?”
Heeseung’s hold around you tightens up, stroking up and down the backs of your thighs. “Best you’ve had, it’s me, right?”
Continuing to play with his ears, you nod and begin to move down to sit on his lap. Arms looping around his shoulders. “No one’s ever made me cum as hard as you do..”
Ouch. 
Sunghoon better have heard that.
You’d never know how calculated his thoughts are, as if he’s unlocked his alter ego with liquid confidence. Untying the strings on your bikini top, he smirks. “Want you on your knees.”
Holding your bikini against your chest, you nod and crawl down onto the floor in front of him. Shyly glancing up to meet his curious gaze inspecting you. “Show me your pretty tits.” 
Bending in closer he reaches down to cradle your breasts when you finally drop your top, thumbs running across your nipples appraisingly. “Wanna fuck them.” He says, flicking your nipples until they pebble rock hard. The air conditioning unit blowing cold air throughout the room not helping. He twists each of them between his thumb and pointer fingers, humming, testing the weight of them against his palms.
“But really..” squeezing your breast, his other hand drags up your throat, fingers tracing up your chin. “Can’t stop staring at your pretty ass lips.” His thumb pushes on your bottom lip, shoving between. “How good you’d look with my cock down your throat.”
Muscles tense up your thighs, trying to subtly rub them together as heat swelters between and soaks through your bikini bottoms. “Bet you look so cute sucking dick.”
Sunghoon would know.
Pressing your tongue to his thumb, all you can manage to do is nod. The wetness slicking up your bottoms becomes uncomfortable the more he prolongs this and makes you wait. Heeseung thrusts his thumb in and out a few times, smile slowly growing. “Want to?”
“Uh huh..” you couldn’t sound like any bigger of a desperate cock whore right now. Saliva pooling around your tongue in wads as he sits back and pulls his cock free. Fully hard, he wraps around the base and slaps it against his jeans a few times, sliding the pre-cum down his shaft.
The veins along his cock visibly throb, the head flushed an angry red, twitching where he teases and plays with the tip. “Open that mouth up for me baby.”
Nerves ignite the more you drool at the sight before you, reminding yourself that you’ve sucked dick before. One related to Heeseung.. can’t be too different.
Slowly propping your mouth open, your tongue rolls out, hanging over your bottom lip. “So hot.” He hisses, slowly sliding the slit lining the tip against your tongue. He fucks the head in and out of your mouth for a minute, muttering to himself how cute you are. “Think you can fit all of this in there?”
Probing a finger inside your mouth, he pulls on your cheek, popping it open. “Take every inch?” He asks darkly, glaring at your lost expression. “One way to find out.”
Without another word he grabs you by the back of your head, other hand circled around the base of his length. Pulling your head down onto his cock until he hits obstruction and hits the back of your throat. “Fuck baby. You’re a natural.”
The initial shock has you gagging, spit spilling down your chin, shoulders hunching in trying to keep your mouth around him. He doesn’t allow you to move either way, pushing down on the back of your head more until you’re really gagging. Thrusting up against your gag reflex over and over again, really testing out how much you can take.
“Fucking—yeah, that’s so fucking good.” He grunts, pressing your nose against the light trimmed hair surrounding his size. Wet gagging noises fill up the room, Heeseung’s groans and growls drowning them out each time he bottoms out in your mouth. 
He keeps holding you down to an agonizing point, only able to swallow around his cock, spinning his drunken mind over the edge. “Fuck!”
Tugging you off, he slaps the wet shaft on your cheek like a wake up call. Choking and focusing on taking deep breaths when you feel tears flow from your eyes. Peering up light-headed from lack of air. Heeseung smiles, pushing his cock back between your lips. “Make my cock disappear baby.”
He slides back in slowly, excruciatingly slow, really making you swallow down each inch. The smile on his face morphs to a sadistic one when your big watery eyes meet his. He pushes and pushes, standing up with both hands on the back of your head to really fuck your throat. Throwing a leg over your shoulder, he twists your bodies until the back of your neck hits the edge of the bed, using the new position to aim his cock right at your tonsils.
“Such a good fuck hole baby, letting me use you however I want.” 
The pain between your legs reaches a new high, clutching at his jeans and dragging them down. You scream around his length, tears rippling down your face. Heeseung pulls out abruptly, taking a deep breath and laughing. “Almost got me.” Smacking his cock down on your face, he drags the tip along your cheek, mouth, nose, leaving trails of spits and precum all over. “Look at you, so fucking pretty for me.”
Pushing the tip in and out a few more times, he groans, balling a fist in your hair to pull you up. “On the bed.”
Crawling onto all fours, you look over at him, back arching nicely, bikini bottoms still on. He follows you onto the mattress, discarding his shirt and pants before pressing his hips flush to yours. “Where do you want it?”
His hard wet length lodges between your thighs, slowly fucking against your bottoms. Ruching up the material up in his fists, gripping onto your stringy bikini bottom firmly as he builds up a speed. The material wedges up further between your buttcheeks, eyes rolling shut when he lands against your backside extra hard, sending your shoulders to press flat against the bed.
“Come on, speak up.” He grins, smacking your ass. “Tell me where you want to get fucked.”
Anywhere.
At this point, he could do whatever he wants with you. Finding it impossible to fathom up any type of thought as your face presses deeper into the bed. Arousal surges up your spine, another crack ringing out from Heeseung roughly landing another slap across your ass. Dry fucking your bikini bottoms that have completely soaked through, you sink lower against the bed. Lip starting to sting from being bitten raw. The delayed reaction of pain stinging up your backside only registering by the 5th smack.
“Can’t even speak up can you.” A smug smirk stretches his lips, thumb sliding to press your bikini bottom deep between your buttcheeks. “Could fuck you here..”
Squirming away, you shake, legs stretching open more. “N-no..”
He chuckles, untying the strings hanging on for dear life to keep your bottoms up. Balling the material up, he brings it to his nose, stealing a long whiff before throwing them aside. “Smells like your pussy wants me the most..”
“Ah—please.” You swallow, face flushed with heat. “Please put y-your..put it in—my pussy.”
“Put what in?” He says cruelly, dragging his nails down your back to your ass. Cupping and kneading the meaty fleshy. 
“Cock, your c-cock.” You croon, squeezing more tears out. “Please..”
“Want me to fuck your pussy baby?” He teases, swiping three digits between your thighs, collecting a glob of slick to spread around. “So wet.”
Arching deeper as he circles your clit, an embarrassing sound claws its way out of your throat. Eyes clenching shut when he circles your pulsating hole. He drags back to your clit, circling around the nub, back to your hole. Back and forth until you’re a tingling mess, begging for him to fuck you.
“Yesyes!” You breathe raggedly, fisting at the bedding. “H-hurts, please.”
“Pretty little pussy hurts?” His tongue clicks, scissoring two fingers inside. “So tight..” kissing the backs of his teeth, he rolls your clit under his thumb, digits stretching wide inside of you. “After what I just did to your mouth..”
Biting on his lip, he fucks his fingers into you slowly. Curling the tips against your inner walls. Laving at his swollen mouth as he pulls out and smears the wetness across your labia folds. It’s everywhere, all the arousal for him, the desire and hunger your body screams for him.
That’s what he wants to see, slapping the back of your thigh. A needy little please emitting as he cleans off his hand on your ass.
“What was that?” He wants to laugh a little bit meanly, but his cock might damn near burst if he doesn’t get inside of you soon. Too turned on by your lack of shame for him. “Say it again.”
“Please..” you breathe out, letting out a surprised gasp when Heeseung shoves you to fall on your side. Manhandled onto your back, wanting to see your face fall apart when he stuffs you full of his cock. “Please fuck me.”
A door slams shut from behind him, smirking proudly as he hoists your legs open and settles between your thighs. He pauses there, holding himself over you, arms bridged around your body. 
Flicking from his face to his cock, you could scream, breathing in sharply. Chest rising rapidly. “Seungie, please. Please fuck me.”
The sound of your pleading is almost as good as the release to come, savoring it as your begging washes over him. He nods, licking the sweat away from his upper lip, slotting a palm over your hip to hold you in place. 
“Shh shh,” he groans, admiring your hung open jaw. The way you stare up at him with your head thrown back. Grabbing your thigh with his other hand, he presses it down flat to the bed, thrusting the entirety of his cock forward to fill you up in one smooth thrust.
“Yeah,” he mutters cockily, watching every inch disappear inside of you. “That’s what you wanted. Doesn’t that feel good baby?” 
This is what he wanted, to watch you breakdown, lose your mind. The way you are right now, looking at him like he hung the fucking moon, drooling like a wild animal. So brainless, nothing but his.
Heeseung pulls his hips back and snaps them forward aggressively. His patience dissipated the second your warm cunt sucked around his length, instantly milking him. “That’s my good girl.” He picks up the pace even more when you whine in response. Rocking into you hard enough for the headboard to smack against the wall. 
Shivers rattle up and down your spine as he grabs your breasts, hips meticulously snapping forward. The heavy grip on your chest helps him speed up even more until the pace becomes punishing. Pinching roughly at your nipples between harsh breaths. Each thrust hitting his cock so deep, so deep and hard.
“Fuck, take my cock so good.” He moans, hips circling, the tip kissing your cervix. Slapping your tits, he pushes up and reaches for your thighs, pushing them up for the backs of your knees to lay on the crook of his elbows. The vigorous pace he fucks you with snapping enough force to slide your back up the bed, reaching your hands out to push and smack at the headboard. 
“Seungie..” you gasp, neck arching up, completely blissed out. The sound emitting around the room so wet, so nasty and messy. Slick pouring out past his length, trickling down past your ass making a pool of arousal on the bed. “G-gonna cum, Heeseung, I’m gonna—“
The high-pitch tone you moan out his name in makes his stomach bubble, only fucking you into the bed faster when you cry out and ball up your fists. “Yeah? Then fucking cum.”
He doesn’t falter one bit, gaze falling to where your hips connect. Carefully watching the juncture where his cock disappears inside of your cunt. Sucking in a sharp breath, he slaps the sides of your thighs. “Cum.”
“Ahh shit!” You shake through it, gasping for air, clutching at a pillow. Groaning loudly as you tip over the edge and Heeseung continues to fuck you through it, not slowing down at all. Squeezing your eyes shut, you convulse, crying out loudly, cunt clenching tightly around his cock until he has to slow down.
“Fuck.” He grits, using all of his strength to plow through it and grind his cock through the pulsating wet heat of your orgasm. It’s good, so good for both of you. Falling limp and breathless under his weight as he hoists your legs up completely and bends you forward. The mating press stealing the little bit of breath you have left.
“Hee?”
“Did I say we’re fucking done?” He exhales raspily, not allowing you to get away as he locks you into a new position. Fully in control with your legs propped on his shoulders, feet dangling limblessly by his head. 
“H-hurts..” you buzz, body crushed by the white hot sensation of over sensitivity. 
Not letting up, he fucks through the whines emerging from your lips. Pounds away despite your thighs shaking, muscles trembling around him. Keeps slamming in and out to chase his own release. 
“You asked to be fucked.” He says between clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. Erupting tingly warm sensations from your gut to your chest, groaning loudly between your cries. “So you’re getting fucked.”
It’s the overload of dominance and fury that has your next orgasm rushing ahead full force. Borderline uncomfortable as the pleasure rips through you again, hurling you into a hurricane of over sensitivity. The waves of white heat pass through each limb, emptying your lungs free of air. 
Heeseung can only groan through it, balls slapping loudly against your ass. The tips of his fingers digging into your thighs. “Squeezing around me so fucking good when you cum.” He says between short breaths, fucking hard. “Come on, again. You can do better than that.”
That really makes your head explode, wailing and bursting into tears as you snake a hand to your aching clit. It hurts, hurts so fucking good. The way his length relentlessly thrusts inside of you, molding you to only take his cock.
Shuddering through the painful pleasure, you squeeze around your clit. Pinching the bundle of nerves until you jerk, throbbing profusely beneath your fingers. Biting on your bottom lip until a metallic copper spills onto your tongue.
“Fuck.” Heeseung slows down, growling through clenched teeth. Pushing your legs even more until you’re forced to release your clit, feet bouncing by your head. The orgasms more painful than the last, but it’s good enough to slow him down. Squeezing your eyes shut as he buries in deep, breathily groaning. Cock twitching inside you against your convulsing walls.
Pulling out, he lets your legs fall back down, gripping around the base of his cock. “So fucking pretty when you cum like that.” He salivates. Free hand running over your wet stomach, arousal making its way down to the middle of your thighs under each ram of his hips. 
“C-can’t anymore,” you whine, squeezing your thighs shut with your hand hovering over your core. “Sore..”
Heeseung licks at his mouth, patting your hip, sneaking a look at the open door. “Don’t be greedy.” He says it loud enough for Sunghoon to hear, in case he happened to come back out. “You get to cum over and over again thanks to me and I get nothing?”
Given any other day without the help of alcohol, he wouldn’t have been able to last this long. Not after this type of fucking, silently grateful for the liquid courage his brother had to remind him that he needed to act this way..
“That’s so selfish.” He laughs, slapping your hip before manhandling you onto your stomach. “Fine.”
He’ll be nice, content enough by the sound of his brother’s room door slamming shut some time ago. Grabbing your arms he pulls them back, wrapping a hand around both your wrists. “Stay put baby.” 
Twisting your neck to look over your shoulder, you catch the crazed look on Heeseung’s face. Stroking his cock over your ass with hungry eyes, he places it between your buttcheeks, licking at his lips. “Wanna fuck your ass.”
You clench up at that, wrists shifting in his hold, earning a slap on your butt. “Not right now.” He winks at you, dropping a glob of spit along the crevice, moving it around with his length. “Fuck, think you want it though..”
Crossing your ankles, you quietly moan as he begins to thrusts between your ass. The cock head rubbing against your rim incessantly. The sensations still too foreign and new, exciting, digging your toes against the bed when you feel your hole twitch after he spills more spit. The rubbing makes your stomach hot, still weak after multiple orgasms, but desperate to feel him everywhere.
Mouth, between your breasts, filling your pussy, claiming your ass. You’d let him, if he really wanted to..
“You’re so wet back here.” He mumbles, hips throttling against your backside faster and faster. “Could fuck your ass, could slip it right in.”
The clap of skin on skin seers between your thighs, clenching them together to make the squeeze around his cock tighter somehow. “What if I fuck your ass?” Heeseung teases, releasing your wrists to lay his chest against your back. Arm coming around to choke around your throat. 
His thrusts become more erratic, more sloppy. The tip catching on your rim more than once with each pass of his length rutting between your ass. “Bet it’d feel so good. So fucking tight.” He whimpers, pulling your back into an arch with his bicep tucked under your jaw. “Fuck, oh fuck baby.”
It hits you first, letting out a breathless squeal, scratching at the bedding. The heat between your bodies boiling over the edge, tipping you off to reach your peak once again. 
“Shitshitshit.” Heeseung groans, licking up the side of your face, pressing messy kisses to the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, thank you.”
Desperation rolls off his tongue, losing his pace against your backside as powerful tremors roll through his body. Thrusting right against your rim for the tip to push in, he shoves up fast. Palms flat on your shoulder blades, blinking the sweat and tears impairing his sight to focus on his cock pouring out string after string of white creamy cum. The release shakes right through him, trembling against your figure pressed flat to the bed, cum dripping down to pool at your rim making the filthiest picture for him to savor.
“Holy fuck—“ collapsing against you, he struggles to breath. Chest moving rapidly against your back, crushing your lungs at the same time. 
“Hee..” you scramble, too weak to push him off. 
“Sorry so sorry,” he mutters, kissing your shoulder before rolling off to your side. “Give me a minute, I’ll clean up.”
Laying like that next to him, you can’t form a single thought. Watching the shadow of his side profile as he recuperates, breathing coming back down to a normal pace. He sighs, hands dragging through his damp sweaty hair before turning to kiss your cheek and stumble off the bed.
Taking no longer than a minute to wet a towel, he comes back and cleans off your back, gently patting between your thighs. Seemingly sobered up enough to remember to do this. You smile and work with him to get under the blanket, shivering as the warmth embraces you.
“Was I too rough?” He mumbles sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah..” you smirk, burying yourself deeper into the pillow. “Liked it.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, he pecks your forehead, softly stroking your cheek for a minute. “Goodnight.”
“Night baby.” You hum, slowly entering a mythical universe full of dreams.
“Hey hey,” a soft cool touch pats your cheek, stirring you awake. “Drink this, or you’ll be hurting bad tomorrow.”
“Mmphh?” More than already half asleep, you open your mouth against a glass pressed to your lips, neck held up by a firm hold.
“Swallow.”
Between blurred vision and a bit of help you manage to get a few pills down, whining your way back to the pillow you’d been resting on.
“Good.” Sunghoon hums, tucking the blanket in around you. “Get some sleep.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Waking up to the sound of birds chirping would be lovely, the smell of a hot pot of coffee, a warm and cozy bed to cuddle into.
But today had other plans for you.
Squinting your eyes open, you sit up abruptly, covering your mouth at the aggressive sound of throwing up coming from outside of the room. 
“Heeseung?” 
The sound gets worse the longer you sit there and try to gather your thoughts, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stumble free from the hotel bed, legs tangled up in a sheet.
“You might not want to go in there.” Sunghoon greets you with a large smile, sipping on water. “He’s been emptying his guts for an hour now. Surprised it didn’t wake you up sooner.”
“Oh my God, Hee?” Tugging the sheet around your body, you lean against the door, rapping your knuckles along the wood. “Are you okay??”
“No! Don’t come in here!” He says raspily, throat run down. “Please, don’t!”
“Are you sure?? Do you need anything??”
“Go away!” He gags again, the noise rising bile up your throat. 
“I can’t..” covering your mouth you back away, stumbling back into Sunghoon.
“Don’t worry, I gave him some medicine and water.” He lets you know, passing you a fresh cup of tea. “How’re you feeling? You both drank a lot last night..”
“What even happened..” rubbing your head, you sip on the tea. Sitting down on the couch. “I didn’t drink that much.. I guess that’s why I don’t feel awful.”
Sunghoon nods, leaning against a chair. “Heeseung’s never known his limit.” He sighs, shrugging. “Anyway. What are the plans for today?”
The bathroom door bursts open with an unavoidable rancid smell permeating past Heeseung’s long frame slumping against the wall. 
“Sick dude, you need to take a shower..” Sunghoon implores, waving the air away in front of his face. “Just like old times huh? Stumbling out of the bathroom covered in puke.”
“Hee..” you jump to stand, not wanting to get too close when you see the state of him. “How’re you feeling?”
Ignoring his brother, he wipes one of the smaller hotel towels down his face, holding an arm out for you to stay back. “Terrible. Fuck I’m sorry. Sorry if I woke you up..”
“It’s okay,” you hesitate, wrapping your fingers around the sheet held around your body. “Why don’t you take a shower and get cleaned up. We can play it by ear, maybe stay in today.”
Sunghoon scoffs, standing up straight, motioning between the two of you. “We’re not staying out here an entire week. You’re really wasting another day locked up inside this hotel? Is that what you flew across the country for?”
Heeseung frowns, silently agreeing. “I don’t feel up to going anywhere.” He says, more evident as his hand raises to his mouth to hold back another gag. “You should still go.”
Taking a few deep breaths, he quickly shakes his head, rapidly waving before slamming the door shut and returning to kiss the porcelain bowl.
“I should stay..” you lament, eyes drooping lower the more it settles that you really are wasting another day..
“Let Heeseung rest today, he needs it after all that drinking last night.” Sunghoon circles your wrist to lure you away from the shared living room, eyebrow arched up curiously. “You aren’t seriously going to let him steal one of your days to explore the city?”
“I feel bad, it’s my fault he drank so much..”
“You don’t get to visit Italy whenever you please, you know?” Sunghoon frowns, unrelenting with his small backwards steps toward your bedroom. “It’s still early enough for us to check out The Vatican. Remember when you watched that documentary and kept raving on about wanting to visit?”
Of course you remember, the question is why he remembers. “You’ll go with me?” 
Sunghoon scoffs, leaning against the door frame with a soft smile. “I’ll go anywhere with you. Now hurry up and get dressed so we can pass by the shops and get some coffee in our systems before we head out.”
Eyeing the shut bathroom door, you ponder for a minute, shifting from foot to foot. “Give me a bit to freshen up, I’ll meet you down there.”
He pouts, reluctant to let you close the door to your room as he bats thick eyelashes at you in a playful manner. “I can just wait for you here.. nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Get out!” 
Sunghoon chuckles, mumbling on his way out to not pack your bag much since he has ‘daddy’s credit card’ to cover any expenses.
“Yeah yeah..” even while getting ready you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about Heeseung, setting out water bottles and medicine for him on the kitchen counter. 
“Going to explore the city,” you call through the door, knocking lightly. “Call me if you need anything from outside. I’ll try to be back in time for dinner.”
“Don’t worry.” Heeseung replies, sounding exhausted. “Please—please go have fun.”
“Won’t be as fun without you.” You whisper, shouting your goodbyes through the walls before heading down to meet up with Sunghoon.
The thing about your step-brother is that he really has no clue how to dress down, which really lessens the options hung up in your hotel closet. Perhaps a sundress today, something that would pop against your skin and hug your shape better. Not to impress him or anything, but to at least better your chances of not appearing like a slob next to some model dressed to the 9’s.
Sandals, a sundress, a sweater for the evening when it cools down, and a lightweight satchel. Easy, not trying too hard at all. Even if you take a little extra time to style your hair and ensure your makeup can hold up through the European summer heat.
“Ah, of course.” You mutter to yourself upon finding him standing outside of the coffee shop. Black slacks hang from his hips like a dream, buttoned down shirt tucked in accentuating his slim near non-existent waist, and hair quaffed back without a hair out of place other than the piece dangling down over his forehead. He’s a perfect vision, the usual, nothing to gasp over anymore as you’ve grown accustomed to his utter perfection.
“Well, don’t you look stunning.” He smiles, pointing his arm out in a triangular shape for yours to slip between. “Shall we?”
“No funny business.” You warn before hooking your arm through his. 
“I would never.” He grins, directing you by his side to get in line. “Americano?”
“Yeah, that’s simple enough.”
“I’ve hailed an Uber to pick us up, says we’ll be arriving in about 25 minutes.”
“Sounds good.” 
You realize any nerves Sunghoon used to elicit have subsided as you sit in the cramped backseat of an Italian made vehicle. Even with your limbs pressed together and the occasional adjustments he makes until his arm is looped over your shoulder as he casually speaks and points out the different architecture through the car window along the way, you can’t help to think this is comfortable.
And comfort isn’t always a good thing. Especially as you shift for a better view and his chest presses to your back, face closer to yours the more he explains the difference in environment and building structures. 
“Why do you know so much about this stuff?” 
“You think I’d be graduating with honors if I hadn’t also studied European history?” He says cockily, stroking down your arm. “I’m excited to see The Vatican too, it’s been a dream of mine for a few years now.”
Google translate has become your most reliable tool this past week, reaching for your phone as the ride comes to an end only to be stopped by Sunghoon bellowing out what can only be described as broken Italian; the driver responds with a sharp tongue, waving for both of you to exit his vehicle quickly.
“You speak Italian?”
Sunghoon laughs, rounding about to grab the door for you before you manage to get it yourself. “I practiced a bit after we booked this trip.”
“This trip you forced your way into?” You say snarkily, nudging his side as you begin the mile long walk to enter Vatican city. 
“I told you, I’ve always wanted to visit Europe too.” Sunghoon nods to one of the many street vendors lining the pathway. “Hope these are still open by the time we leave, I always like to purchase souvenirs made by the locals.”
The variety of carts sell different items from foods, art, handmade bags, religious memorabilia, and jewelry that beams beneath the bright sun.
“Oh my God, this is beautiful.” You trail off, drawn away from whatever Sunghoon’s continued to go on about. “I’ve always wanted one like this.”
Black pearls slide through your digits, the necklace on display attached with a fat price tag that has you releasing the piece as fast as you picked it up. “That’s pretty.” 
Sunghoon comes up behind you to pick up the necklace, nodding to the cart vendor. “I’ll take this one.”
His wallets out before you can argue, even so your palm lays on his wrist as you shake your head. “Hoon, I was just looking.”
“Nonsense, it’ll look great on you.” He nods, counting out a wad of Euros to cover the fee. “And it will add to the nice memories of your trip.”
Sunghoon takes the packed up necklace and motions to your neck. “You should wear it right now, you know, it will look great in the pictures we get today.”
“Okay..”
Swiping your hair to the side you take a deep breath, shivering as the pearls meet your skin and his long fingers slowly glide up past your collarbone to connect to the clasp. He leans in close to whisper, shutting the necklace to hold together. “There, you see? Beautiful.”
And it is, very very beautiful, you think as you admire the black opal against your skin in a small scratched mirror hanging from the side of the vendor's cart. “Thank you..”
Sunghoon fails to respond, having turned around as a group of girls giggled and passed by with mischievous smirks, waving coyly at him, a few even winking. He waves back nervously, laughing under his breath and reaching for his nape to rub at. 
“So handsome.”
They say, continuing to gawk and gaze back over their shoulders on their way down the path. “I said thanks.” You speak up, mildly annoyed.
“Huh? Oh yeah yeah.” Sunghoon turns back to wave at the girls again, adding a small salute and shy laugh. “It’s no problem.”
“Right.” You say, growing more annoyed. “Let’s keep going before this crowd gets worse.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
It seems to become all the more obvious just how many women(and men) double take as your step-brother walks by. Growing eyes and pleased smiles take over the strangers faces upon taking in his modelesque physique and striking features, not to mention the Italian nonnas oohing and ahhing over him before breaking into a chatter of compliments.
Quite the crowd pleaser. You can’t help but to roll your eyes, finding yourself moving closer and closer to his side until you cave at the sight of a gorgeous girl lighting up and biting down on her lip as she checks him out.
“Hoon.” Putting on your sweetest smile, you squeeze around his bicep and press fully to his side. “Thank you again, for making me do this.”
Sunghoon leans in to bump his forehead to yours. “I told you, anywhere you wanna go, I’ll be there.”
And you’d believe it if not for his wandering gaze, running up and down the sets of Italian model legs trotting around you. “Seriously, thank you for suggesting this.”
“Hey!” Pinching his chin, you force his eyes back to yours. “We’re here to appreciate architecture, rare relics! Art God damnit!”
He laughs, taking a hold of your wrist, smoothly gliding his fingers between yours. “Yes, we are, aren’t we.”
