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roturo · 3 months

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ᯓ★DASH ╰⪼┆MMM!, I JUST WANNA CONTINUE MY PACE!

⤹ featuring: jjk men and motorcycles!, smut, pussy slapping, size kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, jealousy, marking, breeding, masturbation, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms- gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, megumi fushiguro, sukuna ryomen..

⤹ next up!: bad news! (feb 2024) ft. jjk men suffering from reader having a low sex drive, ow!

february event! -`♡´-

gojo satoru

Sounds of skin slapping filled the room, he swears he was so close to cum for the second time in the afternoon. You? Maybe like the fifth? Sixth? He doesn’t remember how many times he ate you out– preferring to “skip lunch and have dessert” instead.

The sounds of motorcycles and talking were silenced thanks to your moans. Not like he needed to hear the other people throwing shit at him. Probably just jealous that he always wins this type of spontaneous street races.

He felt that familiar tingly feeling shocking his body from his hips to his neck, feeling how you were squeezing his cock he could tell you were close too, rings from his phone tried to win the sounds of his groans and moans. Notifications coming out from what you could catch to see– Geto asking where he was, that they needed him right now just so they could start the race. People were complaining of favoritism and how they shouldn’t let Satoru compete anymore.

“Sa- ‘toru, the- the race.” Taking breaths while trying to tell Gojo you were out of time and should stop– but all you could pronounce were small ‘ah, ahs~’ while he pounded behind you. “They can wait baby, just cum f’me one last time, yeah?”

It was like a ritual for him to fuck you everytime before a race. Taking it as his “luck key”, even though he didn’t need it to win, he just accustomed himself to destress before racing. Not that you complain.

“They- they already know who’s goin’ to win anyway- shit- you feel so good babe” A specific thrust threw you over the edge and made your vision blurry, losing yourself in the feeling while Satoru was reaching his high too while he continued pounding behind you. “atta’ girl– there we go… yeah, take it f’me”

geto suguru

Don’t ask me how, but this man would love to see you riding him while he’s on top of the motorcycle.

Small tired jumps in search of release while you stabilize yourself with the handlebar while Geto’s thrusts sync with yours. Caging your small body on his while he also stabilized himself by moving his hands to the handlebar, feeling the motorcycle tremble and having to put one of his feet down to stop it from moving too much.

You were too lost in the pleasure you wouldn’t even notice the white of his hands because of how hard he was gripping the handlebar, one of them moving to grip your waist instead, helping you get even deeper in his cock. All he could see was the connection between the two of you, his back pressed to yours.

“Ahh Sshit baby- S’perfect f’me–” He had to bite your shoulder to not embarrass himself and moan louder than you. His hand on your waist moving towards your core while he starts giving small slaps on your clit. The small pain he was inflicting aroused you more– taking a mental note that you would most likely forget to buy a new leather saddle for him. The both of you would already reach your highs and he would stop thrusting, making you cockwarm him, but he wouldn’t stop slapping your pussy. Loving your body reaction while he chuckled everytime you trembled on top of him each time he gave a hard slap.

Your clit was hard and pulsing because of how much he slapped it, your arousal wetting Geto’s thighs when you came again just by slapping your pussy. Feeling his hard cock inside of you he wouldn’t move and preferred to continue playing with you.

nanami kento

It all started with an innocent act. You sitting on his bike while admiring it— delicately touching it, your doe eyes and small body compared to his did something inside him.

You just looked so… pretty sitting on his bike. Your hips rolling trying to find a comfortable position in this big bike of his– remembering the same movement when he’s inside of you. Trying to pleasure yourself on his big cock making an appearance on your tummy– not letting you touch yourself or him, you just had to cum by your movements and his cock.

He loved it. Watching your body move and using him as a sex toy– but for you it was a punishment, not being able to touch him, or to feel him in the right way stressed you a lot– making it harder to cum.

He loses the mental battle on his head and now finds himself between your thighs while you balance yourself trying to grip whatever part of his bike.Your legs caging his head even deeper in your center, he never felt so… needy for something. Being so ‘patient and tolerant’ flew across the window the moment he saw you end his bike next to each other.

