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zeldasnotes · 5 months

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CHIRON IN THE HOUSES ⚷

What your placement makes me think of

CHIRON IN THE 1ST HOUSE: Afraid of being seen as weak, people commenting on your appearance, hiding behind makeup, forcing a tough phacade, extreme competetiveness, surrounding yourself with tough people, comfortable in a small pond so that you can be the big fish, projecting your selfhate onto others, picking other peoples appearance apart, picking your own appearance apart, acting arrogant as a coping mechanism, analyzing, forcing confidence, body dysmorphia, being seen as a target, afraid to go places alone, having a unique feature people comment on.

CHIRON IN THE 2ND HOUSE: Poor kid in a rich kids school, growing up poor, growing up in a family with no money or the opposite growing up in a rich family where money is everything, childhood messed up your moral compass, low self worth, body image issues, not feeling at home in your own body, being used for money, born in the wrong body, growing up in a single parent household, possessive, afraid of loss, experiencing a lot of loss, greediness or completely rejecting the material, not taking care of yourself properly, afraid of change, afraid of never finding stability.

CHIRON IN THE 3RD HOUSE: Bullying during early school years, being compared to a sibling, having a lisp, stuttering, difficulty with expressing yourself, passive aggressive, asthma, communication issues, feeling unwelcomed in your neighbourhood, issues with cousins, speech therapy, having a twin, having a sibling you are expected to ”live up to”, feeling afraid to talk, strong need to be seen as intelligent, outsmarting people, feeling insecure about your social skills.

CHIRON IN THE 4TH HOUSE: Being the black sheep, suppressed childhood memories, feeling rejected by a family member, being the family scape goat, walking on eggshells at home, extremely intuitive, afraid of people being angry or irritated with you, a mother with bpd, a narcissistic mother, generational trauma, trying to heal your mother, a family of broken women, emotionally unavailable parents, constantly hearing parents fighting, having to pick sides between family members, feeling stuck at home, issues renting or buying a home, having to constantly move.

CHIRON IN THE 5TH HOUSE: Experiencing mom/dad shaming, shamed for having kids later in life, shamed for having kids too young, shamed for not wanting kids, teen dad/mom, strong need to be creative or rejecting your creativity, custody battle, having to co-parent with someone you dislike, baby trapped, growing up too fast, ashamed of having fun, afraid of expressing yourself, inability to just let got and have fun, insecure about your style or art, not getting along with your own child, using your pain as entertainment or art, feeling a need to constantly perform.

CHIRON IN THE 6TH HOUSE: Hard time with routines, door dash addict, inability to take care of yourself, obsession with routines, overworking or inability to find work,a job that drains you, a need to constantly be of service, constantly getting sick, your needs being ignored growing up, working with healing others, being overly criticized by a parent, workoutschedules, bad experiences with pets, dieting, hypochondriac, never feeling clean enough, growing up in dirty surroundings, among hoarders.

CHIRON IN THE 7TH HOUSE: Feeling like there is a wall between you and others, fear of rejection, early experiences with rejection, rejected by your first love, no social life, afraid of never finding ”the one”, early experiences with betrayal, people pleasing, ”you havent met anyone yet?”, getting into your first relationship later in life, attracted to wounded people, trying to save bad people, scared of being left for someone else, trying to be perfect, obeying to be liked, connections with others ending badly.

CHIRON IN THE 8TH HOUSE: Afraid of opening up, experiencing constant loss, afraid of loss of power, growing up around someone who asserted power over them, a wound surrounding sex and intimacy, being left out when it comes to inheritance, afraid of not being in control, people trying to control you, freaked out at the thought of ”doing it”, a bad or traumatizing first time, ”doing it” as a selfharm method to take back control after trauma, having to take money in the form of donations, external help, scholarships bc of your family being low income, ashamed of having to take money from others.

CHIRON IN THE 9TH HOUSE: No faith, painful memories from school, the only kid with your cultural background in the whole school, feeling no hope, being forced to convert to another religion, afraid of traveling, never been out of the country you were born in, changing schools, afraid to go to school, bullying in school, not feeling accepted by your inlaws, not feeling free, feeling stuck where you grew up, feeling like you have no roots, being mixed race and not feeling at home with any side.

CHIRON IN THE 10TH HOUSE: Being a part of a family with a bad reputation and therefore being born with a bad rep, being forced into a career, not getting the recognition you deserve for your work, scandals becoming public knowledge, people still talking about that thing you did years ago, being known for something painful, an absent father, not being able to live up to who your father wants you to be, seeking validation from the public, afraid of public humiliation, being slandered.