The Vatican’s gorgeous, something photos alone could never truly capture. Your jaw’s on the floor from the moment you step inside, twirling around slowly to admire the art above you. 
Click. Flash. Click.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” You stop, hands on your hips, tongue poking against the inside of your cheek.
“Am I not here to be your photographer?” Sunghoon quickly takes another, catching you off guard with the flash on his phone.
“Hey!” He gets more shots of you walking toward him with your arm extended to cover his phone lense, smiling from behind the screen. “Get pictures of the art! Not me!”
He hums, motioning for you to continue walking. “Thought you’d want to document this moment is all.”
“Of course I do.” Getting your own photos and videos, you think about showing Heeseung what he missed out on later. Unfortunate that he ended up drinking so much.. but that’s not what you need to be thinking about right now. “I’m not photogenic.”
“Who says you’re not?” Sunghoon frowns, pointing out a large staircase ahead. “Go stand over there for a minute.”
“Hoon..”
“Come on, I’ll prove to you that you photograph just fine.”
“Let’s not waste too much time with pictures alright?” Begrudgingly you stand near the stair railing, off to the side enough for other tourists to still pass by. Sunghoon goes on about how it’s not you, but likely a bad photographer, which shouldn’t be an issue since he’s oh so great.
He even gets on his knees, determined to prove his point, not caring about dirt and dust trekked through ending up on his slacks. “Try placing your hands there, yeah, and tilt your chin in, that’s it, beautiful.”
“Alright alright that’s enough.” Embarrassment has you covering your face, hiding from strangers slowing down to judge you.
“Look.” Showing off the pile of photos he took, he zooms in on one of the last ones before you covered your face, hand just above your chest with a shy smile beginning to creep up. “Really like this one.”
“I look like an idiot.”
“You look gorgeous.”
He’s still smiling unblinkingly at the photo when you look at him, raging a storm of warmth beneath your cheeks. “Let’s go up these stairs.” You end up rushing past the groups of foreigners around you, eager to gain a little distance from your step-brother. 
“Hey, slow down.” He laughs, grabbing onto your elbow. “The paintings aren’t going anywhere.”
“Pft I know that,” slipping free from his hold, you nod ahead toward a statue. “Madonna della Pietá.”
Sunghoon clears his throat, standing too close by your side. “When Jesus was taken down from the cross and placed in his mother’s arms..”
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re some genius art historian at this point.” Rolling your eyes, you continue to read the description of Michaelangelo’s statue depicting Mary and Jesus. 
“Well,” he pauses for a minute to take short breaths, hands tightly clasped behind his back. “There’s always been something about this piece.”
For once his attention isn’t on you, gawking at the statue with gloss coated eyes. “Some believe that Michaelangelo wanted to create a work describing the heart’s image. When I first read about Pietá I wondered if a mother’s undying love is what fuels a heart. What would we be without a mother after all.”
“Sunghoon..”
He blinks furiously, turning away from the statue. “I had to write a paper about it.” Clearing his throat, he proceeds on without waiting for you. Leaving you uncomfortably staring at the preserved piece of art. 
A mother’s undying love.. something Sunghoon was never given.
You could ask what the paper was about, analyzing religion? The hanging on the cross? Motherhood? Or you could just drop it. Ignore that sour feeling building up inside of your stomach. Remember who Sunghoon is even if you feel an inkling of remorse for him.
“It’s no wonder you’re such a good tutor.” You jab his side, attempting to shift the atmosphere back to a playful one. “Brainiac.”
He grins a little, phone lifting to mask his face and get another photo of you. “Ugh come on, here.” Grabbing the device from his hands, you start to get pictures of him. “Enough of me! You’re here too.”
“We need some together.” He says not even trying to pose, grabbing your hand to hold the phone higher and get both of your faces in the shot. “You know, to prove to our parents that we actually came here. Come on, smile!”
His cheeks dimple in, distracting you as you look at the screen on selfie mode reflecting back your faces. “You’re too tall.. cutting off my head.”
“Fine fine.” He crouches, cheek brushing against yours. Getting a few shots in of the both of you smiling before making a fast turn with his pursed lips landing on your cheek.
“Sunghoon!” 
Even with you landing slaps down on his arm he still managed to get a couple of photos, cheerfully walking away through the rest of the church. “Do not show those to my mom.”
“She’d probably love these.” He steals a look at the pictures, biting back a smile. “Look at us bonding now.”
“Right.. yeah, bonding.” You murmur, continuing to walk and check out the rest of the church. 
“This has been nice.” Sunghoon nods, rubbing this stomach. “I’m a little hungry though.”
“Ah, I don’t really want to eat..” slowing down, you check your phone to check in on Heeseung. No messages, he must have knocked out after the way his body rudely awoke him. “Trying to save room for dinner.”
“Oh come on, I saw a crepe stand out there.” Sunghoon points to the other side of the street full of food vendors. “We haven’t even gone that way yet. You know, the desserts in Europe are nothing like the shit we get in America.”
“How would you know?” You pretend to frown, mostly pouting, sticking close to his side. The sense of feeling that you’re being closely watched returns, catching different sets of eyes darting from you to your step-brother. Can’t take him anywhere..
“Dad brought me out to London once for a business trip when I was really into Harry Potter.” He recalls, ordering a chocolate crepe to share since you insist on watching your figure. 
“Bet you really related to Malfoy.”
“Whattt?” Sunghoon laughs, holding the crepe to cut a piece off for you. “I’m no Slytherin.”
“Oh, please!” You snort, moving your neck back when he raises the fork to your lips. “You’re sooo Slytherin!”
“Am not.” He says, tongue click, continuing to shut and open his mouth for you to take a bite. “Come on, we only have one fork.”
“I can feed myself.”
“You don’t need to, that’s what I’m here for.” He tuts, placing the fork by your lips again. “Now open up, say ahhh.”
Against your nature, you meet his gaze, slowly propping open your mouth for him to slide a piece of crepe onto your tongue. “Oh that’s..”
“Told ya..” Sunghoon forks a bite for himself, letting out a pleased hum. “Delicious.”
“Alright, I guess that’s actually amazing.” You admit, bumping into his side for another bite. “But you’re still a Slytherin.”
“You have me all wrong.” Feeding you another piece, he brings the empty fork to his mouth, biting on the plastic to hold it in place. “You got a little..”
He swipes at your bottom lip, cleaning off a smear of chocolate, breath lodged in his throat when you blink up at him. Pushing down on the juicy center of your lip, he sinks in for your tongue to meet the tip of his finger. Biting on his own lip as you unintentionally lick the bit of chocolate clean off his skin without breaking eye contact. 
“Think I’ve had enough.” You cough, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Chest fluttering, forcing yourself to look away. “So uhm, what house do you think you’d land in then?”
“Pfft,” finishing off the crepe, he wipes his hands clean and throws away the trash. “I’m obviously Gryffindor.”
“Ah, I can see that.” You giggle, rolling your eyes. “Cocky, big headed, full of yourself, egotistical.”
“More like Courageous, daring, willing to do anything to get what I want.” He declares proudly, standing up straight with his chest puffed out. “And I do mean anything.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” Checking your phone again, you sigh, eager to wrap this excursion up.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Your house?” Sunghoon asks curiously, evidently forming his own opinion already.
“Slytherin, duh.” You tsks, playfully punching his shoulder.
“Ah yes, Hufflepuff personality, Slytherin mindset.” He jokes, throwing an arm around your waist. “Happens all the time, I can see why you’re confused.”
“Believe me,” sliding from his hold, you begin to walk away from the food vendors. “I’m Slytherin.”
Raising an eyebrow, he follows after you, more intrigued to delve into what you mean by that. You’re not as innocent as you like to act, dumber than you try to display if anything..
“We should start heading back.” You suggest, directing him toward the nearest street corner. “I told Hee we’d be back for dinner.”
“Ughh.. why do you even care if he eats dinner? He’s such an asshole for doing this shit on your vacation.” Sunghoon says petulantly. Rolling his eyes as you drag him out to the path to hail a cab, not wanting to walk the long trek through the street shops again.
“The issues you have with each other are seriously starting to give me a headache..” you sigh, shoving him to get inside the backseat of a taxi that pulls up. Quickly showing the driver the hotel address on your phone, you lean back, leaving ample space between you and your step-brother. “I told you, it’s my fault. I made him drink that first night..”
“He’s an adult.” Sunghoon sneers, pushing his legs open wide until your knees touch. “Last I checked he should be fully capable of making responsible decisions for himself. What were those two years of therapy for anyway, as if he’s the one that was left abandoned.”
As much as you’d love to get into it with him, be extra nosey, not even your curiosity can stop you from yawning. The summer heat and tension between the brothers, tension between you and Sunghoon, all of it really has been wearing you down. Sinking further into the seat with your head resting on the window, you finally relax enough. It’s not as if you’d really gotten a good night's sleep, still sore between your thighs after the evening’s activities..
“I’m not a therapist.” You mutter, yawning. “Wake me up when we get there.”
There’s a quiet grunt that travels from your side, a few choice words mumbled under his breath. Listening to Heeseung’s complaints and worries is one thing, but there’s zero reason to grant Sunghoon any of that courtesy.
He wants to pick a fight with you, mention that you’re only not suffering today with your head in a toilet thanks to him. Because maybe he conveniently packed hangover medication for you, just in case. Maybe he threw it in his bags with hopes of this happening. Maybe you and Heeseung both walked right into his trap, easier than tempting a fat kid with candy. It’s almost unbelievable how well this all worked out in his favor, if only he can figure out how to make it happen again..
“Wake up princess.” He announces, shaking your shoulder. “We’re here.”
That car nap was not nearly long enough to recover from this day. Brushing it off you head up to your room with Sunghoon, quietly entering to find Heeseung sat on the couch drinking water, nervously jumping up when you approach. 
“My baby.” You smile, wrapping him in a tight hug. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah.” He beams, skin shining after hours of trying to recover. A nice clean scent of soap wafting off his skin and hair. “You have a good time?”
“Super fun.” You chirp, running fingers through his hair. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too.” Going in for a kiss, he frowns when you dodge him, large eyes slumping at the corners. 
“Sorry, I feel stinky..” you admit, grimacing and pulling away. “Shower first and then we can go find some food?”
He smiles, rubbing your arms up and down. “Fine fine, I’ll get dressed.”
“You look cute already.”
“I could say the same about you.” You add, winking and passing him to your bedroom.
And I could start throwing up myself, Sunghoon thinks, sporting a face of disgust. Pretending to look at his phone, he blocks your way. “The pictures,” he says, motioning to the screen open on the photos he took today. “Want me to airdrop them?”
“Oh yeah, for sure.” Handing him your phone, you unlock it, continuing to your room. “Just toss it on my bed when you’re done.”
“Sounds good.” He nods, not missing the way his older brother’s glaring at him. He waits for the sound of the shower to play, raising his eyebrows at the older. “You really missed out today.”
“Yeah?” Heeseung questions, sitting down on the couch and unlocking his phone. “What exactly did I miss?”
“You know we’re here to see Italy, right?” Sunghoon laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Sitting down on an ottoman by the couch, he drags a thumb across his phone screen, selecting each photo to send.
“I’m here for her.” Heeseung bristles, choosing to forget how he paced around pulling at his hair after sobering up. The thought of you alone with his younger brother for so many hours drove him more insane than he’d like to admit. Possibly even to the point of opening and closing the hotel's bar menu, picking up and hanging up the phone multiple times to stop himself from making an order. He couldn’t stop imagining the two of you together, touching, bumping into each other, holding hands, laughing together.
It made him feel more nauseous, too sick to even think about food. Not until you walked through the door and immediately went up to him was he able to calm down, ease his worries and relax enough to take a deep breath.
He’s being stupid. Insecure, silly, worrying about nothing..
“Oh my bad,” Sunghoon chuckles, getting up to leave your phone in your room. “Think I airdropped you the pictures too, just ignore that.” He shouts out before walking to his bedroom. “I’m gonna take a nap, today winded me. Probably order room service, so don’t worry about me.”
“No one’s worrying about you.” Heeseung replies under his breath, thumb hovering over a photo of you smiling. The options to accept or decline 47 photos wait for his response, chewing on his bottom lip as he accepts and they load onto his phone.
You look so cute, so pretty, smiling shyly and posing in your sundress. He smiles scrolling through the photos, cursing at himself for not being the one to take them for you. Probably impressed you how well Sunghoon was able to capture these beautiful pictures of you..
The ugly thoughts invade his head once again, face falling more and more as he scrolls through photos of you admiring the Vatican one after the next. The way you seem unaware, so enthralled by your surroundings, in awe.. Sunghoon must’ve taken these when you weren’t paying attention, too caught up in the art and architecture. These gorgeous photos you’ll look back on years down the line, precious memories, ones that Heeseung did not make with you.
He fucked up. He really fucked up.. 
Feeling down on himself again, he’s ready to lock his phone shut. Scratching his thigh roughly, pretending to not feel the itch shooting through his limbs. He swipes to the next one, breath catching in his throat when he sees a selfie shot of you and Sunghoon. It’s only the top half of your face, his brother’s handsome features taking up most of the screen.
You took pictures together?
He has to see the next, swallowing the dryness tightening his throat when he sees you both smiling, cheeks only an inch or two apart. The space between you is barely there, such a pretty smile stretching your cheeks wide. 
You look good, and what’s worse is you look good together. He knew it, he knew you’d make a good looking couple. Both of you are attractive in your own right, complimentary, suitable for each other. 
You haven’t taken photos together yet, maybe you should. He stares longer, wondering if you’d look better by his side, wondering why you’d ever choose him over Sunghoon..
It’s the next photo that has his spine stiffening ramrod straight, coughing on his spit from trying to moisten his throat. He feels more sick than ever now. The smile on your face stings through his chest, the glimmer in his brother’s eyes. 
His lips pressed to your cheek..
It hurts to see. Not because he feels betrayed, not because he has any right to tell you he’s uncomfortable with this, but because you look like such a happy fucking couple. 
It’s worse than seeing you side by side in a documented memory. It’s beautiful actually, some shit you’d see on Pinterest under ‘couple goals’ and it makes him want to lurch, covering his mouth and shoving his phone away. He sits for a minute, festering with anger, frustrated beyond belief that this is seriously happening. That this is happening even as adults.
That this is happening with a girl he really fucking likes and doesn’t want to lose.
“Hee?” 
Too caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the shower turn off, doesn’t hear your bedroom door open. Doesn’t notice you standing there in a towel, skin soft and glistening wet. His hand slowly drops from his mouth when he looks at you and can’t even force a smile, standing up fast to get to you; fists balled up at his sides. 
“Are you not feeling well?” You ask, wrinkling between your forehead full of concern. Sick, so fucking sick how much that pulls at his heart strings. How much it hurts to think about you with him, with anyone other than himself.
“No.” He says flatly, expressionless. “I’m not feeling well.”
With big confused eyes and a sad pout, you reach for his forehead, pressing the back of your hand down. “You’re a little warm..”
Grabbing your forearm, he removes your touch, taking slow steps back. “Think I’ll skip dinner tonight.”
“What? But—“
“Not hungry anymore.” He nods, turning to snatch the bar menu from the kitchen counter. “But I am thirsty.”
“I can go grab us some more water bottles if you want?”
He ignores you, picking up the hotel phone and placing an order for 3 different bottles of alcohol. “Charge it all to the room.” He says before hanging up. “And make it fast.”
“Heeseung, what're you doing?” 
If looks could kill, the disappointment written all over your face could rip his heart out and trample him to death. He shrugs, looking away, tongue poking out from the inside of his cheek. “What? You didn’t seem to mind yesterday. Remember how cute I am drunk?”
“You’re cute when you’re not drunk too..” you whisper, clutching the towel closer to your body, seeming confused. “Did Sunghoon say something?”
There you go mentioning him.
“Something?” He raises a curious eyebrow. “And what exactly do you think he’d have to say to me? Did something happen between the two of you?”
“W-what??” You panic, head shaking. “No!”
“Then why are you asking?” He squints, stepping forward to corner you. “You got all pretty to go out with him, spent all day alone together, really expect me to believe nothing happened??”
“Heeseung I—“
The doorbell rings, immediately stealing his attention to storm over and rip the door open, smiling and rolling in a cart with bottles dunked inside of ice. “Wonderful.” He turns to you, popping open a clear bottle of what you assume to be hard liquor. “Now this is a vacation.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why am I doing what?” He scoffs, not bothering to fill a cup. Taking a shot straight from the bottle. “We had fun yesterday didn’t we? Maybe that’s what we are, I’m your crazy party boy.” Rolling his eyes, he takes another swig. “I fuck you how you like and take you to concerts, let you treat me like your bitch boy.”
The clear look of anger targeted at him has him looking away, chugging down more as fast as he can. Not wanting to be level headed or clear minded for this anymore. “He’s the one you can prance around on these fancy vacations, show off to the world.” 
“What did he say to you?!” You fume, grabbing his hand holding the bottle. “Come on, talk to me!”
“Nothing.” He glowers, snatching his arm away, another swig down. It’s enough now to have his stomach bubbling, warm, full of acidic burning tingles. “I should have just fucking gone with you. It’s my fault.”
“You didn’t feel good..” you lament, teeth grinding as he takes another drink. “And you’re going to feel like shit again if you keep drinking like this.”
“Is it so bad that I want to have fun with you now too?” Playing with the etched words on the bottle, he grins, head shaking. “You wanna spend more time with him or what?”
“Why do you keep bringing Sunghoon up? I don’t care about him.” Running a hand through your half-dried hair, you pull at clumps, feeling tense. Aggravation rising each time his lips wrap around the bottle of clear liquid in his grip, finally realizing what door you’ve opened.
No one likes me when I drink. That’s what Heeseung had said, and now it clicks. You get it now. He’s not casually drinking for fun, he’s doing it to mask some type of hurt you haven’t begun to understand, because you should have listened better. Too focused on yourself and your own needs, too dumb and immature to handle whatever it is he could be going through.
Whatever it is Sunghoon could also be dealing with. Once again caught in the middle of their trauma and pain, you see no other way to deal with this other than doing the only thing you know how to do best.
Heeseung taps off the bottle, already reaching for the other, in disbelief when he looks at you through half-lidded glossy eyes and raises it to his lips. “Because, you like him, don’t you.”
He’s not asking, flat out informing you like some news broadcaster. “You like him, and you can’t deny it.” He huffs, smiling, dragging his tongue along the opening. “I see the way he looks at you, but I should’ve paid more attention to the way you look back..”
“You’re being irrational.” Holding onto the towel loosely, you step up to him, lifting the bottle in his hold to your lips. “Let’s have fun.”
“Yeah?” That seems to please him, cheek wrinkling to one side. “What type of fun are you thinking?”
One sip incinerates your throat, hiding a grimace as you glance down and fidget with the cotton fabric clutched in your grip, slowly letting go. “I’m all wet.”
Heeseung groans, taking a sip as his eyes follow inches of your skin being revealed. “You look fucking good.” His tongue drags heavily between words, leaving a thick layer of spit across his bottom lip as he leans in and breaths out pure alcohol across your face. “All that for me?”
“Yeah,” you nod sheepishly, eyeing the bottle, slowly stealing it free from his hold. “Now fuck me.”
Stumbling back surprised, he raises the bottle to his lips, taking a swig with a reaction this time. The liquor much darker, mixing treacherously with the clear vodka he’d already downed. “Get your pretty ass over here.” 
Stepping back toward the couch, he sets the bottle down on the floor, reaching to unzip his pants. You stagger for a minute, tempted to make sure Sunghoon’s door is shut. Not that it should matter after yesterday, or after everything you’ve done.
Walking naked over to where Heeseung leans back on the couch, you can’t ignore how annoyed—almost angry you feel. Reaching for his jaw to make him look at you, you grit. “I said fuck me.”
“Yeah, I a-am.” Already slurring, he pats his thigh. The room beginning to spin now that he’s sat down, blinking rapidly. “S-sit on my face baby.”
His tongue drags out, lolling lazily across his lips. As drunk as he already seems, you can’t deny he looks good. Extra sultry and heated, reaching for your hips where you stand between his spread open thighs. He pulls you in, face crashing between your hips taking in a deep inhale. “S-smell so good, sweet fucking pussy.”
It shouldn’t be this tempting, shouldn’t feel this good to let him pull you forward until you get on top of him, knees sinking into the couch by his hips. “You’re gonna make me fall..” you giggle, playing with his hair, still slightly damp from washing it hours ago. “Should be criminal how cute you are like this..”
Helpless and dumb, extra pouty, dopey, smiling hard enough for his large bambi eyes to disappear. “T-think ya just like me.” He professes, eyebrows raising. 
“I do.” Gripping his shoulders, you lift up, forgetting that Sunghoon’s only a wall away fast asleep. “I like you a lot Hee..”
“Like you more,” he hiccups, neck leaning back on the couch, blearily blinking up at you. Wrapping your hands around his throat, you slowly lower down until your middle brushes along his chin. Keeping yourself steady with a light hold on his neck. He gurgles a little, breathing heavily, mouth opening wide. 
“Sit down.” A crack claps off your backside, shocking you to fall forward and land on his open mouth. His hands grip your ass after delivering a rough slap, urging you to really sit on his face.
More smacks barrel down, manipulating your hips to rut forward, no choice but to bounce away from the strikes he continues to land. “Ugh, Hee..”
It’s impossible to not roll your hips down faster, fucking your clit against his nose furiously. The rubbing motion setting off each nerve with his tongue filling you up. Huffing weak breaths against your cunt the more he struggles to breathe with your hands squeezing around his throat, persistently bouncing down on his face with his large palm squeezing your ass. 
“Fuck fuck, yes!” Unable to control yourself, you really get into it. Losing your mind when he wiggles the width against your inner walls. Obscene wet sounds clapping out, his struggled gasps for air, the wet draining from your hole. 
So nasty, so fucking nasty. Despite being unhappy with the involvement of alcohol, you can’t deny how much better the sex is. How much raunchier Heeseung gets, rougher, really treating you like a bitch in heat. 
In a lot of ways, you needed this from him. Needed this viscous type of lust, to lose yourself in him. Palpable tension has taken more than a toll on you, the guilt and confusion, attraction and rage. This is the only way to forget the quicksand that’s filled up every corner of your life, sinking deeper and deeper.
His tongue delves through the mess of slick pushing out of your cunt. The muscle works extra hard to push against each hard clench that traps him in place, sucking and slurping loudly. 
Without being able to get his fingers to reach your hole from this position, he teases the dip of your ass. Tracing the line, prodding between to faintly brush down your rim. Fuck, if only you’d move up just a bit so that he could lick you from your asshole to your cunt. Wanting to have a taste of everything right now. He sucks around your pussy, kissing and licking up the pathway to your clit. Trapping the swollen bud between his teeth, he tugs it between his lips and sucks ferociously. Making your thighs crush around his head, groaning when you release his neck. 
“I’m—g-gonna cum!” You whimper, stomach curling with tight heat. Jerking against his face, having to grab onto the couch to keep yourself held up as you tremble and grind down. Hitting your peak this way has you whining desperately, pussy clamping around his tongue pathetically.
Loud pleasure rocks through the room, without a doubt waking anyone up within close proximity. Even the neighbors in close by suites could probably hear your pleasured screams. 
It’s not the first time you’ve squirted, but through blurred vision Heeseung thinks he might cum from this alone. Blinking slowly and heavy as he licks his lips clean and tries to catch the fluid gushing from your hole, entranced by your inner thighs trembling above his face. The cries you let out barely reach his ears through fog and cotton that's stuffed his brain, sighing and slumping back flat without an ounce of energy left. No doubt he’ll feel it in his jaw tomorrow.
“Holy shit..” you weakly slink down to his lap, helping yourself down with your hands on his shoulders.
Insatiable attraction and sexual connection could break through the rough right now, really solidifying that this is what you want. The drinking isn’t that bad, not when everything else between you never fails to blow your mind. Still shaking after a minute of catching your breath.
“Fuck you’re seriously soo—“ he trails off, head falling back panting for air. Lips shiny with arousal, pouring down his throat. Light reflects off his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, swallowing as his eyes roll back. “I’m so f-fucked.”
“Huh?” Too eager to get his dick out, you slide down his thighs. Drawing his hardened length out to stroke, spreading the precum around. “So horny right now baby, need you to fuck me.”
Heeseung hisses when you start to jerk him off, not lifting his head as the room spins above him. It’s all too much, having to clench his eyes shut. The timing too perfect with you lining him up to your entrance, slowly lowering down to take an inch. “Ughh,” you moan brokenly, strung out and high from riding his face. “So good, that’s so good.”
He’d agree with you if the floor would stop moving, if his neck felt like it could lift on it’s own, if the light wasn’t starting to go black behind his eyes. 
He’s been here before, drunk off his ass, half-near passed out with his cock deep inside of a warm hole. Memories race through his head, falling back onto a cloud as they shoot past him and draw him further into a drunken dreamland. At least the couch is soft, unlike the many floors and walls he’s crashed against in the past, even waking up on sidewalks and lawns after an all night rager.
“S-so full.” You whimper, grinding down, palms sliding up his chest. “Baby.”
His chest steadily rises and falls, mouth hung open blowing out calm breaths, eyes rolled back shut. Slowing down, you lean in, taking in how calm and easy his features are, as if he’s—
“Hee??” You cry, landing your palms on his chest firmly. Not hard enough to slap, but at least to jolt him. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
No way he seriously just passed out. No fucking way.
This can’t be happening. Yeah he drank a lot, but passing out right as you start to fuck?!
After failing to get his eyes open, you let out the longest disappointed sigh. Low key actually wishing for round two of yesterday to forget any of the feelings budding up for his brother. Convinced that another brutal round of fucking could do the job..
“Fuck my life.” Grumbling to yourself, you gather your towel from the floor. Staring at him with the saddest look on your face.
How the fuck did this happen.
How the fuck have you seriously ended up here? Your own boyfriend—whatever he is, getting whiskey dick while inside of you?!
You should help him back to bed. Try to wake him up, or at least leave a trash can out for him to hurl into in case. But after losing any sense of self-confidence you can’t find the will to be a good person right now. 
Fuck this. You storm off, missing that Sunghoon’s door has opened on your way to the bathroom between your rooms.
Fuck that was terrible. 
This is terrible.
Somehow you’ve made this worse.
Grabbing a fresh towel, you eye the shower and contemplate hopping in again, urged to scrub your skin raw. Until it hurts and stings, burns until it bleeds. Anything to forget that seriously just fucking happened to you.