Maybe because it was the two things he most adored in the world? You first, his bike second. But it doesn’t matter what was the cause, but now he’s sure the effect will be him sitting on his bike while you ride him.

megumi fushiguro

You thought it was funny? You know how easily stressed Megumi becomes when a race is coming. He’s a perfectionist, and really ambitious. So he could never let himself lose, not when he has a reputation to sustain now.

He needs to feel enough. Even though you always tell him he’s more than enough and should treat his hobby as it is: a hobby– he should take it lightly and enjoy it rather than making it something that would hurt him in any kind of way.

But the moment he saw you giggling next to one of his ‘rivals’ he’s sure something inside his brain magically turned on and made him feel an anger that he couldn’t quite describe. He trusts you. But seeing you next to someone else rather than him really bothered him.

He doesn’t consider himself as a jealous boyfriend– but you were just so perfect for him that he was afraid of losing you in any kind of way. He wouldn't admit that kind of sadness and insecurity inside him to anyone, he prefers to disguise it as rage. That didn’t quit the fact that he’s jealous right now though.

He obviously won the race, the moment you went to hug him and congratulate him you knew something was wrong. The way his body reacted to yours wasn’t normal, tough and stiff, like he was almost forcing himself to hug you lovely when all he wanted it was to fuck you infront of everybody and show them you were his.

Maybe that’s an idea for another day.

But right now when the both of you got home, he told you not to get off his bike. You were confused- maybe he’s taking you somewhere else?

Wrong.

He brought himself a chair, placed it so he was facing the right side of it. All he did was say two words.

“ride it.”

He pointed at the bike with a movement of his chin, your face showed confusion, but he was applying the silent treatment. He never did it to you– so that’s how you knew to do what he says before making it worse.

So that’s how you find yourself naked on his bike, trying to do the best you can to cum for a second time while Megumi watches, sitting on the chair jerking off his cock–. the needy mushroom tip showing how close he was, his balls visible swollen because of how he was edging himself, making sure “to save as much cum to dump it inside of you and mark you as his”

Breed you like an animal the moment you wet his bike again, leaving marks that would last days, just so the other fuckers know to not get near anything that it’s his.

sukuna ryomen

He would ignore the bike tbh.

This man wouldn’t care where he is, the moment he saw you next to his bike he knew he had to fuck you– he knew you had to mark it with your arousal caused thanks to him and that’s how he would remember you even far away from you.

But let’s be real now, this man would fuck you the moment he feels blood near his cock, it doesn’t matter anything else than you and his cock. Just pounding inside you, breeding you, and training you while you ride him saying “it’s the same shit if you want to ride a bike”

Not that he'st wrong, but you wouldn’t have a dick touching your g-spot everytime and something overstimulating your clit. But basically the same– yeah…

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

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Lovin' You Right ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Your new badass neighbor won't leave you alone. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

Pairing: new neighbor!jungkook x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, e2l, neighbors, oneshot/drabble

Word Count: 2,031

Warnings: cussing, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, missionary, praising, rough s*x, d*rty talk, sp*nking overst*mulation, reader's first-time, sl*t calling once, oc a bit of an uptight b at first, little manhandling, jk rides a motorcylce, jk giving it to oc straight, a very wet date bc MV made me do it

Now Playing: seven by jjk

A/N: no explanation, this is just what i thought of when i listened to jungkook's song 'seven'. Hope you enjoy! 💞

He looked like a real hard ass with all the black leather he wore, arms covered in ink, and chains hanging from his neck. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home.

He was your next-door neighbor and he rode a mean motorcycle. It was loud as fuck and woke you up about ten times during the night. And every time he saw you in the hallway? He'd have this shit-eating grin on, like he wanted to devour you whole.

"Think our mail got switched up again," he said, handing you a pile of letters. "Gonna need to talk to the mail man or somethin'."

"Oh geez," you replied, doing your best to avoid eye contact of more than three seconds–his eyes were just a little too piercing. "Thanks." You shoved the letters under your arm and carried on your way. It was laundry day and you desperately needed to have clean clothes.