CHIRON IN THE 11TH HOUSE: Struggling to fit in, prefering to hang out one on one instead of a group, being left out or blamed by a group, toxic friendships, wanting to save the world, misunderstood, deep understanding of the unspoken undercurrentsin group settings, uncomfortable in a group setting, bullying on social media, being exposed online, lack of hope, feeling that nobody gets you, not belonging to any group, strong need to contribute to society, powerstruggles with a stepparent, evil stepmom or evil stepkid kinda energy.

CHIRON IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Absorbing other peoples energy, living in solitude, sleep disorders, the people you least expected turning out to be an enemy, feeling a need to please the collective unconscious, hypersensive to your surroundings, feelings loneliness no matter how many people are around, feeling like you belong in the underworld, repressed memories, zoning out, constantly sensing emotional undercurrents, pushing things under the rugs, medication, bad experiences with addicts, psychic attacks.

CHIRON ASPECTING INNER PLANETS:

SUN/CHIRON: A fragile ego, inflated ego, absent father, putting on a false persona, defensive, acting arrogant when you feel insecure, a dad who left, deep understanding of why people do what they do, not knowing how to express yourself, identity issues, having a healing energy, trying to help everyone.

MOON/CHIRON: Extreme sensitivity, hiding your sensitivity, trying to find parental love in a partner, being shamed for your sensitivity, betrayal from women in the family, emotional scars, seeing through anyone, a bitchy mother, surrounded by bitches, having triggers you cant explain, rejecting and suppressing your emotions, nurturing issues, ”with women comes pain”.

MERCURY/CHIRON: Healing or wounding people with your words, verbally undressing people so that they feel as naked as you, penetrating people to the core, therapist, harsh criticism, wordplay, saying the thing everyone thinks but doesnt say, constantly putting your foot in your mouth, peoples words cut you like knives, you cut back.

VENUS/CHIRON: Extreme fear of rejection, connecting women with pain, female rivalry, low self esteem, attracted to wounded people, plastic surgery, wanting to look perfect, people pleasing to be loved, feeling unworthy of love, ”the bar is in hell” being treated like shit and accepting it bc you love them, feeling ugly no matter how much people tell you youre beautiful, betrayal by women, brutal rejection from a love interest that affected your self esteem deeply.

MARS/CHIRON: Suppressing anger, turning the anger inward or overcompensating by being overly aggressive, surrounded by aggressive men, surrounded by toxic masculinity, feeling uncomfortable around men, afraid of anger, extreme anger from men, feeling like you are not ”man enough”, the dark side of being a man, shamed for your sexuality, rejecting your mascuiline side or acting overly masculine.

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #chiron 1st house #venus conjunct chiron #sun conjunct chiron #chiron

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charmwasjess · 6 months

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Lightsaber Theory: Obi-Wan "Sith Lords are Our Specialty" Kenobi consistently loses duels to Dooku not for any reason of technical form mismatch or lack of ability, but because Dooku is not even pretending to try to kill him. Resultantly, Obi-Wan can’t figure out what the fuck is going on when they fight.

Obi-Wan: (preparing to defend an expected lethal strike) You’ll answer for your enormities, Count!

Dooku: (giving him the lightest love tap on the leg) Don’t be so sure, my special good lineage baby boy, so perfect in my eyes.

Obi-Wan: …What?

Dooku: What?

Which Dooku and Obi-Wan proud lineage moment is even the most unhinged? There are so many to choose from! Is it Dooku’s frequent inability, both in AotC and TCW, to keep from spontaneously gushing about Sidious’s plans and even his own dark secrets to Obi-Wan?? Is it the time in Labyrinth of Evil where Dooku drags a long-suffering, bored Grievous over to watch a holorecording of Anakin and Obi-Wan thwarting his plans yet again, to point out how beautifully they’re working together as a team and how much he likes watching their lightsaber work evolve? Is it in the recent Brotherhood novel, where Obi-Wan just has to casually namedrop Qui-Gon to get Dooku to do exactly what he wants?

Obi-Wan is a big problem for Sidious in his mission to destabilize and corrupt Anakin, and Sidious knows it. He needs him out of the picture to do the same isolating, evil bullshit that worked so well when ensnaring Dooku himself. But the war has been going on for years now, and guess who remains inconveniently alive? And whose job was that to take care of? Oh yeah. I remember. His useless, Padawan assassin-collecting apprentice: fucking Count Dooku. By the time of RotS, Sidious has specifically ordered Dooku to make fucking sure Obi-Wan is dead only for him to completely ignore the command about a half-dozen times.

Going by the Stover RotS novelization, in the same scene where Dooku also literally refers to Obi-Wan as his fucking grandson actually, add that to our earlier list, Sidious reiterates that KILL OBI-WAN is the plan (over the sound of Dooku’s loud complaining) moments before that final duel. I kind of wish we’d gotten a shot of Sidious's incredulous, enraged expression as Dooku knocks Obi-Wan unconscious and pins him safely out of the way. He is, once again, going out of his way to not kill Obi-Wan in that duel, and this time directly disobeying his Master to his face after they just had a conversation about it. You just know exactly what Sidious must be thinking at that moment. Oh, Dooku. You are so fucking fired.