“Seems to be a reoccurring theme,” Sunghoon shatters your inner monologue, jumping and twisting around with a hand clutched to your chest. “Always dropping the ball and leaving you hanging.”
“God, get the hell out of here.” You breathe, snatching the towel to press against your front.
“Cute.” He smiles fast, instantaneously dropping. “You know I’ve literally been inside of you.” 
“You’re so annoying.” You sigh, tired and more frustrated than you can even comprehend. Stuck somewhere between heated arousal and anger, pent up after getting so close only to be let down. “Not tonight, okay? I feel like shit.”
Sunghoon actually looks concerned for once, leaning against the door bathroom connected to his room, lips drawn down. “Hey, he’s just drunk.”
“Yeah.” You sigh disappointedly, fixing the towel around yourself. “You said he drinks a lot right?”
His lips tweak from side to side, contemplating what to say. “He quit for a good while.. haven’t actually seen him this bad since our first year of college.”
“Oh, so..” sniffling, you can’t stop the warmth pushing from behind your eyes. Sucking in your bottom lip to contain a whine. “Is it me? Do you think it’s my fault he’s acting out like this?”
“Hey hey,” Sunghoon doesn’t bother to approach you cautiously. Cupping your cheeks to wipe a droplet from the corner of your eye before it can roll down. “Don’t cry because of this. I guarantee you he’ll wake up regretting all of this tomorrow, probably feel like such an asshole.”
In fact, I’m banking on it.
As comforting as he’s trying to be, you can’t stop the tears already springing free, crumbling in his hands. “I shouldn’t have encouraged him to drink, I didn’t know how bad it’d be..”
“Look at me.” He cooes, cleaning up the wet tracks rolling down to your chin. “No reason you should be crying on your dream vacation like this. Especially not because my brother can’t control his little vice. Don’t worry, alright? He’s gotten help for it before, he’ll be fine.”
He’s gotten help for it before..
“Is Heeseung like..” you slump, pressing closer to his chest. “..an alcoholic?”
“It’s possible.” Sunghoon shrugs, diverting his gaze for a minute. “He said our mom would frequent bars everyday toward the end. I’ve read that it could be genetic, you know, addiction.”
“That must have been hard for him to be around..”
As much as Sunghoon wants to throw out a ‘what about me?’ So desperate for someone to feel bad for him. Because he didn’t even get those memories with his mother. Didn’t even get to cherish the good nor the bad, and hearing about it from his brother only made him more resentful. Even if it hurt, broke his heart, he could only ever wish to have been there with his mom in the end. To suffer with her, to have some type of love for her that would have warranted sympathy the way Heeseung had.
“You have to put yourself first.” He coughs, clearing his throat to shove those thoughts aside. Forcing a smile, he reaches for a tissue to wipe your cheeks properly. “Enough with the tears, alright? Unless..”
Taking a step back, he reaches for your hands, coercing you to let go of the towel that's loosely tucked into place. “You want a real reason to cry, one that makes you feel too good.”
“Hoon..”
“We don’t have to fuck.” He bemoans, mouth dragging down to one side sadly. “Let me make you feel good.” He shrugs, drawing you closer, chest pressed to yours. “I know you didn’t finish..”
He waits a few seconds, each one ticking away loudly in his head. Thigh easing between yours, rucking the towel up higher for him to settle between. The warmth emitting from your core immediately meets his upper leg, watching for any sign of resilience. Met with the sight of your lips parting open, eyes going hazy, and neck arching back slightly; he takes the chances to shove in more. Thigh nestled up right against your cunt.
“Will you let me?” He says breathily, reaching for the top of the towel barely holding on. “Make you feel good.”
Say no, tell him to stop, pick up your towel and get inside of the shower like you’d been planning. 
“K..” ah, it’s as if your subconscious has no control over what leaves your mouth. That’s all it takes for him to grab onto your hips, burying his digits in roughly to really knead your curves between his fingers. Each touch tells you the story of how much he’s missed touching you like this, how he too feels it. He needs it, he wants it.
Sunghoon can’t imagine choosing anything over this right now, let alone getting his dick deep inside of you. He has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying it. To keep down his harsh comments about how his brother doesn’t deserve you, even after having to listen to you cry on his cock more than once now. He know he can fuck you better, how you really need. He can make your thighs shake just from this, rolling down onto his thigh, getting that delicious friction right up against your clit.
“Wanna kiss you.” Licking at his lips, he rubs up to your waist. Squeezing and dipping in, peering over your shoulder at the bathroom mirror reflecting the size difference between you. His hands large around your middle, further emphasizing how easily he could crush you. 
The sound of your breath draws him back, beginning to pant raggedly the more you roll your hips down and rut up his thigh. Planting his foot steadily, he helps you move faster, dropping his forehead to press against yours. Lowering your eyes, you nod, just barely, lips pouting out for him.
He’s wanted it since earlier today, only scoring a small tease with his lips on your cheek. The pictures have been driving him mad, imagining the folder he’d fill up with his tongue inside of your mouth, your eyes rolled back, spine arched up off his bed. 
This kiss feels long overdue, really taking his time to lean into it, groping up to your breasts. He flicks your nipples, pinching them between his fingers until you moan into his mouth and he sneaks his tongue in. This is what he’s been craving, being close to you again. Not only fucking but intimacy you can’t achieve with a quick nut. 
The staggered breaths, noses bumping into each other, plush lips fighting against his to deepen the kiss that's already brought you as close as can be. His chest tightens as your breath turns shakey, eyes clenched shut the faster you ride his thigh. It’s amazing to kiss you this way, lulling your release with no more than his lips. But he wants more, his greedy heart thrumming wildly begging for a taste.
Landing a few searing pecks on your upper and lower lip, he cups your face to take in your lustful gaze. Glazed over eyes, swelling lips parted open, cheeks flushed with heat. That makes his cock jump, hissing away the way he can hear a painful cry shouting at him from inside. Leaving you with one more kiss, he lowers to spread your legs, salivating at the vision before him.
Wet, chubbed up, a strip of well groomed hairs leading down to his heaven. The space between your legs he’d give up anything to be buried inside of for hours, days on end. Fingers, tongue, his dick, whatever the fuck you’ll give him.
The silence would kill him any other time, distract him with questions asking why you’re not screaming, why you’re not crying. But when your hand reaches into his hair and pulls, it stings right to his cock. Eyes fluttering open to find yours, nails digging into the soft skin of your thighs. 
Another tug at his scalp loosens his jaw, heavy eyelashes fanning open. Panting above him behind your ample chest rising rapidly. This is different, hotter, sensual..
The sounds of your aroused exertions dancing together before he leans in still focused on you. Tongue lolling out loosely, lapping your clit without a challenge. The map of your body ingrained in his memory, making it seem all too easy to work you on his tongue.
“Ahh, shit.” You hiss, draping a leg over his shoulder. Your free hand on the counter keeping you held up even as you sway and jerk forward. “Inside i-inside, fuck me with your t-tongue.”
Sunghoon groans deep, rumbling through your core. As much as he wants to spend extra time torturing your clit, he knows Heeseung left you hung up to dry and suffer. His tongue circles your entrance, coated with a thick layer of wet arousal combining with his spit. Flicking a few times to tease you, he really grips onto your inner thighs, holding you hard enough to not budge. Even as tremors roll up your legs and chest, you can only pull on his hair.
Each tug has him releasing moan after moan, gliding the tip of his tongue inside when you finally pull extra hard making his forehead bunch up. He slaps your inner thigh for being so rough, while also egging you to do it again, teasing you with short penetrative licks. 
“Hoonie.. please.” 
Lucky for you, he can’t deny how fucking pretty you sound whining. Moistening his lips with the abundant amount of wetness pouring out of you, he pushes in the rest of the way. 
It’s more than maddening to have his tongue inside of you right now, only minutes after Heeseung had been 9 inches deep. You can’t control the way your hips jump forward, pelvis smacking his face as you start to roll up and down his tongue. Everything about it feels nasty, shameful, stirring up a taboo heat through your chest. It’s wrong, after all the guilt you’d just put yourself through.
But it feels so right. Stretching your fingers through his silky locks, pussy clamping down on his tongue with each long thrust in.
“You’re g-gonna make me—“ you stammer, head tossed back, stomach fluttering with butterflies. “C-cum, I’m—“
Sitting up on his knees, he really grabs onto you good. Tongue jamming in and out, emitting the filthiest wettest sounds between his face and your cunt. The mess of slick trailing down his chin, neck soiled with your arousal, completely drenched. He’d drown in it, suffocate inside of your pussy, die with his tongue stuck in this very spot.
“Fuck—ahh, fuck.” The way your face scrunches up makes his knees go weak. Gripping the bathroom counter by your sides to hold his balance. Release forces his tongue out enough for it to spill onto his neck and chest, licking up what lands on his lips. He swallows stiffly, teeth grinding, taking in long deep breaths through his nose to not bust inside of his pants. Allowing you to catch your breath and go lax against the bathroom mirror while talking himself down from pulling his cock out and fucking you like an animal. A few minutes go back before he stands and cups the back of your neck, stealing your breath with another long hard kiss.
His fingers lift up, glistening wet, exactly the same way they looked on the plane..
“Won’t get tired of watching you cum on me like that.” He admires, bringing his digits to your lips. “Better when you’re wrapped around my cock..”
Slipping past your lips before you can get a word out, he licks at the wet slick trickling down his hand past the digits permeating your lips. Meeting your mouth halfway to suck the clean together. Hungrily dipping in and out for a minute until you’re both slurping more saliva than your release. 
“Can’t have you go to sleep with this mess..” he says huskily, squatting back down to his knees to stretch your legs apart. Large hands clasping your inner thighs, tongue dragging from your open entrance to your clit. Light strokes work to thoroughly clean you up, dragging fat stripes from side to side with his gaze intently watching your face fall apart.
A light kiss on your mound finishes off the job, leaving your legs trembling enough to satisfy him with the thought that you’ll see him in your dreams tonight.
“C’mere.” Sunghoon instructs, standing back up. Scooping you up from the bathroom counter, he quietly grunts, adjusting your weight around his waist to securely pick you up.
“Where you taking me?” You slur, still coming down from your orgasm. Head instantly falling down to rest upon his shoulder. 
“Bed.” He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Been a long day for both of us.”
“Mhm..” you yawn, allowing him to lay you down and get you tucked in. Sleepily blinking up at him with a confused expression.
Cocking an eyebrow, he settles by your side and fixes your hair, pushing loose strands away from your face.
“This is weird.” You mumble, lips smacking together tiredly.
“What’s weird?”
“This. You. Everything.”
“We can talk about it tomorrow.” Yeah. Tomorrow when his brother will undoubtedly be too fucked to do anything with you. Judging by that entire fucking bottle he downed..
“S’weird..” you yawn again, eyes falling shut, breath turning shallow. 
He watches you succumb to your exhaustion, leaning on a propped up elbow as you drift off. 
“You might not understand yet,” he whispers, speaking to himself. “But I’m doing what’s best for us.”
Not just me.
That’s what he tells himself. That this is what’s best for the both of you, not only to fulfill his greedy desires, to enhance his larger than life ego.
Getting up from your bed, he heads back out to the living room to find his brother still passed out on the couch. Fast asleep, drooling like a baby completely unaware of how chaotic and ruthless the world outside of his dreams can be.
That’s Heeseung’s problem, he doesn’t get it.
Nice guys never win. Not in this dog eat dog world. Their dad taught him that, it’s every man for himself, even if it means destroying a relationship with your own bloodline.
If his brother had fucked off, would he have cared this much about having you? He thinks about it, unlocking his phone to admire the new background he set of you, his favorite of the photos he took today. Because you’re smiling, softly smiling, genuinely staring at the photographer instead of the camera. His chest squeezed the longer he looked at it, zooming it to be sure. 
Any doubt, petty reasoning, self-absorbed desires.. they disappear whenever he’s with you. And as much as he hates to acknowledge it, he’s attached. Very attached. 
“You shouldn’t have gotten in my way.” He glares at Heeseung, shutting his phone. He sighs, turning around to go to his own bedroom. Not wanting his brother to wake up mildly drunk and start a fuss if he finds you in bed together.
Stopping at his door, he looks at him one more time, void of any remorse. “It’s time to take out the trash big bro.”
・・・・・・・���・・・・・・
The ring of your alarm going off has you patting around for your phone, groaning as you sit up and finally shut it off only to find yourself alone.
You definitely did not end the night alone..
Did Sunghoon go back to his room? Who cares. He shouldn’t have ended up in your bed in the first place. You need to stop letting this happen.
What if Heeseung’s puking out his insides again? You should check on him first. Make sure he was able to even make it to the toilet bowl on his own..
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed when you reach the cracked open door to his room. Leaned over with his elbows on his knees and a contemplative expression stressing his face.
“Hee?”
He peers up, eyes swollen, lips puffy as if he’d been crying. “We need to talk.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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To Be Continued..
taglist. @wvnkoi @yjwluvs @fictional-waste @heedeungieluvbot @moonmoongi @moonlighthoon @ddazed-lhs @en-gine @deobitifull @aeminju @eladandan @dneltrise @downbadreading @iweirdthingsblog @beomgyusonlywife @mevalemadrws @sunghoonsbaebae @iloafeyoo @axmdocs @seuomo @parkhonnie @hoonspot @aphrodijin @donghyckl @sxftiell @jinlarities @nshmrarki @idkcallmenevy @wonniestars @mimimovv @valiantcyclevoid @misodiary @hafuunkjw@unlikelysublimekryptonite @lmnhead
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eternity-death · 2 months
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Penacony Reactions to you spanking them
No TW’s I think. Just sillies being silly. Established relationship with Reader in all these hc’s.
—————
Hanabi
Head snaps 180° at you and you scream.
She’s traumatized you and now you will never do it again.
This doesn’t stop her from getting you back, though. And she’ll do it in public to make it worse. It’s not a one-and-done deal either, it becomes a regular thing.
You’ve just sentenced yourself to a life of sore-booty and humiliation. Was it really worth it?
Black Swan
Stares at you.
Her expression is a little hard to read and the longer she looks at you the more you feel implored to apologize.
She’s not mad though, she’s actually rather amused. And she’s getting even more entertainment by watching you squirm.
Eventually she gives and just chuckles. If you’ll allow her, then she’ll give you a nice tap on the butt too.
Sampo
He does that one goofy (Mickey mouse) scream.
Very animated reaction. Jumps 10 feet off the ground and covers his behind. He looks back at you like a kicked puppy but you know it’s all fake.
Sniffles and says smthn like, “How could you do this to your best bud, Sampo?”
Gets you back when you least expect it. Like you actually scream bloody murder because your guard is down and you can’t hear him sneak up on you bc he’s light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if you’re in public either. Be very afraid.
Aventurine
“Woah! Getting a little frisky, eh?”
If you’ve got something separating you two like a chair or a counter, he will chase you around it to reach you. Spanks you back, harder, with zero hesitation.
He starts tapping your butt as a regular thing afterwards. Almost like a greeting.
“Hey babe.” Then a light slap. When he feels extra mischievous he’ll grab it.
Acheron
You are unable to slap her booty because she catches your hand before it makes contact.
Just kind of looks at you and goes, “What are you doing.”
You explain to her that spanking is a sort of gesture between close companions. She doesn’t quite get it but decides to just go with it.
Later on, when she greets you, she strikes her hand down on your behind so hard that your teeth clatter. She asks if she did it right with such a hopeful tone, that you can’t find it in yourself to tell her that shattering someone’s pelvis is not part of the gesture. (When she does find out that she’s hurt you she apologizes deeply and coddles you)
Dr. Ratio
Lets out a high pitched yelp.
Gives you the most scandalized look and defensively rubs his tush.
“Did you really just do what I think you did?”
Strategizes a way to get you back. He has a blackboard with physics equations for the perfect angle and fall of his hand, pinned papers and calendars with your schedule and his, etc. He’s terrible at hiding his intentions too. When the time comes for his revenge you already anticipate it. What you didn’t anticipate was how strong he was. You guess those biceps aren’t just for show.
Firefly
Why would you ever? What kind of monster are you?
She yelps and just stares at you; hands covering her behind, face flushed, and her mouth agape.
Apologize.
Sam
You have a death wish.
Another one who catches your hand before you can spank. He just puts your hand back in your lap and goes, “No.”
He actually just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. His… butt… isn’t very soft, you see.
If you want him to, he’ll lightly tap yours back.
March 7nth
Gasps and launches herself at you with full intention of getting you back.
It turns into a chase, where you run in circles around the gazebo until she gets too tired and gives up.
You laugh about it but later forget. Little do you know, March has been scheming ever since.
“AHA!” You feel a harsh slap against your behind and yelp. The vendor you were talking to looks at you and your girlfriend as if you’ve both grown an extra head. She laughs victoriously, “See? I told you payback was coming!”
Robin
“Oh!!!” Gasps and covers herself. She’s a little freaked out at first but once she see’s it’s you she giggles.
You don’t really expect her to spank you back but she does. With the same amount of force that you used.
It kinda escalates into a competition where you two see who can land the most spanks in one day. Just don’t do it in front of her brother.
You’re losing btw.
Sunday
Do NOT spank him in public. He will be very crossed with you. Not funny did not laugh.
You may proceed with the spank if you are in private though.
He actually squeaks when you do. Then once the initial shock wears off he laughs, incredibly amused by you. Doesn’t say it but he plans on returning the favor.
When he does get you back you don’t expect it. You’re probably cooking or marking off the calendar when he passes you and goes, “Good morning, my love.” And then he slaps your butt. Moderate strength, enough to make you yelp but not enough to sting.
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kamaluhkhan · 3 months
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anti-curse
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pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader
summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.
warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3
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when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.
given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.
archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.
so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 
“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”
the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.
that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.
you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 
if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 
you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 
“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”
the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”
"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 
percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”
leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.
you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.
“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”
“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.
“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”
“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.
"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.
"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.
"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."
"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.
"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"
you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."
"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."
"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.
"that's...that's different."
"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"
you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.
"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.
"then what did you mean?"
percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”
“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”
percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 
“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.
“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 
her conclusion makes you freeze.
demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 
what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.
you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.
you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?
either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.
without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 
“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.
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call-me-strega · 2 months
Text
Dc x DP Prompt #8: Best Friend’s Brother
Preface: this prompt can be used with different characters but I’m writing it as Dead on Main bc that’s my favorite. Also the colleges I mention are real colleges from the DCU
~~~
Danny Fenton was 18 when he moved to Gotham for college.
It was the only place with a half decent engineering program that would take a kid with his record; drop in grades, unexplained absences, missing class, a disciplinary record, etc. Plus there was a decent saturation of both magic and ectoplasm in Gotham’s air. After he got accepted he decided to tell his parents he was Phantom. They reacted surprisingly well all things considered. They were horrified to learn they’d been hunting their son but it quickly turned into acceptance to listen to what he had to tell them. Now they turned their obsession from hunting ghosts to learning more about ghost more humanely. He also managed to get his former rouges to agree to call off any major shenanigans in favor of less destructive outlets. (He got Ember a TikTok and a YouTube channel, he set up a drag racing circuit in the realms for Johnny and Kitty, let Technus enter the internet as long as he stayed within Amity’s grid or help Ember manage her stuff, allowed Desiree grant wishes for Make a Wish Foundation kids so long as she didn’t horribly twist them, etc.)
Now with the town not at constant risk of danger and his parents agreeing to really handle any rouge ghosts, Danny could leave Amity with a clear conscience. His friends were also growing up and heading to their own colleges. Tucker was heading to Ivy University in New England, which rivaled MIT in terms technological prestige, and Sam decided on Vandermeer University in Pittsburg, which had a reputation for being a very liberal, anti-authority campus. Although their trio would be spread out, Danny found comfort in the fact that they’d all moved from the Midwest to the Northeast.
With promises to stay in touch a visit. Danny got set up in GCU’s dorms, ready to move into the next chapter of his life.
~
Danny Fenton was 20 when Tim Drake (age 19 but nearing 20) officially became one of his best friends.
They had been introduced to each other by their mutual friend Sebastian Ives for a new Warlocks and Warriors campaign. Their friendship extended beyond WnW when they ended up on the same Applied Physics and Mechanics class. It was cemented when they got pair up for a project in class and had to spend lots of time around each other.
Danny didn’t mind that Tim tended to be a bit flaky and Tim didn’t mind that Danny was possibly not 100% human. They didn’t ask each other too many questions about that stuff. They knew the other had something odd about him and that was fine with them. It was nice to have a causal friend they could be normal with, without being questioned about their more peculiar behaviors.
They officially became best friends when the built a Rube Goldberg machine with a working trebuchet within an hour of the three they had to complete it for their Applied Phys-Mech final. Danny introduced Tim to Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tim introduced him to Steph, Tam, and Cass. They texted and hung out fairly often. They truly did consider each other one their best friends.
~
Danny Fenton is 22 when he meets Tim’s family.
Tim’s 21st birthday is coming up and he has plans with his family the day of and is going out with his friends, including a couple from out of town, that night. They want to take him out for his first drink and it’s fortunate timing since it’s the weekend so nobody has to worry about classes. Everyone who was going was already informed that Tim would be spending most of the day with his family before Steph and Cass would bring to the club everyone was meeting up at. Which is why it’s purely a coincidence when he runs into them at BatBurger during the lunch rush.
Danny had just picked up the part-time job to earn a little extra cash to pay for his hobbies. Tim new about it but didn’t know the exact location he worked. That’s why they were both presently surprised when they heard each others voices in the drive through. When they pulled up to window Danny saw his friend leaning over a tired looking black-haired man, trying to stick his head out of the drivers window to give Danny a maniacal grin.
He quickly introduced the other passengers of the car as his dad, Bruce, and three of his brothers Dick, Jason, and Duke. He mentioned he had a fourth brother, Damian, who was still at home. Danny couldn’t really see everyone all that well on account of they were inside a car but he happily greeted them as well. They laughed and Danny wished Tim a happy birthday saying he’d see him at his celebration later tonight before handing them their food. He could the rowdy boys ribbing their brother as the car drove away and Danny resumed his work.
That incident seemed to have opened a gate because now Tim felt more comfortable inviting him over when his brothers were still around the house. He occasionally talked about his family more and Danny returned the favor letting snippets of his own family spill a little more. Occasionally, he’d see Tim’s family outside of his interactions with Tim.
He’d run into Damian, and sometimes Bruce or Dick was with him, at the museum or in the park while the younger had been walking his dog and stopped to say hi a couple of times. He chatted with Dick a couple of times when they were both in line to get coffee at a cafe. He saw Duke on a college tour once and waved at him.
The family member he probably saw the most other that Tim (and by extension Cass) was actually Jason. He’d ended up ditching BatBurger to get some more practical experience at an apprenticeship at the auto shop Jason went to to get his motorcycle serviced. The two of them got along pretty well and would often make conversation when Jason was waiting on his bike to be ready or to get his bill.
At first is was small talk about little things like how he and Tim were doing in class or how their days were going but they soon grew to have genuine interests in each other. Jason let Danny talk about space and mechanics and even gave his own thoughts sometimes, once helping Danny realize he was over complicating the circuit board of the device he was building. In return Danny let Jason ramble to him about literature, even taking the initiative to read a book Jason mentioned so he could talk to him about it better. Their conversation tended to be on the briefer side but were always enjoyable to both parties.
Danny actually liked being around Jason a lot but didn’t really bring that fact up a lot around Tim as it didn’t seem necessary. Tim was pretty glad that Danny got along with his family but he preferred to keep them in separate places in his mind. Danny knew and respected that, only really mentioning that he’d seen them recently and that they’d told him to say hi on their behalf (or die in Damian’s case occasionally).
~
Tim Drake was 22 when he came to a horrific realization.
Well, perhaps horrific was a bit of an exaggeration. Tim wasn’t necessarily horrified by the revelation. In all honesty he didn’t know how to feel. He felt an odd mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, confusion, and optimism(?).
You see, Tim and Danny had been hanging out in the campus center, studying and goofing off when he got a text from Jason saying he was coming to pick him up for family dinner at the manor since he was closest and Dick was busy picking up Duke and Damian from their after school clubs.
“What’s up?” Danny asked him curiously.
Tim set his phone on the table and started putting his stuff away. “My brother is coming to pick me up for family dinner so I gotta head out soon.”
“Ah well I should probably get going too. Tell Dick I said hi.”
“Actually, it’s Jason. Dick is picking up Duke and Damian,” he said shoving his textbook into his bag.
“Oh? That’s nice of him. Hey do you wanna just head out together?” Danny asked, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.
Tim noticed a slight strain in Danny’s voice at the mention of Jason but didn’t comment. He just nodded his head sure and walked outside with Danny. They got out to the street when Tim realized he’d left his phone in the library. He faced palmed and asked Danny if he could hold his stuff so it wouldn’t slow him down as he ran back to the campus center to get his phone. Danny agreed to and hold his stuff and wait for Jason while Tim went back.
After getting his phone Tim started heading back to where he left Danny when he saw that Jason had arrived that Jason had arrived and was talking to Danny. He was about to call out to them when he noticed several things in quick succession. Danny was fidgeting with his hoodie, something he tended to do when nervous. The tips of Danny’s ears were a light shade of pink (it isn’t cold out yet?). Danny looked deeply absorbed in his conversation with Jason in a way that reminded Tim of how he talked about space. And Jason seemed just as absorbed in the conversation as well.
The gears in Tim’s head went into overdrive and he realized ‘Ah- Danny has a crush on Jason’. His eyes widened as his head whipped around to examine Jason again. He saw a look of genuine fondness in his eyes. Thus Tim was confronted with the aforementioned horrific realization and complicated feelings. Tim didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both.
‘My dumbass best friend has a crush on my brother. And worse(?), my idiot brother returns those feelings.’
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hannieehaee · 5 months
Text
18+ / mdi
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content: friends to lovers, pussy drunk mingyu (metaphorically), smut, f reader, dry humping, pining, sub!reader, etc.
wc: 840
masterlist
bestfriend!mingyu who's been crushing on you since you met but you were dating someone at the time so he pushed his feelings aside and befriended you instead
now that you had been broken up for a while, mingyu had a constant feeling in his chest urging him to make a move or at least try to get with his pretty best friend. the only problem was he was terrified of ruining your friendship.
little did he know the reason you broke up with your ex was because you couldnt stop thinking about mingyu. his sweet personality, the way he treated his family (he was always so so nice to his parents and sister), how caring he was with his friends, how respectful he was to his staff, how tall and handsome he was, how tenderly he always held you, how much you'd love for that tenderness to turn into something more.
you and mingyu were both stuck in a catch 22, unknowingly waiting for the other to make a move despite being completely incorrectly certain that the other did not like them back. until the dam finally broke.