"Hey wait," he kept on your trail. "How's your day goin'?" He rushed ahead to open the laundry room door, allowing you to go first.

Look at him trying to be a gentleman, hmph. You held your head high and walked through the door. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

Like an itch that won't go away, Jungkook followed you as much as he could. No matter how much you scratched, he'd be right there, burning holes in the back of your neck. He'd watch you dump your clothes in the washer, walk you to your car whenever you needed to go anywhere, hell he even helped you carry in groceries when given the chance.

"What do you want Jeon?" You finally popped the question. He didn't look like he was simply "being generous" or "doing his part to make the world better". He was bumming around for something, he had to be.

"Go out with me," he simply quipped, knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes, he was too old for beating around the bush and he was fed up with you giving him the silent finger. Not once have you told him to beat it straight to his face so he's gonna shoot his shot. "Yes or no __? You know I like you, why else would I be bugging the crap out of you?"

"'Cause you want to fuck me then leave me for your other neighbor, the one who lives on the other side of your door." You crossed your arms against your chest. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He narrowed his eyes, tiniest of smirks on his overly gorgeous, no good, lying face. " No you're right. I do wanna fuck that pretentious attitude you got. It's been pissing me off for weeks."

He took a step towards you, caging you between himself and your kitchen island. "What gives you the right to be this bitchy huh? You act like you know everything there is to know about me, but you're too damn stubborn to open your eyes and see it's all a complete farce." He leaned his head forward to graze his lips along the edge of your ear. "I don't know what little girl fairytales you've been taught but I'm not the monster you need to watch out for....and prince charmings don't exist, princess."

You shoved your hands against his chest but he grips them tight in his own. "We don't have to go out anymore. I see what you really think of me."

He released your wrist and headed for the door. "It's really a shame," he hollered before leaving. "You're really beautiful."

God you hated him.

For the next week, Jungkook was no where in sight. He didn't come see you, he didn't bring you anything, he went completely M.I.A. It was a breath of fresh air but by the second week, you wondered where he was and if he was okay. He did drive a motocylce afterall, maybe he got in an accident and you didn't know.

You stared at his door, hesistant to knock in fear if him actually being in there. He'd likely laugh you off when he saw you, so you purposefully picked a time he'd most likely be out and about anyway. You hated that you kinda knew his schedule.

Jungkook quirked an amused brow at you when he finally cranked his door open. He was wearing light washed jeans and no under shirt, his pecs were on full display. "What can I do for you princess?"

"Nothing," you spat, definitely not looking below his thick neck. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid yet."

"Checking up on me huh?" He put an elbow on the door frame, eyes darkening. "That's sweet."

"Fuck off. You're healthy it seems so I'm gonna go check up on the other neighbors now. I think Mrs. Baker set the fire alrms off the other day so I need to make sure she's oka—"

You're arm was yanked back as soon as you moved to turn around. "Fuck you're bullshit __. You missed me didn't ya?"

"Not much to miss Jeon." You're such a liar, Jungkook muttered to himself. The whole world could see you were having a conversation with his pecs this whole time—too damn timid to look him in the eyes.

"Shut up and say you'll go out with me already. I'm tired of waiting for your ass to come around."

You swallowed your pride and there you were, watching Jungkook splash in every single puddle. He just had to propose going out the one day it was storming out.

"Wipe that sour look off your face!" He stomped in the water, drenching you entirely.

You shrieked at the sudden coldness. Big droplets of water soaked your face, clothes, shoes, everything. "You're such a child Jungkook!"

He ignored you and wrapped his muscular arms around you. The white tank he wore was drenched as well. "You're having fun, admit it."

You scoffed. The only reason you agreed to go out was to show him how ridiculous it would be for the two of you to go out. You and Jungkook were likely the most incompatible people for each other. While he was out riding his bike with heavy metal blasting, you were watching the latest law drama in you're pajamas. It was only a matter of time before this expirament of his would show him the true results of your intermingling.

"C'mon," he took you by the hand and dragged you through the rain. "Just be in the moment __. Let the rain shower over you and be free!" He grabbed your other hand and began spinning you both in circles.

"I'm going to get dizzy."