#count dooku #obi wan kenobi #darth sidious #disaster lineage #lightsaber nerd stuff #the clone wars #revenge of the sith #star wars books #Sidious is so done #you know he had to wake up every morning of Dooku's apprenticeship and just repeat a calming mantra about not killing him yet #oh no the notoriously defiant rule breaker Jedi I corrupted is acting like a notoriously defiant rule breaker #but really #I love that Dooku was secretly (not so secretly) proud of Obi-Wan

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munsonthings86 · 2 months

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sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #stranger things 4 #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x poc!reader

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lady-grace-pens · 2 years

Text

Finally announcing how I’m officially giving up my (publishing) dreams. Feels good to be free lads 😎

#kaitlyn talks for once #no but seriously though #considering it heavily #it might be the best option for me personally to just self publish or better get just publish the story online someplace #you can’t write strictly for yourself if you want to Make It. you just can’t express yourself like that. different is bad market trends are #good #whatever #idk it’s just a lot #I’m hungry on my period and hardly slept a wink last night so that’s only making awful mood about my life even worse #oh well #settling for less than my dreams feels like suffocation but #so does holding onto something I’m not qualified for #I mean. this isn’t just coming from my shitty ass luck with finding a single beta reader who won’t fucking ghost me #it’s my attachment to my story and my inability to handle their many feedback suggestions and whatnot without loosing complete faith in #my writing and myself just like this #I’m stuck in this loop and I can’t get out #I could explain this better in a dm or someplace where I’m not so limited #but eh. who’s really gonna care anyway? doesn’t matter #i mean maybe this is actually a good thing? giving up #free from pressure free from stress. ability to just make what I want and not have to worry about it being good or not. idk.#i still want it to be.#i really don’t know anything about anything anymore is all I’m saying #I guess I should go eat something #but this does pose the question of what I want to do with my future instead…#oh god #that induces anxiety #i can’t deny even now that the only thing I want to do is just create. write stories. that’s all #but I’ve got this self doubt and impossibility of circumstances and lack of support system that are strangling me #sorry this tag section is a mess. I’ve hit the limit too. damn

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m-ayo-o · 3 months

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HIIII, I've been thinking in reader wanting to ride megumi's face but she is so shy to ask but somehow megumi finds out what she wanna do😋😼

somehow? he knows. he's a smart guy ;) 18+ ! watching porn, masturbation mention, oral, afab reader x 21+ megumi

You can't articulate it. Every time he goes down on you... you want more? Sure, he encourages you to move your hips. He grabs your body as he kneels between your legs on the bed and drags you closer, sucking and making out with your pussy.

But after watching a certain pornographic educational video... you're starting to desire what you saw. A girl- a very pretty girl- climbed up on her partner's lap, then he pulled her higher, over his chest, then higher- over his face!?

Won't she suffocate him like that? How can he--

But when you hear the audio of the man moaning, you know he can breathe just fine- and if he can't? He sure as hell doesn't care.

And since watching that video, sliding your fingers down between your wet folds, you can't get the idea out of your head. In every intimate instance with your sweet boyfriend you want to bring it up, but you just can't.

He notices your hips bucking with such need- it seems to be growing every time you do this together; every time he pleasures you. But he pins you down and holds you still, sucking and licking you so thoroughly.

Had he considered pulling you up to perch on his chin? Sure. But will he do it... without being asked? Perhaps not.

You'd love it, surely? Or would you be too embarrassed and tell him to stop? That could potentially ruin the mood, so he keeps quiet for now, pressing himself further into you and humming contently.

"Ngh- Megumi?"

"Mm?"

"C-can we try... a different position?"

Uh.

"What position, princess?"

Could you be any less specific?

Do you want him to push you back, tilt your body up with your ass in the air and he's kneeling over you, sinking his tongue in from above?

Or... on your knees? With his face smushed into you from behind? He's sure he could manage that.

Maybe you want to sit on the edge of the bed, with your legs spread?

You stare right into his eyes for a moment, until he pops his lips from you and sits on his haunches.

"Baby, what is it?"

I can't read your mind, dammit.

You wish he could.

Your eyes flit over his gorgeous features, you bite your lip and grip at the sheets. He sees your shyness, your inability to express your needs... and he guesses. It's a hunch. But in all honesty, he thinks, what girl wouldn't want this?

He lies down on the bed and watches your eyes go wide with shock.

"Come on, sweetie," he pats his chest, gesturing for you to sit up there.