"jesus christ" he exhaled against your ear, bare chest pressed up against yours.
it had been a regular hang out with completely innocent intentions (he swears !!) but you just looked so pretty that day and you were sitting so so close to him, he couldnt help but be a little extra drawn to you today.
it started with sitting a little closer than usual. now that you were single, the touchiness between you had gone up quite a bit, allowing for mingyu to finally indulge in your touch as he'd always wanted.
having been sitting closely on the couch, gracing each others hands at times, it was easy for mingyu to wrap his arms around you, and much easier for you to scoot and take a seat on his lap (after all, you were besties, right?).
you're not sure who started it, but you had found yourself guiding his hands under your loose shirt, allowing him to run his fingers up and down your abdomen, clearly warming up for something more.
in a very predictable turn of events, his hands ended up groping your bare breasts under your shirt, making you exhale at the warm and gigantic touch of his hands.
one thing led to another and you'd found yourself in your current position. almost completely bare with a six foot tall mingyu in a matching lack of apparel on top of you as he dragged the last clothed part of his body against you, rutting right against your clit, causing you to mewl as his head remained glued to your neck, licking and biting softly at it.
"jesus christ," he had exhaled against your ear a moment ago.
"baby, is this okay? are you sure?", he questioned, showing no signs of stopping his movements, even increasing the force behind them.
"y-yes. fuck. more please," you begged fruitlessly, half-aware that mingyu would give you anything you wanted anyway.
as he sped up, you wrapped your legs around his back, attempting to grind against him, obsessed with the drag of his massive size against you.
your high quickly approached. and with this knowledge mingyu sped up, grabbed your legs and wrapped them more securely around his waist as he rutted against you maniacally.
"do you know? do you have any idea how long i've waited?", he rasped against your ear.
'there wasnt a single day where i went to sleep without thinking of you first', he continued. "wishing i could drag this pussy up and down my cock and have you crying as you feel how much i want you."
"is this enough?", he questioned. "it'll never be enough for me. i need you again and again. need to be inside you. need you in my tongue. need to take care of you in every way. gotta take care of my pretty girl, right?", he rambled, rutting harshly against you as you almost reached your breaking point.
moaning and crying under him, you clawed at any part of him you could reach, feeling insanely euphoric at his words and at the heavy drag of his cock against your most sensitive parts.
"g-gyu- fuck pl-please dont stop. fuck. fuck please!", you begged, knowing your end had arrived.
"i wont. fuck. never. im gonna make you cum. and then im gonna bury my face between your legs and make you cry again. gonna make you come over and over so you can be ready to take me. gonna treat you so so good, my pretty thing. gonna love you so good," he sounded exasperated as he himself reached his end inside his boxers, feeling like a horny mess knowing he had much left in him to give.
as you both fell from your highs, mingyu got off the bed and swung your legs around his head, getting ready to give you yet another orgasm that would have you regretting not leaving your ex the moment you met your best friend.
a/n: uhhh once again not proofread im running on fumes atp. if theres any inconsistencies im so sorry </33
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faevi · 5 months
Text
GUNSHOT OF LOVE. - (gojo smut)
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Scenario: You trust Gojo Satoru so much, even if he has a gun to your head. You'd do anything he says, with or without the gun. That's true love & loyalty.
Word Count: 10,167.
Content / Trigger Warning: PLEASE READ ALL OF THEM. female reader (she/her), DARK CONTENT, GUN-PLAY(!!); sucking on it, weapon touching intimate areas, pulling the trigger (no actual bullets), etc. threats; including death threats(!!), degradation, humiliation, pet-names, praise, spanking, tit slapping, dacryphilia/crying, sex over a desk (being bent over it), fear play, power play, blowjob, throat-fucking, spit, cum, blindfolded, bdsm, dominance submission, obeying orders, hair pulling, bruising, being marked up, lingerie, everything is very much consensual and planned, mean satoru, big dick satoru, unprotected sex, creampie, penetration, daddy kink, wth do i warn, lots of aftercare and love afterwards <33
I think that’s everything? Please kindly (heavy emphasis on the kindly) let me know if I missed anything!! It’s not my intention to.
Note: Firstly, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!! It’s implied that the whole gun-play was discussed before, ok. Different kinks exist and it’s clearly a BDSM based scene. Not vanilla at all. Also idk about others but I have fun reading kinks (obviously not every single one, i do have limits like others) that I wouldn't ever do myself, so. It's fiction and reading be fun. Not my best writing (again). Always room for improvement. Please ignore any mistakes because I didn’t edit it afterwards dkfjgfd. Please don’t come at me if this isn’t for you - I have plenty of warnings and it’s dark content so :’), it’s to be expected. Satoru is a bit of a meanie during it but I swear he’s super sweet after <333 Please let me know if you enjoyed it ; - ;. I will try to do better for the next piece.
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!
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You’re kneeling in his office, shivering and blindfolded. He’s forgotten about the window. The gentle breeze coming through the slightly ajar window, embracing you and you found yourself wishing for his warmth to smother you instead. Now isn’t the time. Especially with his red satin tie around your head, blinding you. You could barely glance down to see your body. He’s currently out of his home office to deal with something. Only giving you one order to obey. Kneel and stay put. He’ll know if you move.
It’s impossible to disobey Gojo Satoru.
Especially since you’re the one chasing him, craving not only his attention but his touch. You’re only wearing lingerie; laced and black. It was to surprise him when he was sitting in his office, typing away and boy did it surprise him. Your lips still feel a pleasant tingle from the searing kiss he gave you before his phone rang. You sigh softly, impatience rising and your knees start to ache from having to kneel directly against the wooden floor. Hands rest behind your back, fingers laced together and squeezing so tightly to try and contain your excitement. Satoru will return soon. So, you wait.
You straighten your back when you hear the small creak of the office door opening, sock-covered feet padding lightly against the floor until you sense someone towering above you from behind. The white-haired male gazes down at you, eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and admiration he holds for you. You didn’t move, it seems. Heart swelling up with pride, Satoru’s long fingers stroke along your hair on the top of your head. Nice and calm. Soothing.
“You listen to me so well, Y/N.” Satoru praises, nails scraping along your scalp until a soft whine leaves your lips. “Though, I do remember saying to not distract me today. You couldn’t resist it.” He sighs, crouching down behind you. Even when he’s at almost the same level as you, it always feels like he’s towering above you. Blindfold or not, you’re not blind to that. “You’re lucky that I adore you so much.” He whispers, long fingers trailing along your bare arm, grinning to himself when he witnesses you squirm from his touch.
“Daddy—“ You breathe out, tongue lolling out as you struggle with containing yourself. Your thirst for the taller male continues to grow, and your sense of touch is only heightened when your sense of sight is temporarily forbidden. With both hands now, his fingers continue to soothingly stroke along your bare arms from behind you. It’s featherlight and you couldn’t help but wonder what Satoru will surprise you with.
“It’s a good thing that I have work wrapped around my finger, they won’t question why I ended early today. Although, it’s you who is utterly tangled when it comes to me. Isn’t that right, baby girl? You’ll do anything I say. No matter how scary or dangerous it is.” He whispers low against your ear, warm breath fanning against it. His large hands now cup your breasts from behind, fondling with the soft mounds and not bothered by the fabric. You feel flustered because he’s right. You’d do absolutely anything for this gorgeous human being. Maybe it’s because you know if you did use your safe word and he’d stop instantly; that you’d do anything. There’s no one else you trust more with your well-being or life as a whole.
“Isn’t that right?” Satoru repeats himself, just seeking reassurance before he continues. His fingers pinch your sensitive buds through the thin fabric and you whimper, thighs clenching together. “Yes, Daddy. I’d really do anything—.” You confess through your needy whimpers, eyes clenching tight beneath the satin fabric of his tie. You wish you could see the way his hands expertly grope your breasts because you swear, you could come from this alone if he continues. You’re in the palm of his hand, eager to take it all. You’re completely loyal to him and it just arouses Satoru. Especially your sweet obedience.
“Mm. Good girl.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he stands up behind you once more. The white-haired male isn’t afraid of showing you affection any time of the day, but especially during moments like this. Simply, to ease your mind that he still loves and cares for you. No matter what he’s going to put you through. Rough. Humiliating. Pain. Dangerous. It’s all just thrilling to you both and truth be told, Satoru is the best of both worlds to you. You get everything. The rough or the gentle. Whatever the day calls for. Maybe it’s his loving warmth that seeps through, that makes you call him Daddy rather than something formal, like ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’. It’s fitting for the white-haired male and Satoru loves it when you call him it. It didn’t matter what he was going to do, he’ll always be your Daddy.
He’s not behind you. You can somewhat sense him in the direction of the desk in his office when you hear sounds in that direction. You pout, impatience starting to seep through. You hear a drawer open and close. Is he just going to make you kneel here? Suddenly, you yelp in pain, hands instinctively coming up towards the source of pain. Satoru bunched up your hair before surprising you with a forceful yank, forcing you to lift your knees until he lets go and your knees meet a— cushion? Your heart flutters despite the pain tingling in your scalp. He cares. “Hands in your lap.” Satoru orders and you quickly oblige, fingers lacing together in your lap.
Satoru is crouching in front of you now, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouting lips. They’re impossible to resist. Something cold and hard brushes along your bare thigh and he watches your eyebrows furrow with confusion of what it could be. His eyes light up with something sinister and exciting. “You look so pretty for Daddy. So impossible to resist. I should just have you kneeling here and actually do work. You’d be like my own personal art for the day. Hold any pose I put you through, no matter how uncomfortable it is.” Satoru coos softly and you whine, still feeling whatever it is stroking your thigh, even prodding against your covered womanhood, panties already drenched with your juices. “Maybe I’ll take you to work and force you to do that. You might feel humiliated with so many eyes on you but I’d be so proud to show off what’s mine.” He says, voice laced with his usual amusement. You huff a little, embarrassed yet aroused at the idea. You really would do anything for him.
“Part your legs and stay still.” He orders with a sweet kiss to your temple. Head cocking slightly in confusion, you willingly spread your legs far enough but still able to keep your knees against the comfortable pillow. The mysterious object in his hand brushes along your inner thigh before pressing against your womanhood and you gasp sharply, feeling the cold… metal, even through the thin fabric. Whatever it is, feels good against your needy pussy. Especially when Satoru presses more firmly until your slick-covered folds manage to spread despite the panties and the object presses against your sensitive clit. “A-Ah..” You gasp out softly from feeling a surge of pleasure wash over you as the foreign object rubs your clit slowly in a circular motion. You feel your clit throb beneath the touch, whining as pleasure continues to spread through you, leaving you to crave more of it. You’ve always been sensitive so it’s a difficult task to keep your legs apart.
Satoru loves to watch you struggle before him. He continues to rub the edge of the object against your throbbing clit, eyes fixated on your quivering thighs and how the panties weren’t enough to stop your juices from seeping out further and with the use of the metal object, Satoru smears the juices across your inner thighs. You clench your fists tightly, your mind racing with thoughts you’re barely able to process. You would have been ultra-sensitive to his warm touch alone, but the object just sparks your sensitivity further, only wishing you could know what it is. Some sex toy?
Your brows stay furrowed and Satoru laughs, delighted by your needy reactions. “Bet my pretty whore just wants to know what it is, hm? Patience. I’ve barely touched you.” He sighs out heavily and you feel somewhat embarrassed to be so reactive, face feeling hot. “Daddy, I just miss seeing your face..” You whisper breathlessly, nose crinkling as a pathetic attempt to try and move the tie around your eyes. A failure. He tied it pretty firmly. “Cuuuuute.” He coos softly, tapping the edge of the object against your bare thigh.
Satoru’s free hand cups his own cheek as his head tilts, elbow against his knee, watching you with amusement. It’s funny watching your body jerk with each slow tap, head turning towards the touch. “W-What is it?” You stutter out, unable to hide your curiosity as it grows. Satoru ignores the question for the moment, leaning back and his eyes refuse to leave you. “You’ll know soon. Take your panties off.” He orders breathlessly, his own heart pumping with excitement because fuck, he loves seeing your needy cunt before his eyes. Even if you’re pretty in lingerie.
Your fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties, hastily shifting yourself so you can tug them down the length of your legs and just as you are about to toss them, you feel his grip on them. Quickly, you let go. Without even needing him to speak an order, you move back to your original position. Kneeling on the pillows with willing legs staying apart and hands draped by your side. “Such a good girl, baby.” Satoru praises, though already sounding so distracted when his crystal blue eyes focus on your pussy.
Dripping and looking so inviting, Satoru brings your panties up to his nose and inhales sharply, groaning at the heavenly smell of your sex. His cock strains against his briefs, desperate to be relieved and touched. Your pussy clenches around nothing upon hearing his delicious groans, lips staying parted and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining. You just want to see him. “You smell so fucking good, baby. Panties drenched from being so needy, huh?” Satoru says, words muffled by the damp fabric still pressed against his lower face. He grins to himself from seeing you shyly tilt your head down and stuff the panties into the back pocket of his black slacks.
His long legs bend once more to crouch in front of you, one hand still gripping the object tightly in his hand before the other comes around to swiftly unclasp your bra. Even blind, you’d never get used to how hot the action is from the taller male. He’s taken your clothes off more times than you can count. The pads of his fingers ghost along your arm as he peels down the strap until the bra is finally off and tossed to the side. Your heart is racing, wondering what he’d do next to you, finding it even more thrilling with your ability to guess becomes non-existent when you can’t see his movements.
The tip of a mysterious object presses against the side of your breast and Satoru enjoys the sight of your squishiness. You’re still trying to figure out what it is by focusing… The end is somewhat circular and ah— You feel it start to drag between your breasts, trailing down your naked stomach and back to your dripping womanhood. Satoru could practically see the goosebumps appear, trailing after the contact the object makes and he smirks.
You start to pant softly, nails digging into your own legs. “Since when did you love to take your time so much, Daddy..” You whine, lips naturally pouting. This a silly remark on your behalf as you both know that he is never one to rush if he has time. Still, you’re only being cute to try to find out what he’s doing and what his more sinister plans may entail. “Sluts need to learn how to wait.” He sighs, sliding the object back down to where it originally was, pressing against your dripping folds.
“I’m your slut, a-ah…” You whimper out, spreading your legs further when you feel the cold metal once more gliding between your folds, thankful that panties aren’t in the way anymore. The cool sensation is only heightened from the lack of sight, leaving you all warm and tingly between your legs. Satoru is still far too calm for what he’s usually like and it leaves you dying of curiosity. What is he hiding? Whatever sex toy it is; feels so damn good as you grind against it, tiny gasps escaping from the jolts of pleasure you feel when it presses against your bundle of nerves. Your head is spinning, tilting back as moans of his name spill from your lips.
Satoru watches hungrily as you turn into a needy slut for something foreign between your legs, gaze never leaving as your hips begin to pick up the pace as you hump against the metal object, only warming it up with your sweet slick and keeping it against your hot pussy. His own lips parted in silent awe, head hanging forward and refusing to look away. Sometimes it’s moments like this where he wonders how he managed to score you for his selfish self. Eventually, he pulls it away and stands up to tower above you.
Sad sounds instantly part from you, feeling despair from the lack of that pleasure and your pussy clenches around nothing, clearly desperate to be filled up. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” Satoru asks, voice nothing but serious and a hint of excitement. You blink beneath the blindfold, shifting on your knees before your lips curl up to form a genuine smile, heart fuzzy and warm. “I trust you with my life.” You breathe out softly.
“Take your blindfold off, then.”
Finally. Your hands come up, first attempting the knot behind your head and it takes a moment but you manage to tug it free, untying the knot and keeping your eyes closed as the tie drops, draping along the front of your naked thighs. You open your eyes and deep fear momentarily crashes into you hard.
There’s a gun pointing at your forehead, dripping with your juices and just beyond the semi-automatic pistol, is Gojo Satoru smiling wide at you, eyes full-blown with carnal desire. The sight of him eases your fear, even if he does look rather manic with a gun to your head. Your trust and love for him far outweigh the fear you briefly felt. Besides… why is your cunt dripping more than ever and your heart pumping excitement through you? This is beyond dangerous and yet, you want it with him.
The pad of his index finger lightly caresses the trigger, pressing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. Your breath hitches, body starts to tremble. One pull and you’d be gone. It still doesn’t truly shake you to your core. You’re terrified. Natural to be so scared when there’s a gun to your head and yet, you also can’t shake away how aroused it feels to be forced into a position where all you can do is trust and obey Satoru. His head tilts forward, looking down at you through strands of white hair. Having you in such a vulnerable position is a blessing to him. It’s a right that only he gets the privilege of seeing. A privilege to put you through. “You look so scared, baby. Daddy won’t pull the trigger if you just follow orders.” He purrs, voice low and strained. The barrel of the gun now travels lightly down the length of your face before nudging against your pretty lips.
“Suck it.”
You whimper softly, eyes almost going cross-eyed as you try to look towards the barrel of the gun. Instead, you focus on his fierce grip on the weapon, baffled by how a large hand alone can look so hot when it’s steady and having control over something so dangerous. With a nudge to your lips, you press a sloppy kiss to the tip, glancing up towards Satoru’s face as you drag your tongue directly over the hole. You notice that his finger isn’t on the trigger anymore and assume it’s because you actually obey what he said.
“Daddy..” You whisper breathlessly, swirling your tongue around the end of the pistol. It’s not as smooth and easy to do compared to when you suck Satoru’s pretty dick. It doesn’t taste as pleasant either. Cold metal against your tongue as you drag your parted lips along the side of it until you make contact with his hand. You keep your eyes on the tall male, tongue dancing along the gun, drool coating it before you repeat the same teasing action along the other side, your heart still racing from the fact that this weapon could end you.
Your lips meet the barrel of the pistol and you look up at Satoru. Silently, he nudges it against your saliva-coated lips and you’re quick to obey. Your lips wrap snugly around the tip, metallic taste filling your mouth already as you suck on the end gently, moans muffled. Satoru curses beneath his breath, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke along your hair. He’s so very pleased that you've proven his words to be right. That you really would absolutely do anything for him. Hell, he’s sure you’d even die for him and to have someone that loving and loyal to him? To no one else? Fuck, his cock throbs harder than ever before. You look cute in his eyes as you suck on the end of his pistol. It usually sits in his side drawer, but seeing you enter his office in lingerie? It just called to him.
It’s a bit difficult compared to sucking his cock. The sliding of your mouth isn’t as easy, yet you don’t care. You still feel desperate to please the white-haired male. With your jar relaxed, you bob your mouth up and down half the length of the gun, having to keep your mouth wider to be able to fit the awkward size comfortably.
Mindlessly, his free hand begins to palm himself through his slacks and groans quietly from the friction of fabric rubbing against his pulsating cock. He begins to push the gun further into your mouth until the open end presses against the back of your throat. You gag loudly, throat muscles constricting around the metal object and it causes your eyes to sting from feeling your throat ache, scraping against the pistol. “Keep it in.” He sighs out softly and you have to breathe heavily through your nose, lack of oxygen evident from having a gun deep in your mouth. His crystal blue eyes are wide and heavy with lust as they focus entirely on you and the heavenly sight of you choking on his weapon. His finger caresses along the trigger and you whimper, completely muffled. You continue to try and swallow around the pistol until finally, Satoru relents.
Satoru slowly slides the pistol along the flat of your tongue until he pulls it away entirely. You inhale sharply, a string of saliva connected from your lips to the barrel of the gun. You couldn’t stop yourself from dry-heaving, trying to inhale the oxygen you briefly missed. His free hand reaches to tenderly stroke along your hair, lips curling to form a playful grin. “Good girl, baby. Look at you, dripping all over my office.” He comments, shifting his foot until he taps it against your dripping cunt and you whimper from the jolt of pleasure that shifts through you. Your juices drip slowly onto the wooden floor from how excited you feel, despite the aroused terror you also feel from the gun still being pointed at you.
It’s coated in your saliva still, Satoru isn’t bothered to wipe it clean. Instead, his free hand begins to unbuckle his belt. He pauses, noticing how your fingers twitch by your sides. The white-haired male chuckles, delighted by how you’re always so eager to please him. “Go on, then.” He says, tapping the end of the pistol against your forehead as further encouragement for you. You waste no time. Hastily, your trembling hands come up to finish unbuckling his belt and swiftly sliding it out of the loops to drop it on the floor beside his feet. You look up at him, admiring his beauty as you curl your fingers beneath the slacks and briefs. Your hand unzips the front and you begin to pull his bottoms done until finally, his cock springs free. Satoru steps out of the bottoms and kicks them to the side.
You practically drool at the pretty sight of his thick, long cock throbbing in front of your face. “I don’t even need to threaten you. You’re an eager slut, already drooling.” He sighs out dramatically, nudging the barrel against your cheek, making it squish. You flush with embarrassment, though you can’t retaliate. Gun or not, Satoru is right. The pillow beneath you is already damp because of your dripping cunt. Long lashes flutter and you waste no time to wrap your soft lips around the leaking head of his throbbing cock. Briefly, you tease the tip with your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up the pre-cum, hot moans muffled.
Satoru breathes in sharply between his clenched teeth, cock twitching in response to your teasing. His free hand grips firmly onto your hair and roughly yanks you forward as his hips push out, forcing his pulsating length down your throat further. You whimper, thankful that your mouth isn’t filled with the taste of metallic this time and instead with something else that you love to taste. Your tongue rubs along the underside of his cock, keeping your jaw loose as he guides your head with ease by the fierce grip on your hair, mouth bobbing up and down the entire length.
You couldn’t breathe properly, throat muscles constricting every time he slides deep enough, only leaving you to gag loudly and fucking into the saliva that gathers. It feels heavenly to him. Addicting, too. To feel the soft squishiness of your cheeks rubbing against his cock as he continues to fuck your mouth onto his cock, hips meeting each time. Tears sting every time you feel the throbbing cock push down the length of your throat until your nose presses against smooth skin. It’s even harder to breathe through your nose when it happens, the lack of oxygen making your head feel all light and floaty. Eyes roll, saliva dribbling down your chin and you could feel the edge of the gun still pressed to your forehead, his heavy pants and you choking on his cock filling the air.
You trust him. Trust overwhelming any sense of fear you have about the weapon in his hand, though it will always look menacing in his grip. People would find you to be a freak for also being aroused by it at all, clit throbbing and walls clenching with the need to be filled up. “Fucking hell— fuck. Every hole of yours made for Daddy, huh?” He groans, his stomach starting to tighten with the need to orgasm. He’d rather not. Satoru is more eager when it comes to seeing his white sticky cum dripping from your fucked out cunt. Your hands stay by your side in fists as a pitiful way to try and contain yourself, feeling high off of his words alone. His hand shifts to the back of your head, thrusting deep and forcing you to take every inch of his length once more, not allowing you to move. You stay there, scrunched nose against his stomach as swallow around his cock, throat muscles squeezing around it before he pulls you off quickly, moaning your name.
You begin sputtering and dry-heaving, desperate for the oxygen to flow back. It’s complete bliss when you breathe, throat aching from the sweet abuse. Strings of spit connect your lips to the shiny tip, coated with a mixture of pre-cum and your spit. “Ah~..” You exhale out shakily, looking up at the white-haired male with complete awe. Only he can ever treat you like this and get away with it. It’s thrilling. Hot, even. The gun momentarily dangles loosely from his hand, inhaling slow deep breaths as he looks down at you, admiring how pretty you look on your knees, already looking fucked before he even stuffs you full. Satoru’s lips curl to display a wicked grin.
“My pretty princess, all mine to play with and not a single complaint. I could shoot you and you’d still be desperate to obey me and give me pleasure.” He teases through a coo, waving the gun in your face briefly. Your puffy lips form a cute pout, whining. “Daddy sees right through me. Just want Daddy’s cock so bad..” You whisper, voice breathless and ragged. Satoru hums, long fingers dragging through his white hair before he raises the weapon once more. “You expect me to get to your level to fuck your tight pussy? Bend yourself over the desk.” He orders barrel nudging once more against your forehead.
Frantically, you stumble to your feet. You feel relief for your knees because, despite a pillow, they were starting to ache. Still panting from the result of your mouth being fucked, you make your way to his desk on shaky legs. Funny how he already has you in such a state just from kneeling for too long. “Haven’t even fucked you yet.” Satoru snorts with amusement, though silently endeared as he walks behind you, free hand gripping your hip as he guides you forward. Your eyes make contact with his belongings across the desk. “Daddy, what about your—“
Your words are instantly cut off as you watch Satoru swipe his arm across the desk until everything lands on the ground. Thankfully there is a rug beneath his desk to lessen the damage. Not that you care— That was extremely hot and before you could express that, his large hand firmly grips the back of your head to force you down, upper body bending until the side of your face is pressed against the wooden desk and you whimper, feeling a dull throb. “Baby girl~, looking even more enticing.” Satoru purrs, tapping the end of the gun against the desk beside your head. You couldn’t help but tremble beneath his grip, eyes focusing on the weapon next to you, noticing how his finger once more caressed the trigger as he shifted the angle of it to face you.
Automatic fear washes over you, soon turning into excitement that drips from between your legs. Your trust in him only deepens as you begin to teasingly sway your hips. Satoru drags the barrel along his now empty desk, crystal blue eyes refusing to look away from the seductive sight of your ass. His free hand gently glides down the length of your body, neatly trimmed nails grazing along your naked back. “You’re so pretty, Y/N. Especially like this, as if you were made to be bent over my desk and take my big cock in any hole of yours.” Satoru says and you could practically hear the cocky smirk in his voice. Your thighs squeeze together, cheeks heating up. He isn’t wrong. That’s what you often think about. How you were born into this world to belong to the white-haired male, to feel excitement and pleasure as you do anything he wants. Your fetishes and kinks always line up with his. You glance towards the gun that appears, even more, shinier because of your sweet juices mixed with your saliva. You bite back a small smile. You were made for each other.
His large hand grasps your right ass cheek firmly, squeezing harshly enough to coax sweet mewls out of you and to, naturally, admire the way your ass fills up the gaps between his fingers. Fucking hell, he loves your ass. He brings his hand back, hovering before he brings it back to the surface of your ass swiftly, slapping your ass cheek firmly. You whimper, feeling the sweet sting spread across your cheek. He alternates his harsh spanks from cheek to cheek, grinning almost like a maniac as he enjoys the joyful sight of your ass cheeks jiggling before his very eyes. His palm starts to feel numb and yet it doesn’t stop him. Nor do the tears that glue to your long lashes as your gaze stays fixated on the automated pistol pointed in your direction, looking so menacing. Spank after spank, the impact each time his hand lands seems to be harder than before, causing you to squirm on the spot and bite back your sobbing. The pain by Satoru’s hands feels so good.