"Then only look at me. Look at me and don't worry about what's around us. Focus on a single subject and you won't get dizzy." He pulled you by the waist, forcing you to stare straight at him.

He was right. The dizziness went away but your knees feel like jelly.

"What's holding you back?" Jungkook smiled and it was the most genuine smile you'd ever seen. "Look at me __. Look at us. What do you see?"

As you stood there in the pouring rain, a pair of deep, boy-like eyes locked with yours. This was him, the thought dawned on you, a soft-hearted guy who wasn't afraid to open himself up.

You felt a pang of guilty settle in your gut–you weren't the better person like you so believed. You're closed off, comfortable in your space. Skeptical of anyone and everyone. You were wrong to see Jungkook as a careless, arrogant, motorcycle thug and it was a hard pill for you to swallow.

"I don't know." You replied softly, shivering at the faintest touch of his fingers supporting on your back. "I'm sorry, I don't know Jungkook."

"Well I see something worth sticking around for, rain or shine. I think I've become an idiot for you and I don't think that bothers you as much as you let on. You sought me out after I gave you space and I've literally been playing in the puddles this whole date and you haven't ditched me yet. So if you want some more of this, I'll give it to you with open hands, open heart, and I'll make sure to be loving you right." He winked before finishing. "As many days as you'd like."

Jungkook didn't give you much time to respond before he pressed his lips against your own. He made sure to go gentle, barely brushing them over your lips.

You understood immediately–if you wanted this, you were going to have to be the one to seal the deal.

And you did, kissing him with full force. You hoped you wouldn't regret this in the morning.

Ever since that night, you and Jungkook had started going out. It was slow at first but six months later, you and he finally made your relationship official.

"Shh," he cooed above you. He was a bit of a blur due to the pitch darkness of the room but you felt him everywhere. He was straddling your naked sides, praising your body like it was art. "Doing so good for me baby, making me so hard–fuck."

It was your first real-time being with a man and being your new boyfriend, Jungkook made sure to be extra attentive. "Kook," you moaned, back arching and pussy throbbing from where he had recently entered you.

He dragged his thick length out of you before slamming back in, a little rougher than the previous thrust. "That's it," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me hear those pretty moans. Been dying to hear them since I first saw you in those cute little sweat shorts you like walking to the laundry room in."

"Faster Kook, please." You gripped his muscular back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. You needed him lodged so far in your gut that you'd literally see stars. "Plea–please."

"Shit baby, if you start begging this early I can't promise you I won't go completely feral and I don't want to hurt you."

"I want all of you Jungkook," you said. "You said you'd love me right, so do it." And that's all it took for your boyfriend to lock down on your waist with firm hands, pounding into you with all he had.

You tried looking up at him, wanting to look him dead in the eye as he fucked into you but you couldn't handle it. He was dripping with sweat, his muscles were tense, veins were protruding out of neck, and his teeth were clamped shut. He was focused and he knew what he was doing. You on the other hand were a complete opposite story.

"Jung-Jungkook, oh god, fuck!" You screamed incoherently. His big cock reached every inch inside you, stretching you out with every snap of his hips. Never in your life had you had so much pleasure in a short amount of time. And embarrasing it may be, you were definitely going to come far before the usual.

"Look at you fucking falling apart already. Too much for your tight little pussy to handle isn't it? Well you begged for this, and now you're gonna take this cock like a big girl aren't ya," he barked, landing a sharp slap to your ass.

"Shit!" You yelped, clenching around him automatically. "Gonna come Kook...please-please. It's my first time I-"

You came without finishing the plead, sticky white substance ran down your thighs and onto the sheets. Jungkook's wet length continues to move in you, pushing some of your cum back in. The erotic squelching makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Mhm yeah." He planted a trail of rough kisses up your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin. "And now you're gonna come again, and again, and again til you're dripping with my cum. I'm gonna then eat you out while my fingers play with your clit. But congrats on your first-time baby, because from here on out, you're gonna become my slut , and I'll be fucking you seven days a week."