He moves you up by tugging your thighs, now you're sitting over him with a certain look in your eyes that confirms all of his thoughts.

"Sit on my face."

He tells you to do it, and you swear you're going to lose all of your self control. You perch up there like it's your damn throne and he makes you so comfortable you start to run your fingers into his black hair and admire that pretty face of his.

And he can't help it now, licking you and pressing his tongue up and into you, swirling around the bud of your clit and through your folds. It's addicting, the way you start to move, and the view he has- good god- your stomach and tits have never looked more sexy. He holds your waist and encourages you to move. You have no idea what you're doing, but fuck it feels so good and you can't stop.

"Mmmhmm- that's it princess-"

He feels you getting closer. He knows the look on your face now- how your eyebrows arch with concentration and your back gets a little stiff. He can feel every muscle in your cute body... he knows the dips and rises like the back of his hand.

"Cum on me, hm?"

He's asking you to. And you can't keep him waiting.

"M- mhm- Megumi-- y-you're too good at this-!"

He knows.

"Haha, you're so cute-"

He watches you steady yourself and eventually slow down, as your hips still over his face.

"Next time... just ask me, okay?"

Guessing is fun. But taking orders? That's hot.

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi <3 #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 26 days

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Can I request headcanons for Boothill react to his gn s/o telling him that they can't sleep in the same bed as him because they will cling onto him like a koala bear in their sleep?

‘Don’t be ridiculous sugar, I’d love me a clingy koala bear.’ Boothill said cheekily before his face became a somber. ‘And besides I won’t be able to feel you clinging onto me anyway.’ He adds with a shrug but you could tell it was something that deeply affected him.

If Boothill could make a deal with the gods to allow his body to feel the slightest touch, he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant he could feel you cling on to him like you claim you would.

But he wasn’t blessed with that opportunity just yet and until then he’d had to make do with the fact that the only part of his body that could feel was his face.

Only in his wildest dreams could it be achieved where he would be able to feel you pressed up against his side, face pressed against his chest as your limbs went whether they felt and locking him in, but he wouldn’t care because he could feel you.

He hated everything about his body and its inability to feel but you loved him nonetheless and made sure to express your affection however you could and he loved you all the more for it.

‘Well I’ll just have to sleep like this then.’ You said as you cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled his forehead so that it was pressed against your own and your noses were touching. ‘If that’s okay with you.’ You added in a whisper, looking into his eyes.

‘It’s more than okay with me sweetheart.’ He tells you softly, pressing his face further into your hold the moment your thumbs caressed under his eyes. ‘It’s more than okay.’ He repeats, feeling himself melt further into your touch when your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

He was in heaven, he must be. Was all he think as he drifted of to sleep, the lingering warmth of your hands guided him to the land of dreams where you would be there, waiting for him with outstretched arms.

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mellowsaturns · 1 year

Text

for you, anything

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

warnings: fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

wc: 900

—

After spending years and years fighting to survive a cordyceps apocalypse and tolerating a totalitarian government regime, you were no stranger to hardship. But it seemed like one thing has finally gotten to you, something that had you weak and bedridden for days now, something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it happened—you had managed to catch a common cold.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the combination of a sore throat, the inability to breathe, the stuffy nose and constant chills was making you feel awful.

The door opens and on a normal day, you would’ve been alert and ready for any potential intruders but you had no energy left and besides, you knew who it was just by the creaks of the floorboard.

You peek out from the corner of your eyes and Joel was leaning against the wall at the end of your bed, looking at you in pity.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pulling the thin blanket over your head.

That garnered a small chuckle from him. “Didn’t even say anything,” he said.

“You didn’t need to,” you murmured.

Feeling the bed dip with his pressure, he pulled the cover away. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” you replied as he brought his hand up to feel your forehead. “I can feel a major headache forming,” you added with a pout.

“Poor baby,” he cooed.

You gave him a weak punch in the arm. “You dick, if you’re here to make fun of me just leave.”

He snickered for a bit, clearly enjoying this before mellowing. “Here,” he said, handing you a paper bag you didn’t even know he was holding.

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion you took a peek inside. “Joel,” you gasped, “How did you manage to get these?”

Because inside the bag were different envelopes of white pills and packets of powdered electrolytes, everything you needed to help you get through a cold—probably way past its expiration date, but still, these were highly prized. You would have had to work months just to get enough rations for these items. And Joel just handed you these…

“Are you seriously questioning my skills?”

You scoffed. “No. But you really didn’t have to get all these for me. I would have gotten better with time.” And you know that he knows it too, but he still got these things for you because he knew it would help alleviate the pain even if it was for a little bit. And no matter how much he downplays it, you know how hard it must’ve been for him to get these items. You know because you’re in this business with him.

You couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips. “But… Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.” For always taking care of me.