You gasp out sharply when nails scrape over your burning skin, knowing that light bruises were already beginning to form from how hard he hit your ass cheeks. “What are you doing just laying there, princess? It’s like you’re asking me to pull the trigger and leave you here to bleed.” Satoru murmurs, dragging the edge of the gun across the table before you feel the cold metal, slicked with your saliva and juices; pressing against your bruises ass cheek. “If you don’t show me how much you want me..” He warns, finger tapping lightly on the trigger.
Hastily, ignoring how the deathly threats invoked some sort of wild excitement out of you, your hands come back towards your throbbing ass and you whimper softly, hands trying to gently cup across the surface of your ass and spreading your cheeks wide enough to finally reveal your both of your holes. Your pussy is on full display, folds parted and strings of your slick attached to them. Satoru grins, ignoring your whimper as his free hand soothingly rubs along your waist. “Such a good girl, baby. Always obeying me... You’re just a little dumb, s’all. Need Daddy to always guide you through it.” The white-haired male purrs, feeling daring enough to press the tip of the pistol directly against your puckered asshole and chuckles when he sees it clench. “Scared I’m going to fuck your asshole with my gun, baby? Would you prefer my cock?“
You nod your head eagerly to the thought, heat rising to your cheeks and nails dig lightly into your own flesh, keeping your ass cheeks spread. He laughs and you’re delighted to hear it, unable to stop your lips from curling. “Just love Daddy’s cock so much, made to fill my holes up..” You mumble, breath hitching when the edge of the gun presses further against your asshole. You shiver, not knowing what to expect as he drags the metal object down between your ass cheeks and rubbing once more against your folds.
He loves it, really. You looking so vulnerable. Scared by the gun and yet confused for being aroused. This power that he holds over you is so addicting; something he’ll always want to chase. The dominance to pair with your submissiveness. Satoru snaps out of his trance, placing the gun on the desk and finally gripping your waist with two hands. “Keep being my perfect girl, don’t think I won’t pick it back up and hurt you. Have you crying for me, begging for me to stop the pain. Hm? Only Daddy would be able to help you, isn’t that right?” He says, voice low and soothing as his hands come down to squeeze over your own hands that keep you spread for him.
Your heart flutters and all you can do is helplessly nod. Satoru soaks it all in. The sinful sight of you bent over his desk, sweet juices smeared along your inner thighs and dripping from your core. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to hold himself back when he’s desperate to slam himself inside of you with no warning and have you choke on your pretty tears. One hand grips the base of his cock as he guides himself forward until he’s grinding his erection against you. A heavy sigh falls from his soft lips, head tilting back as he focuses on the feeling of his length rubbing between your slippery folds, each slide so smooth from your slick. His bulbous tip leaks pre-cum that smears along your cunt, pressing against your needy hole, finally. You whine, nails scraping once more across your bruised ass cheeks that leave a burning sensation across the numb flesh, wiggling back to show your eagerness for his cock.
You still find yourself nervously glancing towards the gun that rests about thirty centimetres away. One false move and your beloved Satoru could pick it up, having every right to. Yes, you’re so willing and thankful to give him that much power. To hand over all the control to the white-haired male and deeply trust him in return. He spoils you, deep down. Cares for you. Loves you. It’s only right to be loyal and obedient. Hell, it makes it so much more thrilling. One of his large hands caresses along your bare back again, his gaze fixated on your face and so he knows where you continue to glance. It makes his cock throb with so much excitement, seeing you nervous and yet, determined to behave.
“Your trust in me, Y/N…” Satoru trails off, his own blue eyes focusing on his cock, perfectly lined up and ready. It already glistens beneath the office light from being coated in your mess. You squirm a little, wondering what exactly he wants to say and— “Ah!” You strangle out a cry of surprise laced with pleasure & pain when you suddenly feel his cock pushing in deep, hard and fast. He didn't 'prepare' you with his fingers like he usually does; to coax you into relaxing and being able to adjust comfortably when something bigger enters. Not that it's usually needed. He just knows you love the feeling of his long, slender fingers. Still, the pain of your walls stretching only adds to the thrill. Satoru slams his throbbing length into you, hips snapping forward and nails digging into your soft flesh as he groans your name out in pleasure, head tilting back. “It’s so arousing—.” He finally manages to finish between heavy pants, already feeling your warm velvety walls cling right around his erection and squeezing.
“Daddy, oh—, nngh... So big—“ You whimper out, eyes closing tightly and your words only make his ego inflate, leaving him to grin down at your naked body beneath him. “Yeah? Daddy’s so big that he’s filling you right up. Don’t deny that it feels good, baby girl. I don’t like my good girl to lie to me.” He teases, hands soothingly stroking your sides. Satoru wastes no time. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust or get comfortable as he begins to thrust, nice and slow. You lay there obedient and eager to take his monstrous-sized cock, even if the stretch of your inner walls still hurt. Your cheek presses against the surface of the desk and if it wasn’t for his fierce grip on your hips, your body would have been jerking forward with each hard thrust.
The pain begins to subside already, replaced with the pleasure you often chase for. His cock sliding in and out with ease, all thanks to how deeply aroused you are. Satoru pathetically tries to contain himself by digging his nails into your flesh, muscles tensing up as he watches his cock disappear inside your needy cunt with deep fascination. “Fucking— tight.” He pants out as he feels your warm walls drag along his throbbing length as if eager to keep him buried deep inside. You squeeze around his thickness, feeling utter bliss and too deep in the pleasure to even feel flustered from the squelching your pussy makes every time he pulls out, only to push back in. “Nn, Daddy~.” You moan out happily, mind blank as you nuzzle the hard wooden desk.
Satoru laughs breathlessly, pulling back until only the bulbous tip of his cock stays inside your warmth. Naturally, a whine of complaint falls from your lips and you try to wiggle back onto his cock. His hands easily hold you in place and you yelp with surprise when he swats your ass cheek. “Fucking whore, always so greedy for Daddy’s cock. The dumb girl can’t even think of anything else. huh? Isn’t that right? So cock obsessed that you’d just lay all day with your legs open to show off your slutty pussy. Want Daddy to fuck you, baby girl? Hm?” The filthy, degrading words fall easily from his lips and you flush with humiliation. It only drives your lust further and deeper. You feel pathetic to know that it’s true. You don’t care in the end— You just want his fat cock in your tight pussy.
“Daddy, please~. Fuck your personal toy. I’m such a whore for your thick cock, a-ah!” You cry out in sweet ecstasy when he slams into you, arching your back into the air. Instantly, he’s leaning down until his toned body is pressing against yours, hand groping your breast and squeezing harshly. He’s grinding his cock into you, leaving you feeling so drunk off the pleasure as moans spill easily from your swollen lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Take all of me.” He whispers against your ear, shivering from his hot breath and teasing tongue against your earlobe. Satoru continues to grind hard, addicted to the way your inner walls seem to desperately try to cling to his throbbing length, only for your juices to make each thrust so easy. He massages your breasts, taking his time with each and it leaves your legs trembling. His hand comes down until he presses just above your womanhood, groaning softly from feeling his own cock make you bulge.
You whimper from feeling his hand pressing down, tears glued to your long lashes. Everything just feels so good! You could barely contain yourself even if you wanted to. Satoru adores seeing you already unravel before him and it prompts the desire to see more. Satoru carefully slides out of your core and you pout, hole clenching around nothing. The white-haired male’s lips are curled to form a smile of amusement, hand slapping easily against your wet cunt as you keep your legs spread. “Patience, princess.” He says, enjoying the soft cries that escape you from his slap.
Satoru’s thick and heavy cock continues to throb and he grips your wrists firmly to tug you upwards. “Eh?” You question, though happily obeying as he controls your movements. With not needing to use much of his strength, Satoru easily manhandles you. He twists you around until you’re facing him and hoists you up onto his near-empty desk. The gun still lying near one of the corners. “Not even trying to help Daddy here, I guess you really do love me handling you.” He sighs, a chaste kiss to your forehead before his hand pushes against your shoulder and your back meets the flat surface of the desk.
Your eyes are wide from feeling the impact, gazing up at him with lust and legs open, your body looking so inviting for him. Always. Satoru wastes no time. He’s too eager to feel you around him again and so with his hand at the base of his cock, he guides himself back in. Tip pressed against your hole before sinking in entirely, coaxing mewls to spill from your needy lips. Satoru shivers, feeling you squeeze around his erection once more. Your hands grip weakly onto the edge of the desk as Satoru starts to thrust fast and deep. You moan out in enjoyment when you feel his cock stretching you out every time he slams into you, eyes rolling back and lips staying parted. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave your face as he pounds relentlessly into you, heavy pants mixed with eager grunts and groans parting from him.
The white-haired male never gives in, no matter how good it feels to have your walls wrapped snug and tight around his pulsating cock. Satoru continues to thrust hard and fast, skin slapping against skin echoing off the empty office walls. Your breasts bounce with each pounding of his length, the office desk creaking beneath you. “Daddy!” You choke out in ecstasy, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. It only drives him further to witness you in such a delicious state; utterly drunk off of his cock alone. One hand comes down to your pussy, thumb pressing against your throbbing clit to rub teasingly in circles.
Electrifying jolts surge through your body from the contact to the sensitive nub, face scrunching up as you cry out for the taller male, clenching around his cock that continues to pound into you with no mercy. Every touch, every thrust of his is so damn thrilling that your body only chases for more, even as you start to feel delirious. Sweat lightly coats your body, tiny yelps escaping your swollen lips as his other hand slaps your breasts which continue to jiggle, thanks to his cock slamming deep into your core. “Da-ah~ Nnghh..” You babble out, cheeks glistening from your tears. Satoru is panting heavily, not minding the numb tingle in his palm as he slaps your breasts in time with his thrusts. Fuck, he swears he’s never felt anyone or anything so damn perfect before. The way your velvety inner walls cling onto his cock as if desperate to keep him buried inside of you; keep you full to the brim.
You both can sense the ultimate highs coming and yet, he refuses to give in just yet. It’s almost like magic to see how fast his throbbing cock disappears and your dripping cunt taking every inch, always stretching right around and squeezing. One hand steadies you against the desk, gripping onto your hip. His eyes are wide and alive with swirls of lust as his other reaches for the gun. Just that feeling of more power, that will really fucking send him over the edge. His long fingers wrap around the grip of the automated pistol. He pulls his cock out to the very tip, listening to your cute little whines. You want him back inside of you so badly and— “Ah!” You cry as he slams back in, eyes barely able to concentrate as he leans in, hovering over you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep.
So close, you’re both so close. Nearly there.
“Would you die for me, Y/N?” He pants out heavily, refusing to look away from your face that twists with innocent confusion from the question. You’re too drunk off of the pleasure to really think, though you know in your heart, what the answer is. “Yes— Yes, would die for, nn.. you, Daddy. Anything for you.” You moan, hand coming down to rest over his on your hip to squeeze. A single laugh escapes him, pleased by your answer. Loyalty really is the best in his eyes. To have you especially, be happily devoted to him. “Prove it, baby. I want you to prove it.” He says, voice low and breathless. You open your eyes when something presses to your forehead and that’s when you notice he picked up the automated pistol mid-fuck, still thrusting deep inside your dripping cunt, balls slapping against your ass.
Fear tightly tied in with the pleasure you feel, continues to surge through your body. Your eyes filled with tears almost going cross-eyed as you look at the gun, crying. You’re babbling and incoherent, nails digging into his wrist. You have to prove it. You want to prove it. To Satoru, your entire world. The metal scrapes against your forehead as your body still jerks with every pounding. Satoru feels like he could barely breathe now when your pussy clenches so tight around his length, forcing his grip on the gun to stay steady. “I’ll do it, Y/N. I’ll pull the trigger, just say you’ll die for me. Show me— Fuck, so tight... Show me your devotion.” He antagonises further, stomach muscles tensing. In his eyes, you look so pretty as a sobbing mess. All for him.
You’re blinded by the tears that spill down your cheeks, wailing mixing into moans of ecstasy. It’s so sinful, in your mind. To be so afraid and yet aroused. That your needy pussy continues to be coated in your excited slick, making it easier for him to fuck into you. “P-Pull it, Daddy! Let me show you!” You manage to stutter out in a broken cry, refusing to close your eyes as you look up at him. To look at your everything. “Fuck—” Satoru grunts out, cock aching from witnessing something so beautiful. “I’m pulling the trigger, baby. Three—” He cuts himself off, the barrel of the gun pressing firmly against your head.
Your body is shaking, your stomach hot and tight with the need to let everything go. “Daddy!” You choke out, eyes wide and cheeks stained with constant tears. “Two.” He warns, crystal blue eyes refusing to leave yours. He cocks the gun. This is it. This is when you’ll show your true devotion to the white-haired male; your lover. Satoru’s slick-covered cock slides out until only the tip stays nudged in.
“One!”
You hear the click of his finger pressing down on the trigger as he slams one final time into your tight heat and you swear there’s an explosion of stars. You come around his cock, walls fluttering before squeezing around him. Your eyes shut tightly when you hear the trigger, too deep in your feelings of ecstasy to process the reality of no bullet. The gun slams down on the table as his muscular arms wrap around your trembling figure. He’s groaning against your ear and finally spills every drop of his seed, filling you up to the brim. Your walls clench repeatedly around his thick length, eagerly milking him through his orgasm as you sob through your own. You cling onto him, legs and arms feeling like jelly as you do so. “I’ve got you, Y/N..” Satoru whispers, hand already stroking along your back as he holds you against his warm body.
It feels like a long while for you to calm down from your high, desperately holding onto the white-haired man as you sob through your orgasm, your excited mess seeping out from your pussy. It’s mixed with his own sticky cum and he’s still refusing to pull out of you. Maybe selfish of him, but he swears to himself that’s mostly focused on you. He has to. Wants to. After everything he’s just done. Reality soon crashes over you. Even when you’re deeply in love and trusting someone; it doesn’t stop the breakdown of relief. Relief mixed with guilt and confusion. Relief for being alive, that there really wasn’t any danger. Guilt for being aroused by something so dangerous in the hands of the man you love. Confusion... Why? Why did it arouse you?
Satoru makes gentle shushing sounds, not with the intention to silence you but to comfort you. Tears continue to spill down from your cheeks, nuzzling his broad shoulder in a pathetic attempt to hide. “You’re okay, baby… It’s okay. Daddy would never hurt you. Not like that, hm?” Satoru whispers lovingly. He finally relents, sliding out of you until his cum spills out of your gaping cunt and drips along the edge of the desk. Your walls clench around nothing, already missing the feeling of being full. A small hiccup escapes and you feel your body being gently rocked. “D-Daddy..” You mumble through sniffling and he pulls back a bit.
The white-haired offers a warm smile, eyes now clouded with the love he has for you. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking hold of the gun. You couldn’t help but whimper, gaze fixated on it. “Look.” He pauses, sliding the magazine out to reveal the insides of it. Completely empty. Not a single bullet inside. Deep down, you knew that was the case. Satoru would never dare threaten you with a live weapon. It was all part of the play; something you both discussed wanting to try weeks ago. Everything was consensual… Still, you feel confused. Was it wrong to be so aroused by having your life in his hands? Trusting him completely? Satoru slots the magazine back into place with a click before setting it aside. With one hand on you, Satoru leans down to grab a bottle of water that he kept near his desk. He’s always a prepared man, even when things seem so spontaneous. He uncaps the bottle and gently guides your head away to press the edge of the bottle against your lips. You obey and take small sips of the water, thankful for the liquid to ease your sore throat.
“You’re not gross, Y/N. What you feel is completely normal, baby. It wasn’t exactly the gun that aroused you. Nor me. It was about the power exchange and trust.” The white-haired male gently explains and it surprises you; to be read so easily. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull back slightly to look up at him, tears glued to your long lashes. His heart aches at the sight, large hands tenderly cupping your cheeks as he scatters loving kisses across your forehead. “It feels weird, Daddy... I was so scared.” You confess quietly, sniffling. “But, I trust you so much. Even with my life. You’d never really do it, right?” You ask rather timidly and Satoru shakes his head quickly. He knows such thoughts are normal after an intense scene and you only deserve the best love and care afterwards.
“Would never ever. The only fear and pain we accept in this household is consensual. I love you so much, Y/N. You did so well for me.” Satoru praises, hands caressing your bare back as he smiles down at you as you continue to sit on his desk. Your heart flutters at the sight of his smile, wrapping your arms around his middle to cling onto him, burying your face against his firm chest. So warm and comforting. “I like trying new things with you. I know people would probably think of us as freaks, but I like it. You’re the only one I trust.” You mumble, voice muffled by your face refusing to pull away from his chest. Your words ease his mind and he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. Even a dominant person in a relationship needs aftercare and to be reassured. You know that very much. Especially with Satoru. He may be intense during the scene and heavily aroused, but he’s still someone who is soft and gentle; behind all that cockiness. “I like it, too. We’re made for each other, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me… Now, come on.”
You cock your head to the side in question before you let out a soft squeal as you feel Satoru lift you up with ease. Satoru’s hands cautiously cup your ass cheeks as he walks to the closed door. You look back towards the office — items scattered across the floor and cum dripping down the table. You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t we clean that up?” You ask quietly and Satoru laughs, warm breath tickling your neck. “I’ll clean it up later, we’re focusing on you right now. How does a bubble bath sound? Let me take care of you.” Satoru says through a dramatic whine and you can’t stop the giggle from escaping, resting your head against his broad shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom.
“You’re the best at taking care of me, Satoru.” You say through a happy sigh. He sets you down on the counter, finally shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt off properly. You watch, eyes glazed over with love as he’s preparing the bath. It’s thankfully quite big and will be able to fit both of you comfortably. Even with his long legs, that your eyes currently admire. His hand glides under the tap of running water, adjusting the temperature to the warmth that he knows you prefer. He looks back at you for a moment, noticing you looking. “Are you admiring my ass?” He teases, lips curling into a grin and you huff, looking off to the side. “Your legs, thank you very much. Though, you do have a nice ass.” You grumble and Satoru snorts.
Once the bath is prepared and nearly overflowing with bubbles, Satoru walks over to scoop you back up into his arms. “Admire all of me.” He says with a playful pout and chest puffing out. You lightly smack his muscular pecs, smiling. “Always.” You respond with a kiss to his lips as he settles both himself and you into the water. Your back is against his front as his long legs trap you within. Briefly, he tilts his head back and sighs, enjoying the warmth of the water and your body pressing against him. You nuzzle back into him happily, prompting him to smile. Quietly, he grabs a loofah, squirting your favourite scented lotion on it before he begins to scrub it gently against your arms. He firmly holds each arm up as he rubs in a circular motion, spreading the suds across your skin. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach as he continues, feeling the loofah against your back and across your front. No one else in the past ever took care of you to such lengths.
Still, it’s not fair. “Satoru—” You begin, taking hold of the loofah once he is finished. You manage to wiggle yourself around until you’re facing him. With an eager huff, you begin to scrub against his skin and across his muscular body. Satoru’s playful gaze softens, keeping his arms up against the edge of the tub as he watches you. “Is this an excuse to touch my hot body?” He asks, unable to keep it in. You splash water at him and he laughs, leaning in to press a loving kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment.
“I get to touch your hot body whenever I want anyways.” You say as you pull away from the kiss, feeling giddy. There’s no sense of fear or insecurity within you anymore, completely comforted by the white-haired male’s presence. He loves you so perfectly. Satoru rolls his eyes as he sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I’m just a piece of meat.” He jokes, kissing you once more before wrapping his arms around you. “Just kidding.” He reassures, pulling you against him.
You both stay in the bath until the water starts to feel cold and so, Satoru stands up. He quickly dries himself off so he’s not dripping water across his apartment, wrapping the towel around his waist. He grabs an extra fluffy one for you, guiding you to stand up before he wraps it around you.
“I can dry myself—”
“No.”
You bite back a smile, now standing on the bathmat as he dries you off and even going to great lengths to squeeze the water out of your hair carefully. Satoru bends down to peck your lips, the towel now replaced with a fuzzy bath gown in your favourite colour. “Can you go to the bedroom? I’ll be quick.” Satoru promises, nudging you to the exit of the bathroom. Happily, you oblige. You walk down the long hallway— You still find yourself surprised sometimes by how big his apartment is… Bedroom, too. You push the door open to reveal the master bedroom, walking over to sit on the edge of the king-size bed that you happily share with the male.
Satoru quickly unplugged the bath before hanging your towel and leaving the bathroom. He walks in the opposite direction until he’s in the kitchen. He grabs another bottle of water from the fridge and two granola bars from the pantry. Perhaps some would think his actions during aftercare are a bit extreme. That cuddling is ‘enough’. A few nice words. To him, that’s barely anything. He remembers briefly of the past— You being surprised by how far he goes to make sure you’re okay. Maybe it’s surprising cause he doesn’t seem like the type. Not with an overly confident persona and playfulness. There will always be layers to discover when it comes to Gojo Satoru.
Once in the bedroom, Satoru walks over to set the bottle and granola bars down on the bedside table. Your gaze softens. “What if I wasn’t hungry?” You ask, allowing him to scoop you up to drop you down against the middle of the mattress, sinking into it. “Don’t care, you’ll still eat it.” Satoru says, guiding you to roll over onto your stomach. You make a questioning sound, sensing him moving away and you tilt your head to watch him. He walks over to a set of drawers to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them up his long legs and tucking himself in before grabbing a bottle of lotion from the top surface. “Satoruuuu, you do so much. Let me take care of you, too.” You whine and Satoru settles beside you, grinning a little. “You do plenty.” He reassures, pressing a kiss to your temple.
He slides the gown up until your ass is revealed to him and he sighs. “You do have a perfect ass. My favourite.” He says, slowly squeezing some of the lotion onto his palm and you pout. “I hope you don’t see any other asses.” You mumble, breath hitching when you feel the coldness of the lotion before he begins to massage the lotion in. “I don’t know, hard to not look at my own.” Satoru says lightly, kneading the supple flesh gently. He never wants to take any chances with bruising. The spanking was barely anything compared to what he had done before, but it will never stop Satoru. Maybe it’s an excuse to touch you further and the thought makes you giggle. Thankfully, his tender massage does ease the throbbing in your ass. Once finished, Satoru leans down to press a playful kiss to each cheek. “Mwah, mwah.”
You laugh, prompting him to grin before he tugs the gown back down and rubs his hands on his sweats. He sets the lotion aside before his firm grip rolls you back over. Satoru easily hoists you up until you’re settled against the pillows. He tugs the blankets over your lower half, making sure the pillows are nice and plump for your comfort. He joins you under the blankets, settled against the pillows next to you. His arm reaches behind you to grab one of the granola bars and drops it on your lap. “Eat.” He orders gently, now wrapping his arms around you to snuggle into you, happy to just finally embrace you in bed and relax... Not that he doesn’t love doing aftercare, he really does. Especially after an intense session. It’s just that nothing quite beats cuddling in the end. You feel extra cosy still in the bath gown to relax in and have your boyfriend clinging onto you. He’s always been the affectionate kind and you adore it.
You snack on the granola bar in a comforting silence, breaking a bit to feed to him. He happily takes it between his teeth before chewing. One hand comes up to stroke along the back of your head, smiling softly. “Feeling okay now? Do you have any regrets?” Satoru asks, needing to know. You tilt your head, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “No regrets at all, my love. I had fun and it feels comforting to know that we can be freaks together.” You say with a soft giggle and Satoru relaxes. “Agreed, my love.” He copies, keeping his arms wrapped around you. You smile, noticing his eyes closing for the moment. You briefly think back to the gun that was pointed at your forehead. Fear doesn’t flare up within you. You know that no matter what happens between you both— No matter how intense things could be; there will always be love and trust. You will always be happy and willing to try something new with the man you love. Besides, it’s not like it’s the only thing you both do. There’s plenty of gentle love-making, too. “I love you.” You mumble shyly, nibbling on the granola bar. He smiles, eyes still closed and snuggling into your warmth.
“I love you, too.”
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starlightsearches · 11 months
Note
Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!
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Jealousy, Jealousy
📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!
thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!
Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader
Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖
Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄
You're fuming in the front seat.
Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.
"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."
They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.
Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.
"To you."
"What?"
"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."
Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.
You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.
But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.
If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.
That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.
Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.
Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.
He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.
. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.
He wishes you'd smile at him now.
"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"
"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.
You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.
"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”
Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.
Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.
“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”
“It’s different," you snap back quickly.
Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.
You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"
He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."
It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.
He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.
"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"
You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.
He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.
"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"
You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."
Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.
Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.
"Stupid how?" he asks.
You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."
It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.
"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.
You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?
Is Valerie as delusional as he is?
"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"
Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.
"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."
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It wasn't a no.
He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.
It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.
Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.
You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.
Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.
You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.
There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.
Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.
But it's you.
You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.
"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."
He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.
"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.
He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."
Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.
And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.
Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.
“So you blew both of us off, then?”
He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.
“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.
You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.
“Why are you here, Eddie?”
“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.
The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.
“What’re you sorry for?”
What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.
“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”
Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.
For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.
You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.
But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.
And he knows he can't take that.
"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"
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But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.
That's a fucking record.
He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.
Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.
Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.
And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.
"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"
Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.
Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.
But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.
He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.
And Eddie goes back to staring.
This time, though, you're staring back.
He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.
And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.
Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.
"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"
Eddie just shrugs.
"Probably something stupid."
You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.
You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.
It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.
He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.
Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.
"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"
You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."
It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.
Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.
"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"
You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.
"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."
He hums. "Stuff?"
You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.
But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.
Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"
"About what, Eds?"
"Why you're so mad at me . . ."
You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.
And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.
"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."
You don't get to finish your sentence.
Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!
Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.
So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.
"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.
"Hey—"
There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.
Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.
The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.
He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.
"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."
There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.
It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.
You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.
Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.
Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.
"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"
"Fuck off."
Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.
There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.
It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.
"I'm down here."
You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.
You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.
He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.
"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."
"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."
The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.
Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"
"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."
He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."
You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.
"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."
"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.
"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."
In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.
He was definitely missing out.
There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.
"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."