He hummed and looked away, embarrassed at the gratitude you were giving him. Getting up, he headed to the living room and grabbed you a bottle of water.

“Let me,” he offered, before placing the bottle on your bedside and helping you sit straight. He popped the medicine onto your palm and you swallowed them down. And maybe it was the placebo effect but you were feeling better already—or maybe it was just the fact that Joel was here.

Sometimes, he really was the best medicine.

Suddenly, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Here.”

You frowned in confusion before a surprised expression spread all over. “Joel…” you whispered.

Turning the package in your hand, you examined its content and the slight wrinkles of the plastic. He had managed to find you a bag of those hard fruity candies that you once loved when the world wasn’t in ruins—something you had forgotten until now. Something meaningless you told him all those years ago when you first got to know each other and reminisced about the good old days.

You wanted to cry. He went through all this effort just to make your life a little easier and joyful when you know it made his life a little harder.

When you looked up at him, he gave you a shy smile. “Thought it might make you happy.”

You were beaming. And if you weren’t sick, you’d kiss him.

He started taking off his shoes when you stopped him. “Joel, I’m sick.”

He scoffed, as if you said something absurd. “Move over,” he grunted, hogging the spot next to you and getting underneath the covers.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I kinda miss this you know,” you whispered. Because even though you were wrapped in his jacket he gave you a few days ago, in which he insisted you wear because your blanket was too thin, it just wasn’t the same.

He made a noise in agreement and minutes later, he was snoring.

It’s been three days since you caught a cold, hence, three days since you’ve been fully in his presence. It only occurred to you now that he didn’t stay away because he was scared of catching it, but that he spent all that time working and doing what he does best. All because of you—all for you.

All you could do was admire him as moonlight gently graced the features of his face.

When you got better, you’d give him that kiss he deserved.

#self indulgent bc i am sick and feel awful #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x you

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nyanggk · 9 months

Text

PART OF THE JOB — p. sh

PAIRING idol park sunghoon x mental care captain reader

SYNOPSIS as a member of a famous kpop boy group, park sunghoon is at the age where his harmones are at their peak. in a fit to calm and satisfy these urges, the company deems you, the head of enhypen's mental care team, as completely capable of soothing him without developing feelings. well, that was the plan.

GENRE(S) smut, mutual pining

WARNING brat!sunghoon, some dialogues/words can be really rude or insulting, sexual content; loss of virginity, dom-sub dynamics (sub!sunghoon x dom!reader), hand job, unprotected vanilla sex.

if you are sensitive to any of these topics, please refrain from reading as I will not entertain any asks that contain your inability when it comes to reading warnings and having common sense.

WC 3k+

NOTE sorry I've been reading too much gojo satoru au's iykyk

you've been working at hybe for quite some time now. soon, after working for a solid year, you were promotwd as the head of enhypen's mental care team that supports and helps deal with the artists' health. having worked in the same company as the famous kpop star park sunghoon for months now as his mental care person, meant that you were familiar with him in every way.

your job is to offer a listening ear to them and provide a rational solution to their problems, one that'd be possible to do as an idol.

many idols have expressed a variety of their concerns and their worries, varying from lack of self esteem to feeling mentally drained— all of which, you were able to provide a solve. so, when enhypen's park sunghoon peeked his head past the entrance of your office door and told you that lately, he feels as if he's sexually frustrated and doesn't know what to do or who to approach but you, you weren't all too surprised.

it's common for adult artists like him who grew up in the spotlight to feel this way. they rarely had the time to explore their sexual fantasies and date when they were teens. the company had a protocol for these types of problems— if the artist comes and tells you about these types of concern, you would bring it to the higher ups and usually, they'd deal with it. but you're only left to rethink that protocol as you sit on the soft mattress inside the vip room that the company had booked for the two of you. the reason? you were to take park sunghoon's virginity.

the room is at the 107th floor of south korea's most well-known five star hotel and only low flying choppers would be able to see through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows of your hotel room. it provided you the great view of the horizon with seouls busy night life at the bottom. the shower trickling in the background serving as music while you wait anxiously for sunghoon to finish up.

you don't realise when he finishes, but eventually he does and his calling voice pulls you from your thoughts. "noona?"

you were about to reply, however, as you turn to the direction of his voice, you're stunned to see him standing there shirtless, only a towel wrapped around his torso, covering the nether side of his body. his pecks are prominent and so are his abs. the gleam of the low lighting provide shadows that seem to accentuate sunghoon's abs more. not to mention the fact that he's smirking at you now, watching as your eyes ran down his body. "y-yeah?"

oh, there's one thing you forgot to mention; park "spawn of the devil" sunghoon is— for the lack of better word, a fucking asshole.

"uhm, are we gonna start or...?" he scratches his head, but the pout he unconsciously makes while he pretends to think is so close to adorable, you almost want to punch his face. "you know, they did tell you to teach me, right? come on, noona, I'm not gonna cum by myself. it's the least you can do if you're not going to teach me. there's no pressure if you don't wanna though. I'm good at everything, probably even sex."

you're not even shocked by the nature of his voice anymore. sunghoon has always been like this. his mouth has no filter when the camera is off. he's just a two-faced little bitch that acts all cool and poise in front of his fans. only you know the real him. the most annoying, irritating, and infuriating sides of him? you've seen them all.

chuckling in disbelief at how you've managed to get yourself into this situation, you cross your arms over your chest, comment, "you know, this has got to be the most fucked up thing I've done since being employed."

of course, sunghoon isn't fazed at all by your insults and the fucker even has the audacity to laugh. "don't worry, noona. i think it's a bit weird too." he admits. "why you of all people?"

"but you know," he quirks, smilling at you deviously. "i'll let it slide if you give me a good time."

this fucking virgin—

you swear, only a few words more and your hand and his cheek are going to collide with each other. this man has the audacity to order you around when he's the one asking for a favour.

it's settled, you're going to make park sunghoon cry, and he's going to look so ruined you're going to make sure that by the end of it, sunghoon's face will be covered with pretty tears streaming down his face, skin beat red from exhaustion, from the heat of your bodies, and with snot running across the top of his lips. a pretty portrait of your victory. that'll make this all worth it.

sunghoon doesn't say a thing when your mood changes, an evil and plotting smirk coating your lips, he only looks at you with watchful eyes.

pushing him onto the bed, sunghoon puffs out a huff upon impact and looks at you with menacing eyes. you'll be caught dead if you admit the fact that he actually looks hot.

not even daring to take your eyes away from him, you grip on the hem of your shirt before taking it off in one go. you almost laugh when you hear sunghoon gasp but luckily, you managed to carch yourself— if he hears you, it's going to be another round of his foolish antics to try and save himself from embarrassment.

without a word, you climb up his lap, ghosting your lips on top of his. "you're not the boss tonight, you hear me?" you ask, raising a brow. "you do whatever i say because you're the inexperienced prick who needs my advice."

as if in a trance, sunghoon nods. "for a virgin, you're fucking cocky, you know that? you're so annoying and you're so egotistic i just want to rip that smirk off your face everytime you say shit."

"for a loser like you, you sure talk a lot about how good you’ll be in bed." you spit out and you look do mean and angry that the boy just can't help but submit.

sunghoon almost chokes on a moan when you suddenly grip his hair, continuing your verbal torment on him ans effectively bringing his attention back on you. "you talk like that to other people at work? hm?"

gulping, he answers. but his voice betrays him. "n-no."

sunghoon thought he could stay composed, you're the person he's been picking on for so long after all. it'd be so embarassing if he makes it painfully obvious how much your words affect him but one grind of your hips against his boner turns him to mush and suddenly, all his secret intentions are revealed.

"i'm gonna have so much fun with you."

his long awaited first kiss is stolen by you and despite wanting to rile you up more and cover up his desire, he can't, as the moment your lips touch, sunghoon is diving into you without a second thought.

"m-more..."

perhaps you were mistaken. is this the same sunghoon or was he replaced a few moments ago? where'd the cockiness go? you're not complaining but your definitely going to tease him about it.

petting his hair down, you coo in mockery. "the park sunghoon is asking for more? are you getting all needy for me, sunghoon?"

"fuck you." tease him and he'll spit out insults at you— not that you ever found them offensive though because no matter how hard sunghoon tries to hide it, you already found out his secret. it's true; he's a fucking loser— a virgin at that, who can't control his body when he knows he's going to get pussy.

"are you trynna play hard to get right now?" you chuckle. "being a brat won't get you anywhere, sunghoon. all that talk? it's only going to get you blue balls and punishments."

you don't give him the chance to talk back with lies as you mold your lips together harder, fiercer, with your tongue caressing the sharpness of his teeth. sunghoon doesn't hesitate letting you inside, even offering you a delicate moan. his eyes are half open in bliss and his cheeks are ten times hotter than how they were before. out of pure want, you pinch his ears, smilling into the kiss when you feel the hotness of his body spread even there.

pulling away, sunghoon chases your lips, but can only whine childishly when you duck past his jaw, likely because he wants to keep on kissing you.

what a wimp.

his whines of disapproval gets cut off by himself when you lick a bold stripe down from his collarbone all the way up to his jaw, kissing and sucking on the skin. you take it a step further by spreading your thighs further apart and digging your clothed pussy onto his bulge, making sunghoon scream.