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westernsunshine · 2 years
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#probably gonna delete this later if i even post it but GOD#i think one of the worst things about what happened with g (besides the fact that i felt So uncomfortable during it all & all the flashbacks#and nightmares since etc etc) is the fact that there were like 2 or 3 things he did that were really nice#and that i still think about#the goddamn neck kissing and the lip biting. like if we’d left it THERE.. oh my god. we should have left it there#also the way he put his arms around me and encouraged me to put my head on his chest after. like why was that so nice#i have never felt so relaxed in my life and for Why. mans was literally a predator and i was like ‘i think maybe i will fall asleep now’ HOW#was that some stockholm syndrome shit. was that some sort of hormone bonding me to him. what the fuck#i hate that that shit happened and i hate that i enjoyed literally any of it. i feel like a fucking joke#i hate him. So much. and i hate that i feel sorry for him#i fucking.. i checked his instagram out of sheer morbid curiosity (and also hoping his life had gone downhill)#and it turns out his best friend and his daughter died in the same month#and i don’t even know what to say about that other than it should’ve been him instead#and it feels disrespectful to those people to say that. and the whole thing is horrible#i just wish i’d never met him. i wish i’d done literally anything else that night#and i hope the next girl pepper sprays him so hard he goes blind#personal#rant
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sanguineterrain · 11 months
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it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.
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Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 10.6k
Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.
A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!
divider by firefly-graphics
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Today is hot. 
Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 
You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.
You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.
Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 
You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.
The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 
You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.
The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 
The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.
That’s never stopped you, though.
Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.
Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.
There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.
He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 
He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.
The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.
You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 
“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.
The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 
He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.
Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.
The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 
“Can you swim?” you ask.
He stares at you, blinking.
“What?” he says after a beat. 
“Can you swim?” you repeat.
“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”
"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”
His brows furrow.
“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.
“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.
“That’s good thinking.”
You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.
“How did you get here?” he asks.
“I walked.”
“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”
“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 
You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 
“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"
His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”
“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”
“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”
“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”
“My house number has a three in it,” he says.
“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.
He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 
“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.
“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”
“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”
He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”
"Who doesn't?" 
Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 
“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 
You shrug and kick at the water gently.
“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”
“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”
“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 
“Well, this isn’t her gate.”
“Yeah. I like your shorts.”
Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 
“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 
That turns his cheeks pinker. 
“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”
“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 
“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”
“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”
Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”
“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”
“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”
“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."
“Huh.”
You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 
"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."
"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."
"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 
You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 
Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.
"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.
"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"
"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."
Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 
“My dirt?”
“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."
"Out of dirt?"
"Out of worms."
"Huh."
Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 
"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 
"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."
"Like what? Secrets?"
"No, like, gel. Product."
You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”
Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."
"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."
"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."
"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."
"Will do."
"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."
A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 
"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."
"Thank you."
"Do you want some lemonade?" 
"Is it poisoned?" 
"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."
"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."
Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 
"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 
"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."
"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"
You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."
Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.
He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 
"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."
Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 
"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 
"You're welcome."
"So you, uh, know Lucas?"
"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."
You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 
"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 
"No."
"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"
"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."
Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 
"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 
"Uh-huh. A Porsche."
A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 
Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.
"Shit. Not enough sugar?"
You swallow and open your eyes. 
"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 
"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."
"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 
Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.
"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."
You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."
Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 
"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 
"Why would she pick me up?" 
"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."
"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."
Steve frowns deeply. 
"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 
It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 
"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 
You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 
"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"
"But what?" he prompts. 
"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”
Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”
“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”
Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.
“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”
“You have kids?”
“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."
You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.
"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."
"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."
Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 
“You want me to call you?” you ask.
“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”
Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.
“That’s okay.”
He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”
Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 
"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."
"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 
"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."
"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."
Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 
He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 
Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 
"Good penmanship," you say. 
"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."
"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."
"Graphologist?"
"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"
"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."
You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.
“Thank you for not poisoning me."
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 
His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 
You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.
“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.
You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.
You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.
“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”
“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”
Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 
Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 
“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.
Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 
“Yes.”
“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”
“Second time’s the charm,” you say.
“I thought it was the third time.”
“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”
Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.
“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."
You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”
“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”
“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”
He grins. “Sure thing.”
You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.
"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."
Then you go.
You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 
“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.
You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 
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Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 
There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 
Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 
From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 
You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 
Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.
Okay. Maybe you mind a little.
"Hey, neighbor!"
You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 
"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 
"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 
"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."
Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 
"Undoubtedly," you say. 
"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 
"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 
"I believe it," says Max. 
"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 
"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”
Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."
"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 
"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.
"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"
Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."
"A series of what?"
"Poems."
"Love poems are corny," she says. 
You wonder if Steve would agree. 
"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 
Max acquiesces with a hum. 
"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."
So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 
The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 
“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”
You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 
Oh. Steve.
He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 
“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”
The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”
Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 
“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.
“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.
He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”
“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 
She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 
“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”
“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.
Max shakes her head at you.
“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.
“Oh. You’re doing great."
“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 
The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.
"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 
“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.
“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”
“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.
“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.
You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 
Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 
“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”
“Oh. Okay.” 
Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 
“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.
Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.
"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."
"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 
Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 
"Robin." 
"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 
"We know," Max tells him. 
"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."
"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 
She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 
"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 
"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”
You mull that over. 
"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 
Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 
Robin snickers. Max smirks. 
"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 
"Shut—"
He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 
"Have some class, will you?" she says. 
"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 
"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 
"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 
Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.
“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 
You nod. 
“Gummy worms?” 
You tilt your head. “How did you know?”
Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”
Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.
“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”
“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”
“Are they your kids?” you ask.
Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.
“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”
“How many kids do you have?” you ask.
“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”
“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”
“I’m alright.”
You lean in. Steve blinks.
“What’re you doing?” he asks.
“You have an eyelash.” 
You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.
“You have to make a wish.”
Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.
“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”
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The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.
You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 
Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 
You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 
The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 
You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 
Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 
The phone rings. You rock on your toes.
“Hello?” Steve says.
You freeze. 
“Hellooo…?”
“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”
“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”
“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”
“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”
Relief floods you. He remembers.
“Yes. If you’re planning it.”
“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"
“I can walk.”
“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”
“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.
“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”
You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 
Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 
It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 
The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.
“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 
You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”
“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 
You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.
“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”
Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.
“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”
“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”
“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”
"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 
“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 
Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.
Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 
They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 
But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.
“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”
“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”
The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 
Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 
“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”
“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”
She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 
You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.
“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.
“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”
“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 
Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”
You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.
Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 
“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.
“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.
You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.
“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.
“What?” 
You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.
“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”
“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”
“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”
“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”
Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.
“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”
Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 
“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”
“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”
“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”
“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.
“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”
“Triple threat.”
He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.
“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”
“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”
His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.
“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.
“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”
Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 
“I’m nervous,” you confess. 
“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”
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Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 
You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.
Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 
Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 
Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 
You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 
The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 
It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 
"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"
"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."
"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 
"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"
Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.
As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 
You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 
You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 
"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.
"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"
He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 
"Anything else?"
"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."
The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."
"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 
"Buttercup?"
You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 
You wave back. Robin squeals.
"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 
"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."
"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 
“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.
“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”
"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”
"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”
Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”
"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."
"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"
"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 
The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 
"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”
"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”
“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 
Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 
"'S good," he says after he swallows.
"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 
His cheeks turn pink again. 
"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."
Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 
"Uh, thanks."
“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 
"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."
"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 
"Dude," Steve hisses. 
You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 
"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.
“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.
“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”
You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  
“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”
"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.
"By accident?" 
"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 
Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 
Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"
"They're for Joan," you say.
"Joan? Is she your friend?"
"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 
"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 
"Yes," you say. "They can be."
"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."
You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."
You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 
"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."
"Wait!"
Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.
"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."
"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."
You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 
"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 
Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."
"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."
He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 
"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."
"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 
He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 
"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 
"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 
He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 
"Thank you," you say. 
"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"
"I will."
He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 
"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 
"It wasn't awkward."
“It wasn’t?”
“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”
"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  
"Do you want another lady's kiss?"
"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."
You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 
"Your hair has product," you observe. 
"Yeah. No secrets, though."
"Everybody's hair has secrets."
"Even yours?" he asks. 
"Especially mine." 
Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 
"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 
"I like it as well as anybody else."  
"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."
"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."
"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."
"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."
Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 
"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."
"You're a very thoughtful host.”
Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 
"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 
Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."
"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 
Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."
"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"
"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."
You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."
Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 
"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."
"Bye, Steve," you say. 
"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 
Even the way he breathes is pretty.
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Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 
Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”
You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 
It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 
"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.
You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 
"But you love Brett," you'd said. 
"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."
Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 
You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 
You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 
Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 
A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 
Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 
"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"
"No one here wants to talk," you say. 
Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"
The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 
You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 
Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 
You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 
There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 
You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 
You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 
You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 
"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 
"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."
Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."
She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 
"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"
Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 
"Debbie would've told me," you say. 
The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 
Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 
"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.
Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 
You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 
"Hello?" 
You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 
"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 
"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 
"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  
"I'm sorry," you say. 
"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 
"Debbie ditched me."
Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.
"Steve?"
"Where are you?" 
"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"
"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."
Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."
"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 
"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 
"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 
You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 
You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 
You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 
"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"
His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 
"My knight," you say. 
"I thought Westley was a pirate."
“He was only pretending." 
You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.
"Ow," you say dazedly. 
"What? What hurts?"
"Keys."
"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 
"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."
"I love that you know that." 
"Do you really?" 
"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 
Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 
"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 
"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."
"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"
The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 
"Whoa, what's—"
"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"
"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."
You still. "Promise?"
"I promise."
He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.
"Comfy?" he asks. 
"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."
It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 
"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."
"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."
"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."
If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 
But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 
So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.
"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 
You turn your head. "Hmm?"
"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"
"Without a doubt."
Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 
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"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 
There's no reply. You close the door behind you.
Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.
You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 
Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 
“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 
"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 
You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.
A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 
"Is this yours?"
"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"
He grimaces. "Unfortunately."
"Cool."
You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 
"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 
"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 
"Making every man mad." 
Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 
"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."
"You invited me," you say. 
"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."
"You play good music."
"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."
"She's obviously biased." 
"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"
Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 
"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"
"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 
Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"
"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 
"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"
You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."
"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."
"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 
Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."
"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."
Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 
"I like Kashmir."
"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."
"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."
Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."
"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 
"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 
"Sick," Eddie says.
You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."
"I like it," Robin says. 
"Thank you."
Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 
Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."
"That's a rock," says Steve. 
"Yep."
"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"
"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."
"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"
"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."
You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 
"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."
Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.
"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."
"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"
Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 
"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 
"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"
Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."
Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."
"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."
Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"
"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 
"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 
"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 
Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 
"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."
"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"
Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 
You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 
Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.
"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 
You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 
The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.
“Here, take my seat,” he says.
“We can share,” you offer.
Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 
“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.
“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”
“It’s spectacular.”
He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”
“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”
Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”
“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.
He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”
“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”
“Doritos!” Robin shouts.
“Napkins, please,” El says.
“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.
“Beer!” Eddie whoops.
“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”
“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”
“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”
“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”
Steve sighs, lifting his arms.
“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”
“I can help,” you offer.
“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”
Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.
“That’d be great, thank you.”
You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.
“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”
You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.
"Whoa, whoa.”
Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 
"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."
You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."
"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.
"I knew you’d best me and succeed."
"Best you?" 
"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."
Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 
"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"
"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."
"I would never try to sword fight you." 
"I appreciate that."
His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.
“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”
You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 
“Buttercup?” 
You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 
Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.
“Yes, Westley?”
Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 
“Everything okay?” he asks.
He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”
“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”
Steve’s eyes widen. 
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”
“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”
He nods, encouraging you to continue.
“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 
“I know.”
“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”
“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.
“Oh.”
You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.
“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”
“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 
He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
“I would very much like that.”
Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.
You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 
It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.
The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 
Dustin shrieks. 
“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”
“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 
“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”
They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.
“Again, very sorry about them.”
“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.
Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”
You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 
“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”
“Three popsicles?”
“Mmhm.”
“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”
“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”
1K notes · View notes
smileysuh · 1 year
Text
ice cold, cabin fever - part 1
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🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."
cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k
🍭 aus. e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...
☀️ mlist + an. so when I tell you I know practically nothing about skiing... also, the recent soop episodes have been giving gyucheol and jihan and I'm dying. I other inspo: 🙂 🙂 🙂 I pls note. this fic has so much dialogue, it exceeds the number of paragraphs allowed in a tumblr post, so it will be split into 2 parts posted at the same time I read the whole thing in one post + the bonus by subscribing to my patreon and clicking here
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Prologue: 
“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Jeonghan says as he enters the main area of the flat he shares with his brother and two best friends.
Three sets of eyes turn to him, and it’s Joshua who takes a shot in the dark and asks, “Did you get chlamydia again?”
“Aish, fuck off,” Jeonghan picks up a pillow to launch at his brother, “I just got off the phone with mom you idiot.”
“Ouch, since when are you telling mommy about your STI results?” Seungcheol teases, earning himself a pillow as well, that he easily bats out of the air.
“Tell us,” Mingyu urges seriously, “what did your mom say?”
“Only that our new step-sister decided to join us for the destination wedding, super last minute,” Jeonghan explains, taking a seat next to the youngest and sweetest of his friends.
“Did your mom tell her that they already gave up the cabin?” Seungcheol’s heart drops to his stomach, thoughts of powdered snow and skiing swirling on the periphery of his mind.
“Fuck if I know,” Jeonghan shrugs. “She sounds like a bit of a bitch if I’m being honest- sorry Gyu, but it looks like you’ll be giving up your bed.”
“We’re sharing a cabin with her?” The maknae’s jaw drops.
“Well she’s definitely not staying with us,” Joshua stiffens in his seat, “I don’t know what weird step-sibling porn you’re into Gyu, but we’re not that kind of family.”
“Listen,” Seungcheol leans forward, eager to keep the peace, “none of us have met her before- but your mom really likes her dad- let’s just hope she’s as nice as he is… I really doubt she’s a bitch. If it comes down to it, I can give up my bed, there’s a pullout in the cabin too, right? We’ll make it work.”
The glances all four men exchange betray how unsure they all are, and Seungcheol only wishes he was as positive as he makes himself out to be. 
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1: Thursday - Arrival
“Y/n! You made it!” your dad’s excitement should be contagious, but as you haul your suitcase into the lobby of the ski resort, you’re much too exhausted to mirror his attitude.
In fact, you’d bet you look exactly how you feel; done with this vacation before it’s even started.
Despite this, you accept the hug from your dad, trying to relax a little before he lets you go again. “Was your flight very long?”
“Too long,” you sigh, taking a deep breath before returning his question with “and you?”
“Too long,” your dad laughs. “But you can rest easy now, the hard part is over.”
Is it? 
“I’m so excited for you to meet Suelki,” he continues, “and her two sons.” 
“I’m excited too,” you really force a smile this time, trying your best to look sincere.
“Good,” your dad nods, beginning to lead you through the resort. “So listen, this trip is kind of like my honeymoon- so we really don’t expect to be seeing that much of you- Suelki and I have a suite in the actual hotel itself, but I think I mentioned to you over the phone that we booked two of the rustic cabins-”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” your grip on your suitcase handle tightens.
“Because you originally said you wouldn’t be coming, we gave the second cabin up to Suelki’s boys’ roommates- and unfortunately, the entire resort is booked up this week, so we couldn’t get you your own room.”
“Right-” He’d mentioned something along these lines during your quick phonecall when you’d changed your mind about coming on the trip, and you’re eager to see what fix he has for this.
“Each cabin had a pullout though, so you’ll be staying in one of them, and whether it’s with Suelki’s boys’ or their friends, I really hope you use this trip to get to know your new step brothers.”
Your mouth feels dry, heart jittering in your chest at the concept of sharing a cabin for a week with two boys- 
“The wedding is on Saturday,” your dad and you have reached a door leading outside; icy air hits your face when he opens it. “And the cabins you’re looking for are the last two down this road here- cabin 6 and cabin 7. Just follow the string lights-”
“Are you-” you swallow. “You’re not going to take me out to where I’m staying?” You tighten your grip on your heavy luggage, eying the snowy path.
“Sorry darling, but your plane was late, and you’ve arrived at a bad time- Suelki and I have massages scheduled in-” he checks his watch, “ten minutes? I really have to go- but you’re a strong, capable girl, you’ll find the cabins no problem.”
This is exactly the type of behaviour from your father that you’re used to. 
Part of you had expected something to be different- you’d been hoping that the wedding jitters would make him more inclined to be compassionate to you- but it looks like he’s as intent on letting you go about it yourself as he’s ever been.
After your long flight, and now this- you’re really questioning if you should have come on this trip at all.
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2: Thursday - Arrival
“Joshie, come look at this,” Jeonghan urges, holding his tea tighter while gazing out the small cabin window.
“What is it?” his brother sighs, putting down his book but remaining seated on the couch.
“Some girl is dragging her suitcase up the path.” 
He can’t help but snicker. With the road covered in snow for the winter season, accessing the cabins isn’t the easiest task in the world. 
Having been here before, the brothers had packed accordingly, and carrying their duffles had been substantially easier than the struggle Jeonghan is currently witnessing. 
“Oh shit.”
“What?” Now Joshua stands up.
“She’s coming to the door- shit-” Jeonghan pulls away from the window roughly, and hot liquid spills over the edge of his mug, making contact with his fingers. “Shit!” he shakes his hand out-
“Must be the step sister?” Joshua suggests, ignoring the elder man tending to his reddening skin. 
“Must be,” Jeonghan hisses, putting his tea down just as there’s a knock on the door.
The elder of the two takes a seat on the couch, pulling his hoodie sleeve down to cover his hand while Joshua answers the door. 
“Hi-” your voice carries into the small space, and Jeonghan silently urges Joshua to move to the side so he can get a better look at you. “Are you Jeonghan?”
“No, Joshua,” he shifts, allowing you to see into the cabin, “that’s Jeonghan.”
Jeonghan lifts his unharmed hand, wiggling his fingers at you and offering a smile. 
His eyes quickly take you in, assessing your cute outfit- and its lack of weather appropriateness. He finds himself stifling a laugh again, shaking his head to snap himself out of it before saying loudly, “Aren’t you going to let our new step-sister in?”
You look like a bunny entering a wolf’s den, and you stop just past the threshold, allowing the door to be closed behind you.
“I guess you guys know about the cabin situation?” Your first words aren’t something Jeonghan had particularly expected from you-
You’re much more forward than your appearance gives you credit for, and he begins to wonder if his little bunny has teeth. 
“Cabin situation?” Joshua comes to join Jeonghan on the couch, reaching for his book.
“Yeah-” you swallow, “I heard my cabin got given up to two of your friends?”
“Right, that cabin situation,” Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances, and they leave space for you to continue.
“I was thinking,” you shift awkwardly on your feet, a chunk of snow shifts off your boot and onto the wood floor, “uh- you guys aren’t really going to make me share a cabin with two of your friends, right?” 
“What do you mean?” Joshua cocks his head, and Jeonghan leans back in his seat, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him.
“Just that-” you release a deep sigh. “Guys- I’m going to be honest, I’m really tired- is there no possible way one or even both of your friends could- I don’t know… crash in this cabin with you guys?”-  there’s a beat of silence, Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances - “like, that’s a pullout couch, right? So- at least one could stay here-”
Joshua opens his mouth to respond, but Jeonghan places a hand on his knee to silence him, taking the lead in these new family negotiations; “You might be able to convince one of them to stay here,” he tells you, “but I doubt you’d be more comfortable alone with a strange man you’ve never met, than you would be having two.”
“I mean…” you look between your new step-siblings, “these guys are your friends, right? It’s not like they’re going to- erm… try anything?”
“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods sympathetically, “let’s go over there and you can see which one you prefer to spend a week alone with.”
You shift again, releasing a groan. “I know we just met- but I’ve gotta say, you’re a bit of an asshole, you know that?”
Jeonghan laughs.
“He’s right though,” Joshua sighs. “As unfortunate as it is that your cabin got given up, there’s no chance both of our friends are going to give up their beds to sleep on a pullout in here with us.” He stands up. “I saw you were struggling with your bag earlier- I’ll carry it for you, we can go to the next cabin over and discuss the situation with Cheol and Mingyu-”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” you open the door, holding your suitcase tightly, “I’m a big girl, I’ll handle this myself.”
The new brothers watch you leave the cabin, and then Joshua heads to the window, eyes following you as you trudge down the path back to the main road again. 
“Is she still struggling?” Jeonghan asks.
Joshua lets out something between a laugh and a sigh, then he nods. “She’s really struggling.”
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3: Thursday - Arrival
“Is that your stomach growling?” Cheol groans, distracted from the Christmas film he’s watching for what must be the third time-
“I’m sorry-” Mingyu whines, hand rubbing his tummy in slow circles, “you know how I get when we go skiing-”
“Then eat more at dinner next time,” the elder man snaps, grabbing the remote to turn the sound up in the hopes it will drown out his friend’s stomach, “and make some ramen or something.”
“I’m too lazy, I can’t get up,” the large man sprawled on the couch groans, his voice switching to something more on the girly side when he says “oppa, make me ramen? We can have Netflix and ramen?”
“Aish-” Seungcheol reaches out to bat his friend’s foot.
Mingyu is the baby of their apartment back home, and all three of the men born in 95 try not to make a habit of indulging him in maknae privileges. In fact, Mingyu often ends up being the one who cooks and cleans, but Seungcheol will never admit that to anyone.
“Stop complaining and watch your movie,” Seungcheol urges, eyes returning to the screen, where Jim Carrey’s Grinch is having a similar meltdown to Mingyu’s.
A knock at the door stuns both men, their heads whipping towards the sound- then Mingyu is jumping off the couch, as if he wasn’t just claiming to be a lazy bum less than a minute ago. 
“Who is it?” Cheol groans, leaning back against the pillows, stretching his tired arms out in front of him. 
He’s never going to get through this movie if there keeps being distractions-
“Shh- it’s a girl-” Mingyu’s whispered response is another shock to Cheol’s system, and he suddenly finds himself sitting up in his seat.
“Well, answer the door!” he whispers back.
Mingyu follows through with the command, and a moment later he’s greeting you with a “Hello?”
“Uh, hi? Are you… Cheol?” 
“No,” Mingyu steps to the side, “he is.”
Seungcheol blinks at you, taking you in.
He’s definitely never met you before, so how is it you know his name- 
How is it you know the name that only his friends use?
“Then that makes you… Mingyu?” 
You’re not even looking at Seungcheol anymore, your eyes have slipped over him and returned to the large man in front of you faster than Cheol can even clock-
“That’s right,” Mingyu nods, then, “wait! You must be the step-sister!”
“That’s me,” you sigh. “The step-sister.”
“Come in,” Mingyu urges you, “and let me take your bag, I bet you’re tired from your flight-”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes, setting the remote down. It’s unlikely he’ll be returning to the movie anytime soon, and he supposes he should be friendly with you- despite his exhaustion from a long day on the slopes.
“Did you drag your suitcase all the way through the snow?” Mingyu asks, blatantly bewildered at your behavior. 
“Uh huh,” you nod, closing the door behind you and reaching down to take off your boots.
“No one helped you?” Mingyu’s tone makes the whole thing seem like blasphemy, and Cheol watches the way he fusses over you, setting your bag at the foot of his bed before rushing to help you take off your jacket-
“No one,” you confirm. “Joshua offered, but- I managed by myself, like always.”
“So you stopped at the other cabin first?” Seungcheol confirms, “Met Hannie and Josh-”
Your eyes meet, and then Seungcheol finds himself looking at your lips-
“Yeah,” you tear your gaze away, turning to Mingyu when you explain, “wanted to talk with them about bed arrangements first-”
“You can have mine,” Mingyu offers, flashing you an earnest smile.
“Really?” your eyes widen, and you look between the two men again. “You’re not uh… too big for it?”
Seungcheol feels like he’s been hit in the chest. 
If you’d had asked your question without looking directly at him, he might have been able to convince himself you weren’t insinuating anything- but it’s clear what you’re saying. It’s clear you’re clocking him as being smaller than his younger friend, clear you’re inadvertantly suggesting that as the shorter man - Cheol - should sleep on the couch.
A month ago, Cheol had suggested the very same thing, thinking you’d be some nice girl he could give his bed to.
But now? 
He wouldn’t give you his bed if your life depended on it. 
“It’s okay,” Mingyu is quick to assure you, “you can have my bed. Here, have a seat, we’re watching a Christmas movie-  did your flight serve you dinner? Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” you sigh, collapsing onto the couch, taking the corner Mingyu had inhabited earlier. 
“I’ll make us some ramen,” Mingyu tells you. “Ramen always goes well with Christmas movies.”
Seungcheol notes the way you smile at Mingyu’s words. 
He feels invisible, and most of all, bitter. He’s not happy about any of this, not the way you’d taken a hit at his pride, nor Mingyu’s new burst of energy and overly friendly demeanor.
Picking up the remote again, Seungcheol hits play, and he hopes nothing else sets him off tonight, or he just might explode.
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4: Friday - morning
Waking up is slow at first, and then it hits you all at once. You sit up, clutching the quilt to cover your body while blinking away the last of your drowsiness, eyes acclimatizing to the soft glow of the room.
Sunlight is coming through the cabin shades, and you realize two things very quickly. First, that you’re alone, and second, that you’re not where you’d fallen asleep last night.
After settling in and eating your ramen, you’d gotten comfortable on the couch. The movie hadn’t truly captured your interest, and you’d begun to doze off with the intention of waking up when the film was complete to move to the bed- 
But you have no recollection of being woken up.
You hadn’t even had any dreams. You’d been so exhausted from a day of traveling that you’d blacked out, and now, you’re left with confusion and body aches.
Someone must have carried you to bed- 
You hope it was Mingyu.
When you look down, you see you’re still dressed in your travel outfit, so the first thing you decide to do is explore the small cabin and find the shower.
Part of you is grateful the men you’re rooming with allowed you to sleep. It makes finding a routine easier. You take your time in the shower, allowing yourself to relax a little, and you consider what your day might look like.
You guess the men are on the slopes, as the skis that had been propped next to the door when you’d arrived are gone, and you decide exercise might be exactly what you need.
Besides, you’re at a ski resort, skiing seems like an obvious choice- although you’re not quite sure how it will work, seeing as you haven’t brought your own equipment-
You begin looking around the cabin for a resort map- and you’re so busy looking in all the hard places you almost miss the glaringly obvious piece of paper resting on the coffee table under a set of keys. 
Your heart lurches in your chest. You pocket the keys and open the paper to find it’s the resort pamphlet you’ve been searching for. 
Along with a map of the mountain, someone has taken the time to circle cabin 7, draw a line to the main hotel, and circled another section, which has been labeled ‘ski rentals’ in handwriting that’s just barely legible. 
There’s no other writing to indicate which man has left this for you, so you decide to assume it’s Mingyu.
Cheol had barely talked to you last night. He’d given off cold vibes; a man with walls built up around him. 
You truly can’t imagine that the quiet, brooding man had stopped to write on a map and leave you keys.
And honestly? You don’t want to imagine it.
It’s much safer to identify one of your roommates as a tall, white knight, and the other as a dark entity you’ll have to suffer through for a week. 
It makes it easier to plan on ignoring Cheol. 
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5: Friday - afternoon
Today is a good day for Seungcheol. 
He’d been worried that your arrival would mean babysitting duty, so when you’d slept in and he’d convinced Gyu to leave you be, he’d been nearly ecstatic. 
He’d clocked you as a non-skier the moment you’d arrived without the correct equipment, and despite his day job as a physical trainer, Cheol is not in the mood to be teaching anyone how to do anything.
No, he’s much happier taking the slopes with his best friend. 
Mingyu isn’t as adept with skis as Cheol is, but he’s good enough for the elder not to worry too much about him. 
After tackling a few of the harder slopes, the two men find themselves on a green run. 
It’s enjoyable to take the hill in an easy manner, crisscrossing down the incline, watching the powder fluff up and take air with each harsh turn-
The day is gorgeous-
And then Cheol spots you, and his mood drops instantly.
You’re a couple hundred feet down the mountain from he and Mingyu, and they both stop for a moment, battling the glare from the sun-
“Is that-”
“Y/n,” Seungcheol confirms with a sigh. “First the thing with her bags, now this- it’s like she’s never been to a ski resort before.”
“Maybe she hasn’t,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful for a moment. “We should go help her.”
Seungcheol scoffs. “You really think she wants our help?”
“It never hurts to offer,” the younger, more considerate man points out. “Besides, this is Jeonghan and Joshua’s new step-sister, we’re trying to be nice to her, right?”
With a sigh, Seungcheol agrees, and the two continue down the mountain, catching up to you easily. 
“Hello!” Mingyu calls out to you, in classic extroverted Mingyu fashion. This earns him a smile from you, and you stop your slow slope descent to chat.
“Hi Mingyu,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face and adjusting your hat.
You don’t say hello to Seungcheol, and he doesn’t greet you either.
“How’s your day going so far?” Mingyu asks. “Are you enjoying the fresh air?”
“Yeah- found some skis at the rental and I think I’m getting the hang of it,” you tell them, “wasn’t sure I’d be skiing much this trip but, well, here I am.”
“You slept in,” Seungcheol finds himself stating. “We weren’t sure we’d bump into you today.”
“Right…” you trail off, giving Seungcheol a quick once over before your eyes return to Mingyu, and an easy smile works its way across your face again, “Have you been skiing long? I mean, I get the feeling that I’m the only person on the trip who doesn’t have much experience with all of this- you guys all brought your own skis.”
“Yeah, we’re all big snow sports people,” Mingyu tells you. “Seungcheol was actually almost an olympic level snowboarder-”
“Really?” Now you’re looking at Seungcheol. Truly looking at him. “But… you brought skis?”
“He’d be much too fast on his board,” Mingyu grins. “Skis slow him down, make him level with the rest of us. But, he’s still pretty good at skiing too.”
“Could give you a few pointers if you want,” Seungcheol says, earnestly. 
He’d gotten a good look at what you were doing wrong before they approached you, and a few minor tweaks would have you skiing with the best of them-
“Erm, thanks, but no thanks, I think I’m good learning at my own pace for now.” 
He notes the way you avert your eyes, upper lip curling slightly with disdain. 
He should have never bothered to offer you help. 
Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “You two are probably more compatible for your level, and I want to do some harder runs. I’ll see you around.”
And with that, he leaves you and Mingyu, taking off down the mountain at a speed his friends can only dream of.
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6: Friday - evening
It’s been a good day for Mingyu, and settling in for dinner with his friends is the perfect ending for it. They order half the menu, covering the table in all sorts of foods to try together, and it reminds him of their time in university. 
While Mingyu is younger than his friends, he’d entered their frat before they’d graduated, and the bond he has with his older hyungs is truly one born out of a shared love for food. 
“Try this,” Jeonghan insists, and Mingyu opens his mouth before he even gets a good look at what’s about to be fed to him. “It’s good right?”
Mingyu can only nod happily while munching, hand reaching for his beer.
“Where were you guys today?” Joshua asks, “we missed you on the slopes.”
“Did a couple of the harder ones,” Seungcheol responds while the maknae has his mouth full, “then bumped into your step-sister on the easier hill-”
“Oh?” This grabs both Jeonghan and Joshua’s attention. “She was skiing?”
“Badly,” Cheol leans back in his chair, sipping his beer.
“She wasn’t that bad,” Mingyu insists, swallowing his food so he can defend you. “I did a couple runs with her and she wasn’t that bad, really.”
The brothers exchange a glance that Mingyu can’t read. 
He’s always been jealous of how in tune Jeonghan and Joshua are. As ‘irish twins’ - siblings born within the same year - it’s like they can read each other’s minds, and Mingyu always feels like he’s missing some crucial part of the conversation.
“Did you guys sort out the bed situation?” Joshua asks, looking down at the steak he’s cutting. He gives off an air of nonchalance, but Mingyu can tell that this is a topic both brothers are interested in. 
“I think you mentioned giving up your bed when we talked about it a few months ago,” Jeonghan adds, “isn’t that right, Cheol?”
“That was before I met her.”
The brothers exchange a glance, and a smirk works its way onto Jeonghan’s face. “Looks like Gyu got the short end of the straw, huh?”
“I offered her my bed,” Mingyu insists. 
“But she fell asleep on the couch during our Christmas movie,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “I moved her to his bed, wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy.”
“My neck is aching,” Mingyu groans, rubbing at it, “but it was worth it. I told her she could have my bed, so she had my bed.”
“He’s so eager to help her out,” Cheol teases, pushing at Mingyu’s shoulder. “When we saw her on the mountain earlier, she refused my help, but was more than happy to ski with him.”
Joshua and Jeonghan exchange a glance that has Mingyu rushing to assure them, “she’s your new step sister- I’m not trying anything, I just want to be friendly-”
“What was that?” Cheol leans closer, “I don’t think I heard you?”
“I said,” Mingyu raises his voice, “she’s their stepsister, and I’m not trying anything!” 
“Perfect, that’s exactly what I thought I heard,” Seungcheol grins, and then he’s looking at something over Mingyu’s shoulder. “Hey Y/N, you should join these three for dinner.”
“Uh…” 
Mingyu turns to find you standing there, and his skin heats with embarrassment. 
He’s pretty sure you’d just heard what he’d loudly said to his friends, and his skin tingles with regret, ears heating-
“Really,” Seungcheol stands, “take my seat, I was just leaving.”
“Where are you headed?” Jeonghan asks, more curious about his friend than his own step-sister.
“The pool.” Cheol grabs the jacket on the back of his chair. “Have some knots in my back, but nothing the hot tub jets can’t fix.”
For the second time today, Mingyu finds himself watching Cheol make a hasty retreat in order to avoid spending time with you. And for the second time today, Mingyu finds himself eagerly attempting to help you fit in, despite his oldest friend’s rejection of you.
“Come eat,” Mingyu urges, patting the newly empty seat next to him. 
“Are you guys sure? I can always eat alone-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joshua laughs. “You’re one of us now, come sit.”
Mingyu is glad that your step brothers immediately start asking you questions, and for a little while, everything runs smoothly. 
Every minute he spends with you, he warms up more and more to your presence.
It’s obvious to him that yesterday, when you’d arrived, you’d been out of sorts after hours of traveling. Your temperament has improved drastically, and Mingyu finds himself laughing along with his friends at small jokes you make here and there.
The four of you spend a much longer time in the resort restaurant than Mingyu had expected, and it’s only when Jeonghan begins to yawn that you all decide it’s time to head back to your cabins.
The night is cold, but it’s not snowing, and your small group follows the poles of string lights diligently.
Jeonghan and Joshua pull off one stop earlier than your own, wishing you goodnight before heading into their cabin.
As you and Mingyu continue up the path, Mingyu finds you walking closer to him, and he’s surprised when you say “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Carrying me to bed last night,” you respond, “and the map you left on the coffee table, the one with the ski rental circled.”
“Oh, uh…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “that actually wasn’t me. I think it’s Cheol who you have to be thanking.”
“Oh…” 
‘Oh’ is right.
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7: Saturday - morning
When you wake up, you’re struck by two things. First, that you’re alone, as you were when you woke up yesterday. And second, that your father is getting married.
Your body aches when you sit up, muscles screaming at you for having the audacity to ski as long as you had with Mingyu, and you decide pretty quick that another attempt at the slopes is off the table.
You remember what Seungcheol had said yesterday, about the pool and the hott ub, and decide maybe he had the right idea about jets and sore muscles.
He can be an ass, but you suppose he uses his brain sometimes.
You change into your swimsuit, and make sure to layer yourself with comfy sweats and your parka, pool bag in hand before you set out to take on the weather. 
For the billionth time since arriving at this God forsaken cabin, you wish you’d gotten a room in the resort itself. It’s snowed over the night, but the path is somewhat cleared. Even so, the trek to the main hotel is difficult, and your muscles are even more tired when you arrive.
The resort is a ski destination, and you cross your fingers that most of its patrons are on the hills and not utilizing the various pools and saunas. 
Your wish comes true, and you’re pleased to see hardly anyone as you pass through the indoor pool to check out the outdoor areas, intent on having a hot tub to yourself-
As you’re walking along the pool deck, clutching your parka tight around your body, you notice someone swimming. 
He’s underwater, slicing through the pool like a professional swimmer. The glare from the overcast sky makes it impossible to get a great look at the athlete and you settle next to the hot tub, hoping to see more when he comes up for air. 
You’ve just taken off your parka and are wading into the hot tub when the swimmer stops at the edge of the pool. He’s in the shallows now, and he’s able to stand up, his back to you.
Droplets of water glisten down his back in the light, steam immediately beginning to lift off of his skin-
His shoulders and back look like they were crafted by the Gods, and the man runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out of his face.
You just wish he would turn to look at you, so you can see who you’re drooling over-
In no time at all, this wish is coming true, only, you wish it hadn’t, because the moment the gorgeous, well-muscled athlete turns to look at you, you’re locking eyes with your least favourite person on the mountain.
Seungcheol is as taken aback as you are for a moment.
He’d been reaching for the rail to pull himself out of the pool, but now, he’s simply frozen.
You’re practically gawking at each other, and you’re the first to break eye contact, clearing your throat and looking away.
You can feel your skin heating, and it’s not just from the hot tub, which you wish you could simply submerge yourself in and never come back up-
In the periphery of your vision, you see Seungcheol getting out of the pool, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your entire body not to turn and watch him.
Then, to your surprise, he gives you an excuse to look at him, calling out, “The wedding starts at four, don’t be late.”
Your jaw hits the hottub floor, and you watch Seungcheol practically run away from you.
It’s becoming an all too familiar sight. 
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8: Saturday - afternoon
Sitting in his mother’s hotel room, watching her do the final touches on her wedding look, Joshua is struck with memories of the past.
There’d been many mornings growing up where he’d sat on the closed-lid toilet, watching her brush through her hair, sometimes braiding it, before taking him and Jeonghan to school.
In the quiet of their small apartment bathroom, nothing could come between them, not Jeonghan whining for whatever reason, nor the angry father who’d disappeared from the picture when the boys had turned ten.
To Joshua, the moment feels like peace, or at least, as close to it as he’s ever come.
He can tell, by the way his mom smiles when she looks at herself in the mirror, that she’s truly happy, and it’s all he’s ever wanted for her. 
The moment is fleeting, as Jeonghan enters the room and brings with him a certain level of chaos, the kind of windswept mayhem that follows him everywhere, like a moving storm.
“Booze?” The first word to come out of his mouth.
“In the fridge,” Joshua motions to the small cooler before asking his elder brother, “drinking already?”
“Just spent half an hour running all over and making sure everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to be doing,” Jeonghan sighs, bending down to retrieve a can of beer, cracking it open with nimble fingers.
“You wanted to be the best man,” Joshua points out.
For such a small wedding, consisting of only close family and a few friends, roles hadn’t been a necessity, but Joshua wasn’t aware that scrambling around to make sure people are in place would be necessary either.
“Y/N forgot her shoes at the cabin, so Mingyu ran to get them, but by the time he got there, Seungcheol had apparently realized the heels were needed, so he’d grabbed them- and somehow they’d missed each other in the lobby-” Jeonghan cuts off his own ramblings with a large sip of his drink. 
“Sounds like quite the goose chase,” their mother’s calm voice visibly settles the best man, who takes a seat next to his brother.
“You look amazing,” Jeonghan tells her, as sincere as Joshua’s ever seen him. “Our new step-sister’s dad is a lucky man.”
“Since when did you stop calling him by his name?” Seulki laughs, returning her gaze to the mirror, fixing her veil. “Looks like you’re both getting used to Y/N though, Joshua mentioned that you all had dinner last night. Is she settling in okay?”
“I think so,” Joshua says thoughtfully.
“Mingyu really likes her,” Jeonghan adds.
Joshua nods. “And we do too.”
Their mom gives them a knowing look. “How’s Seungcheol finding his cabinmate? Haven’t you both always said he’s a good judge of character?”
“He’s also a stubborn ass,” Jeonghan grins over the rim of his drink, “so we can’t really trust his opinions on her- besides, any time she’s around, he runs the other way. I doubt they’ve talked much.”
“That’s a shame,” Seulki frowns. “I bumped into her with Mingyu on the slopes yesterday, she seemed really lovely.”
“She is,” Joshua admits. He’d also enjoyed getting to know you last night over food and drinks.
“Well,” Seulki turns to her boys, “let’s just hope Seungcheol warms up to her, but we’ll put that to the side for now, we have a wedding to get to.”
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9: Saturday - evening
The ceremony had gone exactly as planned. 
After the initial goose chase looking for your shoes, there’d only been one or two small details Jeonghan had been forced to attend to. But after it all, his mom had walked down the aisle, vows had been said, and Jeonghan had gained a father figure.
Standing at the alter next to his brother, Jeonghan had watched everything take place with a keen eye.
He’d been pleased to see the three couples invited - his aunt and uncle, and two of your father’s friends with their wives - sitting in the small venue with his roommates. And he’d been even more interested in watching his friends react throughout the service.
Mingyu had gotten teary-eyed the moment Seulki had begun her walk down the aisle, and even Seungcheol had torn his gaze from you for long enough to admire the dress.
When everything was said and done, the small party had moved to a secluded room off the main restaurant to have food, drinks and further celebration. Here, Jeonghan had again noticed Seungcheol’s affinity for having you in his line of sight.
“You know,” Jeonghan says, as he settles into the seat next to his brother, eyes fixed on his muscular friend by the small bar, “for a guy who runs away whenever y/n is around, he spends an awful lot of his time watching our step sister.”
Joshua chuckles, sipping his champagne. “You noticed that too, huh?”
“Hard not to,” Jeonghan grins, following Seungcheol’s gaze to where you’re clinging to Mingyu on the makeshift dance floor. “What do you think about those two?”
“I think Cheol better cut his losses now,” Joshua says, setting his drink down. 
“Really?” Jeonghan cocks his head, considering it all. “We’re only two days into this trip… a lot could happen before the week is done, don’t you think?”
“A lot could happen,” Joshua admits, “especially if someone like you decided to meddle.”
“I never meddle, only… help push things along.”
“In the direction you want it to go.”
“Touche,” Jeonghan lifts his champagne, gently clinking it against his brother’s discarded glass. 
“I think I’m going to go ask y/n to dance,” Joshua says, pushing his chair back and standing.
“Now who’s meddling?” Jeonghan laughs.
“Still only you.”
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10: Sunday - morning
The couch had been uncomfortable on a normal night, so Mingyu supposes it’s his own fault that he wakes up aching after a night of drinking and dancing at the wedding.
Stretching his arms over his head, he tries to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders, but he’s unable to get comfortable again.
He lays there for a few minutes, watching you dance in your cute bridesmaid dress on the back of his eyelids. He’s not sure if it’s you, the dress, or the visual combined, but he knows he’s going to remember last night for many years to come.
When he finally sits up, Mingyu looks towards your bed, and he’s not shocked to find you still sleeping. This is the third day waking up in the same room as you, and Mingyu’s becoming accustomed to the fact that you sleep in longer than he does.
He’s becoming accustomed to your cute, unsuspecting, resting face.
It makes sleeping on the couch worth it, and his sore muscles are almost forgotten- until he has to stand up, and they scream at him again.
Cheol is sitting up in his bed, scrolling through his phone, and he looks up when Mingyu stretches his arms above his head to release his shoulder tension.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Cheol mouths at him.
The two have been scared to even whisper in the mornings - scared to wake you up - and have adopted this silent way of communicating. Mingyu nods quickly, pointing back at his hyung as if to say ‘and you?’
Another quick nod, plus a thumbs up, then Cheol makes the motion of a man shoveling food into his mouth and points to the door.
Mingyu holds up his hand, ‘give me five minutes’ and slowly begins to tiptoe to the bathroom, where he can have some water, fix his hair, and change into better clothes. 
It’s a routine they’ve gotten used to, and for the third day in a row, Mingyu prays that when he exits the bathroom, by some miracle, you’ll be awake and eager to join them in the resort restaurant for breakfast.
Mingyu and Seungcheol - quite predictably - end up weathering the early morning elements without you, and it’s on the snowy path that Mingyu tells Cheol “I think I’m going to skip skiing today.”
“Really?” Seungcheol’s shock is written all over his face.
Mingyu nods. “I feel bad that we’re always ditching y/n- and we mostly go on the slopes she can’t ski on, so… I figured, after breakfast, I'd stay behind at the cabin and wait till she wakes up, then see what she wants to do today.”
There’s a long pause, and then Seungcheol sighs. “I see how it is.”
“Hmm?”
“You also walked her home last night after the dinner. Hannie, Joshie and I stayed up drinking, you usually join, but instead, you walked y/n home.”
“We were both tired,” Mingyu defends himself. “Watched a bit of a movie, then fell asleep.”
“Is that all that happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… part of me wondered if I should have stayed on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch last night, to give you privacy.”
Mingyu’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he fumbles with the hood of his parka. “We didn’t- we aren’t-”
“You guys danced a lot last night, then you walked her home… if it’s not like that then… well, people might get the wrong idea.”
“Who’s people?” Mingyu nearly laughs. “It’s just us here- you think anyone really cared last night?”
“I guess not.” There’s a pause, then Seungcheol changes the topic, asking, “What do you think you’ll have for breakfast today?”
It’s then that Mingyu realizes, someone did care last night, and that someone, is Cheol. 
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11: Sunday - afternoon
You’d been a little shocked to find Mingyu reading on the couch when you’d woken up from your long sleep, but when he’d explained to you that he’d stayed behind from skiing with friends to make sure you had a proper buddy for the day, your heart had melted.
After a slow start, the two of you had decided to rent some snow shoes and use the back slope trails, which is how you end up climbing one of the smaller mountains together.
“We’re almost at the top,” Mingyu tells you, pulling out the trail map provided by the resort. You try to catch your breath while he points to a spot on the paper. “I think we’re about here, so just-” he drags his finger up the green line, “this far to the top.”
“Are you sure?” you laugh, grasping onto his arm to pull yourself closer so you can get a good look at the map.
There’s a pause, then he shakes his head, “No. We could also be sort of lost.” 
“Don’t say that-” you grin, pushing at him, “you’ve been mostly using this map alright- I trust you, and your trail-following capabilities.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t though,” Mingyu insists. “Honestly, following maps is definitely Cheol’s thing. One time, we were on a road trip, and we were going down this road for half an hour before we had to pull over and he got to look at the map- we’d missed a turn and it set us back like two hours-”
“It’s easier to miss a highway turn than a trailhead,” you assure him. “Come on, we said we’d climb this small mountain, and then we can take the lift back down and finish our movie from last night at the cabin- just think about our nice, warm cabin-”
“Nice, warm cabin,” Mingyu nods, folding the map back up to put in the pocket of his parka. “Let’s go, we can do this.”
You watch the large, beautiful man pull away from you and continue your trajectory up, and you can’t help but smile, echoing the sentiment, “we can do this.” 
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12: Sunday - evening
Seungcheol had been surprised to find the cabin empty after skiing, and he’d been even more surprised when he went to the restaurant to find you and Mingyu not there either. 
However, he does find Jeonghan, who informs him that he’d seen you and Mingyu getting snow shoes a few hours ago, and Seungcheol’s heart sinks.
There’s a storm coming, and darkness has already begun to settle in across the resort- 
He hopes, for both your sakes, that you’re not on the top of the mountain, lost in the trails, when the worst of the winter weather hits.
After waiting diligently for his meal order to come through, Seungcheol ends up trekking back to your cabin with food and firewood in hand just as the snow begins to get heavier.
The last thing he expects when he enters your lodging, is to find you sitting there with a minty green facemask on, and for a second, he stands in the doorway just staring at you.
You break eye contact first, calling out “Cheol’s back!” and a moment later, Mingyu comes out of the bathroom, mid-facemask application.
“Cheol!” Mingyu beams, rubbing the green goo against his cheek, “you’re back from skiing!”
“I was back earlier-” Seungcheol closes the door behind him, “stopped here for a bit but you guys weren’t around.”
“We just got back from a snowshoe hike like, twenty minutes ago?” Mingyu tells him, looking at you for confirmation. Seungcheol watches the way you nod at Mingyu, and his friend lights up. This time, when he says “twenty minutes ago,” he says it with confidence.
“Well, I brought food and firewood,” Seungcheol sighs, kicking off his snow boots and entering the small space.
“Firewood?” You’re looking at him again, and Seungcheol can’t find it within himself to meet your eyes while you’re green in the face like this, so instead, he sets the food down and moves to the small cast iron fireplace in the corner.
“Did you think this cabin heats itself?” The question comes out much snarkier than he’d intended, and he regrets it as he begins to build the fire.
“No- I mean, I noticed it was cold when we got in twenty minutes ago- but I don’t know, I sort of assumed that maybe hotel staff would bring the wood and keep the embers going-”
Seungcheol scoffs. Of course another good deed of his would go unappreciated. 
“It’s plausible!” you try to insist.
“I never said anything.”
“You scoffed, you went like-” you mimic the throaty annoyed sound he’d made, “you went like that, a scoff- you scoffed at me!”
“Here’s your dinner,” Seungcheol pushes the bag of takeout towards you across the floor, eyes fixed on the fire he’s still building.
“What if I don’t want your food? What if I want to finish with this mask and go grab food for myself?” 
Seungcheol sighs again. “There’s literally a storm coming in- if you go out, you’re going to get windswept away- just eat the food I brought.”
“What if I don’t like the food you brought?” you insist again, and Seungcheol’s getting real tired of your bratty stubbornness. 
“You will, it’s what you’ve been eating for two nights in a row.”
This finally gets you to open the bag he’d brought, and you remove the three takeout items, eying them. “How did you know I like this?”
“Like I said- you’ve eaten it two nights in a row.”
“Why were you watching?”
“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair. “Just say thank you and eat your fucking food while I make this fire so you don’t freeze to death- why does everything have to be so hard with you?”
There’s a long pause, and he hears the sound of a food container opening. 
He’s thankful you’ve finally shut up and are going to eat.
“Even without the fire- this cabin is well insulated enough that we wouldn’t die,” you say after a moment. “The hotel wouldn’t be able to have a cabin where its renters could just die.”
If he hadn’t just lit the fire, Seungcheol might have considered allowing you to test your theory out of spite.
“You always need to have the last word, don’t you, brat?” He stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants before turning to look at you.
You open your mouth to respond- but quickly shrink under his hard gaze.
A moment later, you pick up the remote, and a movie begins to play.
At least in this, Cheol’s gotten the last laugh. 
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13: Monday - morning
“Fuck-” Jeonghan’s cursing does more to wake Joshua up than the knock at their cabin door had, and the younger irish twin goes to cover his ears while Jeonghan stumbles out of bed.
“Who is it?” Joshua groans, giving in and sitting up, squinting at the door that his brother throws open to reveal their eldest friend.
“Are you two really still sleeping?” Seungcheol pushes into the cabin, throwing his gloves down before gruffly kicking off his boots.
“What time is it?” Jeonghan asks, rubbing at his eyes and groaning before running back to nosedive into his bed.
“Late enough that you should both be awake.”
“Y/n’s not awake,” Jeonghan insists, tucking himself back under the covers, “and I don’t see Mingyu anywhere- why do they get a free pass from your bitching but we don’t?”
“Because they’re not my ski buddies today,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “Seriously, what’s up with you two- and why is it so cold in here?”
They all look towards the castiron fire place, and the emptiness of it gives Joshua a chill that he feels tingling through his entire body.
“We thought we had enough firewood to carry us over from the evening and into the night, so neither of us picked up any dry wood from the hotel yesterday-” Joshua begins to explain.
“Evidently you both ran out,” Cheol concludes, scanning the rest of the small space with his precise, all-knowing, eyes. His gaze lingers on the bottle of fireball on the coffee table. “Instead of running to get more wood, you guys took to drinking, huh?”
“It’s not like we were going to cuddle,” Jeonghan groans.
“So you’re both hung over.”
“Just a little,” Joshua sighs, swinging his legs out of his bed. “Give us half an hour and I can be up.”
“It’s funny,” Cheol says, moving to sit on the couch, “I just had a fight with your step-sister last night about whether we’d freeze to death if we forgot firewood- and at the same time, you guys were over here, resorting to fireball instead of an actual fire-”
“It’s not like we could go out and grab wood once we realized we didn’t have enough,” Jeonghan defends himself. “The storm was really bad.”
“And it’s going to be bad for the next few days,” Seungcheol tells them, “so you better get used to grabbing firewood every evening after dinner.”
Both of his friends groan. “Sure, dad,” Jeonghan buries his head in his pillows. “You know what? If you’re going to be like this, maybe I’ll sleep in and not be your ski buddy today.”  
“Mingyu ditched me yesterday, and now you’re ditching me today-” Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “am I really being that much of a dick this vacation?”
It’s Joshua who responds, pointing out, as thoughtfully as he can; “you have been more of a dick than usual.” 
To which Seungcheol replies, “Yeah, well, you guys have been pissing me off more than usual.” 
Except, Joshua knows it’s not necessarily he and Jeonghan who have been pushing Seungcheol’s buttons this trip- but he keeps that to himself. 
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14: Monday - afternoon
After skipping out on skiing with his friend and brother, Jeonghan had gotten some much-needed rest. Then, around lunchtime, he’d left his cabin in search of food only to bump into you and Mingyu doing the same thing.