"ah! noona...!" sunghoon whines with head thrown back, allowing you to cover more of his skin with your kisses. eventhough his head faces the ceiling, his eyes are miraculously still focused on you no matter what.

you continue grinding into his pants and each thrust has sunghoon panting with need, falling into the pool of pleasure you've created. he raises his hips up to meet yours, wanting to feel your heat better but the stupid fabric of your pants are preventing him from doing so.

"is it good, hoon?" you're getting cocky and you're all too aware that at this point, you're using sunghoon to satisfy your own needs. it's not about teaching him anymore. it's about getting your revenge and whatever it is you want from him.

though, sunghoon doesn't seem to mind.

"yeah..." he trails off, chest heaving. "it's so fucking good."

clicking your tongue, you raise your hips only to dig them ruthlessly onto his pants, earning a scream-like groan from him.

"you know, sunghoon—"

"call me hoon." he says, butting in.

you roll your eyes before continuing. "you know, sunghoon. i really don't appreciate the way you talk to me."

"you're. so. ungrateful." with each word, you rub yourself on him harder than before.

and his mind spins. sunghoon's body is on fire and if he was any more conscious, he would know that yours is too. you're just as affected by your actions as he is— but he doesn't need to know that.

sunghoon chuckles. "you like it though."

damn it, you spoke too soon. the two-faced bastard fooled you into thinking that he's gone dumb with pleasure— which is partially true in sunghoon's opinion.

irritated, you push him down the bed, his back hitting the mattress. "shut it."

"why?" he asks, the teasing smile on his lips never leaving. "come on, admit it. you like it when i talk like this. you love my mouth."

huffing, you unbotton your pants, taking them off hurriedly along with your underwear in one go. "really? we'll have to try it out next time then, don't we?"

"definitely." he answers before lifting his hips up to help you take his towel off.

there lays sunghoon's dick pretty and erect— you'll never tell him that though, his ego is just going to sky rocket if he finds out you like the way his dick looks, how you can tell just from looking at him that he's heavy and that his dick is thick enough to the point where your thumb and index finger won't meet if you wrap them around him.

"not bad, park." you comment, taking his dick in your hands and pumping it. you press the palm of your hand on his head and sunghoon starts moaning like crazy, body suddenly jolting as bolts of pleasure evade his senses. he tries his hardest to rub the whole of his tip on your hand but he only gets to do so much when you're restricting him by sitting on his lap.

"come on, yn." he moans, eyes begging you to give him more. "i know you think I'm pretty. you don't have to deny it. i know you."

ignoring his latter statement, you commnent on his lack of respect for you instead. "dropping the honorifics now, are we? finally, you're showing your true colors, park."

"i don't think so though. I've been showing you who i am this whole time."

you agree. "that's true."

it's addicting— he's addicting, and you're greedy enough to want to hear him louder, you want him heaving and his voice straining by the end of it. his dick is now coated with his own essence and it quenches the more you rub it. sunghoon is beyond into the pleasure now as his dick just can't stop pouring out precum. his dick is as pretty as it's owner— and so is his voice. the way sunghoon moans and groans put you in an unwanted frenzy.

for a second, you lose your control and let out an amused smile, giving his tip a hard tap. "cute."

shit. the compliment slipped out of nowhere before you could even catch it.

already knowing how sunghoon is going to react, "shut up." you say, trying to avoid looking at his face but at the roof of your eye, you can see the shit-eating grin sunghoon has on his face.

having sex with sunghoon puts him in such a different light. his cockiness and remarks almost seem attractive. the way his chest rises and falls all the while he teases you for complimenting him. if you two were where you were before, you'd be rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to fuck him more.

lining his tip with your pussy, you look at sunghoon and decide that though he's an asshole, you aren't going to be one by just sticking his dick in and using it how you like it. it's his first time not yours. if he was any kinder, you'd actually be careful and soothe him into everything.

but you know sunghoon. he's a big boy. he can take a little roughness. in fact, you're sure that this is what he prefers; he wants to play. he wants to have fun and he's content with this because deep inside, he knows you care.

"so," you prep, running his swollen tip along the valley of your vagina, collecting your juice on the way. "you ready to lose your virginity, pretty boy?"

sunghoon closes his eyes as if he's in pain and you lean forward to caress his arms in concern, thinking that something was wrong when you see him gripping the sheets fiercely. "fuck yes! hurry!"

rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you pinch his arms and he flinches in pain. he smiles with that charming heart throb boyish grin of his— the one that makes your heart flutter.

bitting his lip to contain his giggles, he clarifies. "i'm serious! put it in, please, noona."

you shake your head but comply to his request nonetheless. this boy... what're you doing to me?

as soon as sunghoon's tip gets enveloped inside your walls, sunghoon's mouth hangs open, eyes rolling back just like his head. his brows crash together and you can't seem to take your eyes away from the pure ecstasy painted across his pretty face. never have you seen such a perfect face like his and now, it's become even prettier with the continuous whining for more leaving his mouth.

"s-shit!" he screams and you can see the veins on his neck appear.

realising he's probably experiencing an overwhelming amount of pleasure right now, you lean forward with your chest pressed softly on top of his. your forarm is placed beside sunghoon's head in order to hold yourself up while the other is holding his dick steady as you slowly ease him inside you.

stray tears pool on the ends of sunghoon's eyes before finally falling down across his cheek. out of pure want and care, you kiss the line of stray tears away, comforting him.

"shh, it's okay." you hush, pecking the corner of his mouth. "you're okay. you're almost there, hoon." you cheer on.

you were about to offer him another innocent kiss beside his mouth but sunghoon had other plans. turning his head, he makes it so that your lips clashed at the center of his instead.

"kiss me." shocked, you hear sunghoon's muffled voice due to your lips being pressed against his. "want you to kiss me... please."

choosing to ignore the beating of your heart, you do as he asks and kiss him, effectively helping the boy distract himself from the overwhleming feeling of being encased in your warmth.

as you kiss, you inch sunghoon's length inside your pussy, retracting his cock from time to time in order to help you adjust to his thick girth. once you're finally sitting on his cock, you start moving in small and slow motions, your only objective is to ease him into it before fully giving him your all.

after some time, the greedy bastard starts asking for more. so you comply, not because he told you to— it was because he told you to, but because you were getting impatient and wanted to make yourself feel good already.

"t-that's it." sunghoon stutters, watching the space wherein your bodies connect. "just like that. love the way you bounce on me, noona. makes me feel so hot. i love it so much. you're so good to me...." he babbles on.

sweat trickles down your forehead as you ride his dick. leaning forward, you guide sunghoon's arms towards your chest, cupping your boobs in both hands. sunghoon massages your soft plush skin, wathcing them with his mouth hung open as they jiggle in his palm everytime you bounce on his dick.

"you're turning stupid on me, park." you chuckle, clicking your tongue.

mirroring you, sunghoon grins and answering you as if it was basic knowledge. "of course I'd go stupid. it's you."

there it is again. that weird feeling in your chest that makes your heart skip a beat. you don't know how to feel nor do you know what to say as you're not stupid. you've studied human behaviour and psychology for so long. it's literally your fortè. and to be honest, it doesn't really need a professional to conclude that sunghoon has feelings for you.

or maybe you're completely wrong and not only is sunghoon a complete jack ass but he's also a player.

so you do the only rational thing,you ignore it and keep doing what it is you were meant to be doing; fucking sunghoon, because that's what you're assigned to do. not catch feelings.

"i'm so close, noona." he screams hurriedly, eyes frantically looking at you and his arms snaking hastily to catch your hands, gripping onto them oh so tightly. "come with me, yeah?"

you roll you eyes at him. "so many requests."

"you're supposed to make them come true, aren't you?" he quirks back shakily, trying to get his mind off of coming.

"i'm not your fairy god mother, park." you state in faux annoyance yet you speed you movements up as your orgasm approaches. eventhough you answered his snarky comeback with one of your own, you still do as told.

"i'm not a-asking you to be." his voice stutters, the pleasure building up to the point where his voice starts to quiver. he's so close. one more hard thrust from you and you have him bolting forward, incasing you in his embrace so as to ground himself, screaming as he comes. his body jolts as the waves pool out of him and he grips onto your body tighter, teeth leaving a prominent mark on your shoulder as he bites down on it.

all of it mixed with the feelings of his warm cum painting your wet walls send you over the edge and before you knew it, you were convulsing in his hold, letting out a loud moan that vibrates from your throat.

"i'm not askkng you to be my god fairy or whatever it is you called it." he rolls his eyes, too tired to try to remember but not tired enough to let you go. his mouth is still on your skin and you can feel his saliva coating it but you can't seem to find the will to pull away, actually letting him nibble and suck on your skin as he pleases. "i'm asking you to be mine."

hi lolz im back T^T I realize that I haven't posted a hoon fic in a while— well I do have hoon fics they're just unlisted (don't remind me of them I CANT FIND THE MOTIVATION TO DO THEM AGAIN) but anyways hope you guys enjoy this one. for some reason, hoon reminds me of satoru. like, their personalitiessss they're both somewhat egotistic and they always tease ppl!!!

so ye, that's where I got the character inspo from ♡ don't spoil jjk for me I'm literally refraining from reading the manga just so I don't get any spoilers eventhough I badly wanna know what happens!!!

also, this is unedited :P don't sue me. I'll come back and fix this soon enough.

#💭｡: ﾟ꒰ mirai writes ꒱ ♡#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen sub #sub enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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