As if that wasn’t coincidence enough, when your odd trio had entered the resort restaurant, you’d found Joshua and Seungcheol midway through their own meals.
Jeonghan had insisted you all join together, fully intending to meddle with you and your cabin mates. After all, he’d just gotten some sleep, and his mischievous mind was eager to stir the pot.
To his disappointment, the seating arrangements make poking people’s buttons difficult- with Cheol all but ignoring you from his vantage point as far from you as possible.
Despite the less-than-ideal format of your table, Jeonghan still finds a way to draw everyone into the conversation when he states, “so I heard there was a fight over cabin temperature last night.”
This earns Jeonghan a rough kick under the table from Cheol, as well as a harsh look from you. 
“Who said that?” you ask.
“Cheol did,” Jeonghan smiles through the pain in his shin, and this time, when Cheol goes to kick him, a quick movement of his leg has him narrowly avoiding his friend’s boot. “This morning, when he came to pick of Joshie for skiing.”
“It wasn’t a fight,” you go to insist, but the harsh glare you send Seungcheol’s way has Jeonghan nearly laughing.
“Definitely not a fight,” Mingyu confirms, and Jeonghan almost feels bad for the way he’s sat between you and Seungcheol. A man caught between two stormy personalities ready for a clash.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Jeonghan says, “we ran out of wood last night, and we didn’t die.”
You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Well, that’s good to know.” 
“Y/n was saying last night,” Mingyu adds, “that she doubted we’d die without wood- hotel regulations and everything-”
“Was Cheol insisting you’d die without a fire?” Joshua’s eyes have widened, and he leans in, elbows on the table next to Jeonghan’s food. “Cheol? Really?” 
“He was just being dramatic,” you say, and Jeonghan watches the way his friend’s ears turn red at your statement.
“Says the girl who was going to go out in the storm instead of eating the food I brought for her.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. He’s glaring at his plate, and a thick tension blankets the table.
Jeonghan loves it.
But then something happens that he couldn’t possibly predict: your parents enter the restaurant, and before he knows it, you’re hopping up to go say hello to Seulki and your father, leaving the men to deal with the unresolved tension.
“Are you trying to start something?” Seungcheol whispers angrily as soon as you’re out of earshot, his angry gaze fixed on Jeonghan.
“Who, me?” Jeonghan touches his chest, pretending to be the most innocent person in the room. “I was just looking for conversation. Besides, we’re the one’s who forgot firewood last night, it’s quite embarrassing for us.”
“You don’t look embarrassed,” Seungcheol notes, sitting back in his chair.
“He has no shame,” Mingyu adds, nodding sympathetically.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Jeonghan’s grin widens, and he looks over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see you leaving the restaurant. “Now that it’s just us, I suppose I should be a good big brother and figure out which one of you intends to fuck my new step-sister.”
Mingyu had been taking a sip of his drink, and now he’s choking, which only adds to Jeonghan’s delight. 
“Jeonghan,” Joshua’s harsh warning bounces off the elder brother, whose smile is becoming something akin to the Cheshire Cat’s.
“Neither of us are going for your stupid step-sister,” Seungcheol growls, thumping Mingyu on the back to aid with the water caught in his lungs.
“Oh, so you’re both in denial?” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “I’d thought at least Mingyu would fess  up.”
“Fess up to what?” Mingyu says between coughs. “I’m just being nice to her!”
Jeonghan nods. “Sure you are.”
“Why do you all think I want to fuck your stepsister?!” Mingyu whisper screams at his friends, doing a quick look around the restaurant before adding, “you guys are all horrible.”
“Cheol’s been bugging you about this too, huh?” It’s one of the first things Joshua’s really said, and Jeonghan realizes his brother is right. 
“Bet he had a lot to say about the way you danced with our sister at the wedding.”
“Were you all watching that?!” Mingyu’s eyes have widened. 
“It was quite the spectacle,” Jeonghan plays with his glass of water. “Cheol was jealous.”
“What!?” This time, when Seungcheol misses Jeonghan’s shin with his foot, the whole table shakes from impact along the underside of it. “Was not! I didn’t even dance with her- how could I be jealous when I never even danced with your stupid sister-”
“Stop calling her stupid,” Joshua’s harsh tone is a surprise to everyone, and the table goes quiet. “Just because you’re in denial about everything doesn’t mean you get to call our new sister stupid.”
“Someone’s taking their older brother role a little seriously-” Seungcheol lets out a whistle.
“Deflect all you want,” Joshua sighs, “Change the topic and make fun of me, but at the end of the day, you’re only making things harder on yourself… both of you.”
For a moment, both Seungcheol and Mingyu are put on the spot, then Seungcheol insists, “We’re not doing anything.”
“And denial is a river in Egypt,” Joshua sighs, shocking the whole table with a pop culture quote- something that’s very unlike him. “Cheol, you’re done eating, let’s leave these two and get a few more runs in before the storm makes skiing impossible.” 
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15: Monday - evening
Sitting on the floor with your roommates, roasting marshmallows on the fire while the storm rages outside, you find yourself noticing all the small details about them both.
It’s the first night that you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath and relax, accepting that, with the extreme weather, there is really nothing else that can be done except to work on enjoying your company.
Mingyu is easy, as you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. You’ve gotten used to his large form, the clumsiness and easy smiles.
Seungcheol, on the other hand, is something you’re newly exploring, sneaking glances at his side profile whenever you think he’s fully distracted in his marshmallow making.
Unlike Mingyu, who thrusts his treat into the fire and watches it burn, Seungcheol is meticulous about his food, preferring a spot where his marshmallow can slowly turn golden near the embers.
He’s got a pretty side profile, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he focuses, eyes fixed on flames that light his face in pretty hues. 
His nose is also quite striking, and along with his strong brow, his face is altogether quite attractive, something you’ve been fighting yourself on since the moment you entered the cabin and he’d been cold to you.
There’s something about the duality of him that has your heart racing whenever he’s around. 
You’re never sure which Cheol you’re going to get.
You’ve had glimpses of his softer side, especially on your first day when he’d carried you to bed and then left you a map- then there’d been the way he brought you your dress shoes after you’d forgotten to pack them and trekked to the hotel in snow boots on the day of the wedding-
It seems as if Seungcheol is the kind of man who likes to do nice things for you when you’re not watching, but after your small altercation last night, wherein you’d realized he’s also been doing fire duty, you’ve made more of an attempt to notice small things.
 Small things like the way he takes the perfect golden marshmallow out of the fire, places it between two chocolate graham crackers, and hands it to you without a word, giving you the best s’more of the night.
He balances his kindness to you by offering Mingyu the s’more after, and you think he must be doing it as if to say ‘you’re not special, I’ll share with everyone’ but you can’t help but think there might be more to it. 
To your surprise, Mingyu is the first of the three of you to get sleepy, and after a quick washup in the bathroom, he’s collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep. 
For the first time since arriving at the cabin, you find yourself truly alone with Seungcheol, no big, human buffer to keep you both in line.
The silence is thick. Even so, in the quiet, Seungcheol gives you wide birth to go wash your face and brush your teeth while he cleans up the few items from your s’mores.
There’s hardly anything to be said, and the two of you find yourselves getting into your own beds in no time at all.
“Turning off the light,” Seungcheol tells you, hand reaching for the lamp chord. 
He pauses, waiting for your curt “okay” before following through with his statement of intent, and the room is captured in darkness.
The wind howls outside, drowning out any sounds of your roommates breathing, and for a little while, you can almost pretend you’re alone. 
Almost. 
In the dark, your mind begins to have all sorts of thoughts, and you surprise yourself when words slip out of you; “I’m sorry for calling you dramatic today.”
The air feels thick and heavy, a few beats of silence passing that almost convince you Seungcheol’s asleep, but then, he responds. “I’m sorry for referring to our disagreement last night as ‘a fight’ when I talked to Jeonghan this morning.” 
“It’s okay,” you say quietly. 
For a short while, you think nothing else is going to be said, but then; “Goodnight y/n.”
You take a breath, wrapping yourself tighter in your blankets. “Goodnight, Cheol.” 
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CONTINUE READING PART 2 HERE I note. the fic was too long to be posted in one tumblr post 🤪
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© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.
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bettysupremacy · 3 months
Note
HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)
OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)
thank uu
HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!
“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”
“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”
They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.
“I’ll scare her.”
“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”
They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.
“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.
Two voices shout at him. “No!”
Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”
His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.
“Oh, shit!”
He’s crashed into you.
“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.
James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”
Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.
“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”
You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”
“Has that happened?”
“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”
“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.
“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”
He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.
You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”
“Noble.”
You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”
“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.
“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”
He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.
“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”
You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”
“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”
“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”
“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”
You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”
“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.
“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”
He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.
“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”
He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”
“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”
He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?
“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”
You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”
A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”
Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.
“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”
“Perfect.”
He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”
“Y/N.”
“Remus.”
“I know.” You laugh.
He knows you’re not laughing at him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.
“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.
James scoffs. “He got the date!”
“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”
Remus glares. “Thanks.”
“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”
Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.
“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.
“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”
“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.
“I didn’t mean to!”
He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.
Call me.
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tasteleeknow · 1 year
Text
— make a wish
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pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k
summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.
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a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i'm sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎
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afab!reader. profanity. anxiety mention. pet names. oil massage. unprotected intercourse. praise kink. grinding. breast groping. fingering. possessive behaviour.
You couldn’t afford to get your boyfriend anything for his birthday. You’d considered borrowing some money from your friends. Anything you could afford felt totally inadequate. It was embarrassing. You had been so stressed about it Minho had noticed your low mood. “Just stressed with work,” you’d told him. It was only during a phone call with your parents you’d had an idea. When you were little you’d made your parents small coupon books for their birthdays. Each page would have a small redeemable favour they could use at any time. Things like vacuum the house, breakfast in bed, clean the bathroom etc. When you had no money of your own the little ticket books were your solution. Why couldn’t they be now?
You’d spent the last few days with the small book in your pocket, pulling it out and adding a page whenever a new idea popped into your head. You knew he’d pretend to like whatever you got him. Whether he was actually happy or not, you’d never know. You couldn’t help feeling anxious about it. You’d woken up before him this morning to make him breakfast, fiddling with the small book periodically—second guessing giving it to him at all. You could just tell him his gift hasn’t arrived yet, go borrow some money and buy him something nice. 
He sits across from you now, devouring the pancakes you’d made—his hair fluffy from sleep. He’d hardly said anything since he’d woken up, stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into the chair—half asleep. You wonder if now is the best time to give him the coupon book, while he’s too sleepy to think too much about it. 
“Come here,” Minho mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes, pushing his chair back and patting his thigh. You shove the small book in your pocket and stand to make your way to his side of the table. He watches you approach him, eyes dropping to your bare legs. 
You were wearing a sweater you’d stolen from him, some panties and a pair of fluffy socks. Lazy day attire. When you’d asked him if there was anything he wanted to do on his birthday, he’d stretched his arms above his head and mumbled. He wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. You’d thought maybe you could make up for the gift with a trip somewhere nice. Obviously not.
You settle yourself in his lap, thighs across his legs, side pressed to his chest. “Feed me,” he says, a serious expression on his face. 
You wrap one arm around his neck, holding yourself against him. “No please?” 
“It’s my birthday.”
“So I'm just your personal servant today then?” 
“Mm, pancake,” he says, opening his mouth in preparation. Maybe he will like your coupon book. You pull your arm from his neck so you can reach over to cut up the pancakes. His arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. You hold your hand under the fork as you bring it to his mouth, ready to catch any spillage. 
“Say ahhh,” you prompt, treating him like one of the small children you’d babysat as a teenager. He frowns, leaning forward to latch onto the fork to steal the food. He leans back, eyebrows relaxing—a satisfied expression forming on his face as he chews. “Baby,” you tease, poking his cheek. 
“You’re supposed to be nice to me today.” 
“I’m always nice to you.” 
“Extra nice. Another,” he says, finished with his mouthful. You feed him another, watching him chew. You may as well give him the book. You could always tell him you had another gift coming. You reach into your pocket to pull the small book out. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching to snatch it from your hands. You pull it away from him just in time. 
“Be patient or you can’t have it.” 
“It’s for me then?” he says, a grin forming on his face.  
“Only if you’re good.” 
“I’m always good.” 
You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s…not much. I couldn’t really…afford much else so I thought—” 
“Give it,” he says, reaching to snatch it from you. He’s successful this time. You hold your breath as he inspects it, snaking one arm around his neck so he can free both his hands. He’s quiet as he reads the small note you’d written on the first page, then he flicks through. 
“I can use these anytime?” he says finally. 
“Yeah, whenever.” 
“What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to one of the pages. 
“I’ll pet you.” 
His nose scrunches as he pulls a face. “Why would I want to be pet?” 
“You love being pet.” You reach up to stroke the hair at the back of his head. “Like when I stroke your hair as you’re falling asleep.” 
“Now I have to pay for that?” 
“You just get to ask for it whenever you want.” 
He’s silent as he flips through a few pages. “I want to redeem this one right now,” he says, ripping out one of the tickets. You take it from him so you can read it. 
“Clean the cat litter for a week.” You look across the room to the three litter trays against the wall. “Alright then, your week starts now.” 
“Good, I haven’t done it this morning,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “This one, too.” You take the piece of paper from him. 
“Return one of your sweaters,” you read.
“I want this one back, right now.” He tugs at the sweater you're wearing. He hadn’t worn it in months, not since you’d stolen it. You attempt to climb off him so you can go change. “No, now,” he says, holding you down. 
“This coupon is for one sweater, not one naked girlfriend on your lap.” 
“It’s not my fault you allowed the system to be easily manipulated.” 
“Let me up a second.” He loosens his grip on you just long enough for you to resettle yourself in his lap, one leg over each thigh—facing him fully now. “Help me,” you say, lifting your arms above your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he pulls the sweater up over your head—dropping it to the ground the second you’re freed. You look down at the pile of fabric on the floor. “If you don’t want that, let me keep it. It’s my favourite.” 
“I want it.” 
“You’re disrespecting it.” 
“It’s mine, I can put it where I want,” he says, leaning back in the chair and tracing his palms up your waist. 
“I hate you.”
“Did you really just say that to me on my birthday?” He says, eyes fixed on your tits. 
“Do you like it? The book.” 
“Mm.”
“Do you really or are you just saying that?”
“It’s already got you naked in my lap, I like it,” he mutters, hands grasping your breasts. You pull them off you. 
“Groping wasn’t part of the voucher.” 
“I’ve never needed a voucher before.” 
“Well, now you do.” 
“Is there a groping voucher?” 
“Take a look.” 
He reaches down to grab the book from the floor before flipping through it. You smooth his messy hair down a little as he searches. “Massage?” he reads. “Can I have a massage AND grope your tits?” 
You hold your hand out in reply. He rips the massage coupon out and slaps it on your hand then flips through until he finds a ticket with your scribbled handwriting that reads: ‘1 Coupon to Touch, Grope or Poke’. 
“I can’t believe I need to pay for this now,” he grumbles, tearing the page from the book and slapping it on top of the other in your palm. 
“One massage with groping coming right up,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and climbing off his lap. He bends over to grab the sweater off the floor before following you to the bedroom. You lay out a towel on the bed. “Lie down,” you tell him before collecting the massage oil from the bathroom. When you return he’s stripped himself fully, lying back with his hands behind his head. “Did I tell you to strip?” 
“The voucher didn’t say I needed to be clothed. You’ve got the oil anyway. You were gonna tell me when you came back, control freak.” He says, smirking at you from his reclined position against the pillows. 
“I was going to tell you to take your shirt off, not whip your cock out.” 
“You like my cock,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself.
“Don’t fish for compliments, there’s a voucher for that.” 
He pulls his hand from his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you properly. “There’s a compliment voucher?”
“Mm,” you confirm, climbing onto the bed to settle next to him.
“How many?” 
“It’s unlimited until it expires at the end of the week.” 
“Okay, compliment my cock then.” 
“I like your cock very much. My favourite cock. Very pretty. Now roll over.” 
He groans dramatically as he turns onto his stomach, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on. You climb over him, settling against his ass. You snap the cap off the oil before dribbling a generous amount over his back. He mumbles something, too muffled for you to make out. 
You lay yourself down onto him, breasts against the bare skin of his back. “What was that?” you ask before pressing your lips to the skin just behind his ear. 
“The oil is cold,” he repeats, clearer this time. 
“It’s cold? Poor baby,” you tease, sitting up again and dragging your hands down his back—spreading the oil as you go. Your breasts and stomach are slippery from where you pressed against him. He was right, it was a little cold. “I’ll warm you up, yeah?” you say, hands working the oil into his muscles. He groans as you hit a sore spot, letting you know where he needs extra attention. His muscles flex occasionally as you work, the feeling of them under your hands in combination with the noises coming from his throat make it impossible for you to stay still. The small movements of your hips against him go unnoticed. At least he doesn’t give you any indication he’s noticed. 
It isn’t until you’ve reached his lower back that he speaks up. “Take them off.”
You lift your fingers from his skin. “My hands?” 
“Panties. I can feel you rolling against me…wanna feel your naked pussy.”
“Shut up.” 
“It’s my birthday,” he whines. “Is there a coupon for it?”
“For grinding against your ass?” 
“For getting naked.” 
“...Yes.”
He lets out a contented sigh. “Best present ever.”
You can’t help it when your lips curve into a small smile in response. “You wanna use it then?”
“Mm, take them off.” 
You stand up on the bed to pull them down your legs, leaving you entirely bare minus the fluffy socks on your feet. “Socks?” you ask. 
“They can stay. Cute.” 
You lower yourself onto him, against his lower back this time. You can’t help letting a small sound escape your throat as your sensitive cunt presses against his warm slippery skin. You resume kneading his muscles as your hips roll against him, leaning down to press small kisses against his neck occasionally. Each time you lean down to kiss his neck you listen to the barely audible sounds he makes, like he’s holding back moans. 
“You warm now?” you ask eventually, voice breathy. 
“Mm,” he confirms, “Can feel your hot little cunt…so warm.” 
“This was a coupon for a massage, and now I'm naked grinding on you.” 
“Like I said, easily manipulated. No rules about combining tickets.” 
“Turn over,” you say, climbing off him. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. “Let go, I’m not done.” 
“Mm? Intermission,” he mutters before pressing his lips into yours. You feel his cock trapped between you, the oil spreading a little from your chest to his. “Compliment,” he mutters between kisses—cashing in one of his unlimited compliment coupons for the day.
“Could feel all your muscles…you’ve been working so hard...” 
“Yeah? The gym is paying off then?”
“Mm, can see it.” 
“Thank you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll lie down now.” 
You climb off him, letting him settle himself down on his back. As you reach for the bottle his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Do you need that?” he asks.
“You don’t like it?” 
“I like it, but you could oil me up another way.” He says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
You sigh, giving him a pointed look as you wait for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next. He was completely unpredictable, one of the many things you loved about him. 
“Your tits,” he finishes, lips curving into a proper grin.
“What?” 
“Use your tits to oil me, they’re all slippery.” 
“You…want me to…rub the oil from my tits onto you?” 
“It’s my birthday,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. 
“There’s no coupon for that.” 
“Just because you love me, then.” 
“Let me get the oil, I need more.” 
He releases your wrist, allowing you to grab the bottle. You climb over him and open the cap—looking up at his face. He smiles. Alright, then. You tip the bottle upside down at your clavicles, letting the oil pour down over your tits. It’s cold. When the oil hits your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. Minho’s hand comes up to grip your thigh. 
“More,” he says, voice breathy. You definitely don’t need more but you humour him, pouring oil until it drips down onto his stomach. 
“Enough?” you ask, finally.
“Mm, good.” 
You drop the bottle onto the bed next to you and use both hands to massage the oil into your tits a little. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter as you work.
“I’m a fucking genius,” he mutters, eyes fixed on your tits. You huff out a laugh, hands dropping to rest on his chest. 
“Should I oil your tits now?” 
“If you like,” he says, as if he hadn’t guided the situation exactly where he wanted it. You lower yourself down onto him, chest to chest. “Compliment,” he breathes into your mouth. You slide back and forth a little against him, the slick oil making it easy. 
“Needy,” you tease before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hm…let me think.”
“You need to think about it?” 
“You just have too many good qualities. It’s overwhelming.” 
“Ah, I see.” 
“You make me feel safe…and warm. I get this feeling in my chest when I’m with you, like everything is really okay.”
His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his chest fully. “Another.” 
“Your eyes are the prettiest.” 
“Mm, another.” 
“You make me laugh more than anyone else.” 
“These are really unlimited?” 
“Sure, but the more time I spend complimenting you the less time I have to rub oil on you with my tits.” 
“You can't compliment me WHILE you rub oil on me with your tits? It’s my birthday.” 
“Is it? You hadn’t mentioned,” you tease, grinning down at him before continuing to spread oil over him with your body. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as you work. His hair flops over his forehead, still messy from sleep. One of his hands grips your thigh, the other above his head—resting against the pillow, palm facing up. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, his hand warm in yours. 
“Kiss,” he mutters, lips a little swollen from where he’d bitten them. You take his hand from your thigh, pressing it above his head to join the other. You hold him there, each hand in his as you taste him. He’s a little sweet from the maple syrup. You can’t help moaning into his mouth, a little overwhelmed from all the different sensations. The warmth of him under you, the slippery oil coating your torso, the slide of your sensitive nipples against his skin, his sweet lips attached to yours, his warm hands in yours.
He detaches his lips from yours to speak. “Is there—” He kisses you again, interrupting himself. “Is there a coupon for letting me oil you?” 
“No, I don’t think letting you give me an oil massage is much of a gift.” 
“Well, I do,” he says before wrapping his arms around you, flipping you under him. You felt like you’d been holding his hands to the bed pretty firmly. Apparently not. He’d pulled himself free without even a hint of struggle. His dark hair hangs down over his eyes. You reach up to play with it just before he sits back and grasps each of your tits.
“So slippery, hm?” he whispers, eyes fixed on where his hands grope you—kneading each breast thoroughly. He’d always had a fascination with your breasts, groping them whenever he had the chance. You’d often hear the bathroom door open mid shower, your boyfriend joining you. He’d lather up his hands with body wash, insisting on massaging each breast—completely fixated on them until you eventually guided his hands elsewhere. 
You wrap your hands around his wrists now, prompting him to look up at your face. “I’m slippery elsewhere, too,” you say, guiding his hands down your stomach slowly. He pulls away so he can move down the bed and push your legs apart—settling himself between them. 
“Here, baby?” he asks, one finger gently brushing against your wet cunt. You suck in a breath, already sensitive from grinding against him. His finger brushes up and down through your folds gently, like he’s never touched you before. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his soft caress. You're so blissed out you nearly jump out of your skin at the cold oil he pours over your cunt. Apparently you’d been so out of it you hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle. 
“Co-Cold,” you stammer out, back arching off the bed slightly. 
“Yeah? Poor baby,” he teases, mimicking your words from earlier as his fingers find you again—much more confident this time. He spreads the oil over your mound, then his fingers move down through your folds, massaging the oil over your cunt thoroughly. “So pretty,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to make out. 
You struggle to stay still, squirming as he plays with you. It isn’t until he presses his long fingers inside you, the other hand working circles on your clit, that you let go—back arching off the bed as you whine his name. He works you through your high, wet sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. 
He climbs over you as you attempt to catch your breath, panting into his mouth as he kisses you. So sweet. 
“Do I need a coupon to fuck you?” he whispers against your lips. 
“No,” you breathe out, “you can do that just because I love you.”
The tip of his cock kisses your sensitive cunt as he mutters against your mouth. “I want to hear compliments as I fill you.” You nod, struggling to offer him a verbal response. “Use your words,” he prompts. 
“Yes…compliments…move, please.” 
He presses forward, his tip spreading you open. Your mind blanks, as it always does when he enters you. As he knows it will. Your mouth falls open, brows pulling together. “Compliment,” he says, not pressing in any further. 
You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “So—So big, always so hard for me,” you manage to breathe out. He offers you a small smile before pushing into you a little more, the oil helping him spread you open. He drops his head into your shoulder. 
“Another,” he says, lips moving against your skin. 
“Stretch me open so well, feel so full of you every time. Wish you were inside me always, just like this,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. You hold him against you as he begins moving, pressing his body into yours. He quiet as he fucks into you slow and deep, much slower than your used to. He usually liked it fast and hard, holding your hips up off the bed so he could use your cunt like a toy. He’d fuck you like that most nights, biceps flexing as he held you up. It wasn’t until he’d filled you that he’d melt, everything about him softened as he helped you reach your high—either with his fingers or his mouth.
“Tell me your mine,” he mumbles into your neck now. Slow, deep strokes of his cock splitting you open. 
“Of course I’m yours,” you answer, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. “Just like your mine, right?” 
“Mm,” he confirms before his lips attach to your skin properly, sucking a mark into your neck. You savour the feeling of him filling you as he works on marking your neck, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. When he finally detaches from your neck, you expect him to sit back—to start fucking you like he usually did. Instead he moves his head to the other side of your neck so he can begin marking you again. By the time he’s finished this one his hips are moving erratically, signalling his end. He hovers over you, breath mingling with yours as he pants. 
You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes, loving the expression he makes as he fills you. You reach up to grab the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours as his hips stutter against you, a final moan slipping from his lips.
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After returning from the bathroom you find Minho quietly flipping through the coupon book, inspecting each page properly. You settle yourself against him, head resting against his chest. “What does this one mean?” he asks. 
“Read it to me.” 
“Make a wish.” 
“That’s a free for all. You can ask for anything.” 
“Anything?” 
You chuckle, hand lightly patting his stomach. “Nothing that’ll get either of us arrested…or killed.” Or cost more than I can afford, you add silently. 
He says nothing. You imagine his brain running through every possible thing he could ask of you. You imagine him asking to adopt another cat or make you come to the gym with him everyday. Every now and then you’d tag along and watch his workout. He said it was motivating. You close your eyes, nuzzling against him a little. Then the sound of paper tearing breaks the comfortable silence and he tucks the ticket into your hand. 
“I want to use it now,” he announces. 
“You sure? You only get one.” 
“One a year.”
“You want the same gift again next year?” 
“It’s a good gift.” 
You don’t hold back your smile, your face hidden from him. You believe him. He actually likes it. “Alright, what’s your wish this year then?”
He’s quiet again. His hand rests on top of yours, the ticket tucked safely under both your hands. Finally, he speaks again. “Marry me.” 
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please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!
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