A/N: written a little different than usual but yeah...haha idk. Tysm for reading and lmk your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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stargirlrchive · 4 months

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— BSF BIKER!SIMON

cw: simon riley x female reader, biker!simon, v slight smut at the very end but not fully, simon is possessive and jealous (meow) ((i will eat him)), also the way reader yearns for him is so real, likes she’s me — inspo post

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

GENERAL MASTERLIST

You heard Simon before you saw him, well you heard his bike. The loud revving of the engine, growing louder and more frequent the longer it took for you to come out of the restaurant. Your heels clacked loudly behind you, your steps quickening as you sent your date another apologetic smile.

Fifteen minutes prior, Simon had texted you, telling you he needed you. You had been unable to text back, not wanting to seem rude, but your date sent you an understanding smile as you picked up your phone after the constant buzzing.

Your eyes quickly skimming the messages and anxiety embedded into your stomach the more frantic Simon’s messages got.

You’re out right now?

Who are you with?

I need to see you.

I’m going to get you.

I’m on my way.

You felt your heart lurch in your throat as you checked his location. He was only about four minutes out and your fingers prickled with nerves.

The soft voice of the man across the table from you brought you out of your spiral. “Everything alright?”

You forced a smile onto your face, nodding, “A friend of mine-”

The loud roar of the motorcycle had you tensing, standing up quickly as you looked towards the entrance of the nice restaurant, “I-I’ll be right back, I’m sorry-”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, bolting towards the door.

You nearly tripped over your heels as you tried to get to Simon faster, the words leaving you in an exasperated breath, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You couldn't get the words out fast enough, your brows pinching as you looked over him, looking for anything that looked wrong but everything seemed fine.

Your brows furrowing together further as he barked out a laugh, even with his visor on you could feel the way his eyes were skimming over your body. “Why d’nt you ever wear anything like this when we go out?”

“Simon-”

“Get on.”

“What?”

His thick fingers reached out to gently cup your elbow, pulling you closer to him as his fingers softly rubbed across your exposed skin, distracting you. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m on a date.”

His fingers stilled on your arm, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was frowning. You felt the nerves wrapping around your throat at his silence. That silly part of you that longed for him wanted to soothe him, and you inched closer.

His fingers dropped from your elbow and you instantly missed the warmth, your fingers moved and popped his visor open.

His eyes were darker than normal, upset, and warmth licked at your belly. You hated that he could do this to you, that he could warrant such reactions from you with just one look.

“Get on.” This time, his tone was anything but playful. Just a thick growl as he handed you the helmet that was reserved just for you.

“I can’t!”

“I will go in there myself and tell him you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the night.”

You suppressed the whimper that wanted to fall from your mouth, arousal pooling between your thighs as you tried so desperately not to cave.

But his eyes softened, his gloved fingers inching closer and tangling with yours as he pulled you into him, “C’mon, love. I got a view I’ve been wanting to show you.”

You barely registered that you had agreed, only when he was helping you into your helmet and then your thighs were spread wide to cage around his legs. Your palms flat against his abdomen as you held on close.

And you should’ve felt guilty when he revved his bike again, as if showing off, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his gloved fingers gently squeezed your knee and he was off before you could think too much about what you were doing to that poor man that was waiting for you at the restaurant.

The two of you drove for what felt like hours, the cold nip of the wind on your skin felt surprisingly mild with your body pressed flush against his.

He smelled so good, like cedar and musk, and cigarettes. So incredibly Simon, and you inched even closer to him. Your fingers gently rubbed against his stomach as he drove faster and faster.

When you finally arrived at the view, Simon helped you off the bike, laughing quietly as you huffed about how your heels were gonna get ruined. Both of your helmets came off and you tried to fix your hair as best you could.

A soft noise of surprise left your mouth as he scooped you up, sitting you back firmly against the seat of his bike.

“No ruined heels on my account.”

The air around the two of you felt different, as if the two of you were just silently orbiting around the other until one decided to veer off course and crash.

His fingers didn’t move from your hips as he towered over you, “What are you doing, Simon?”

Rough fingers gently dipped into your waistband, softly gliding against the lacy material against your hip. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.”

Your breath hitched staring up at him, his lashes kissing his cheeks as he stared down at your lips. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, your body feeling alight with desire and warmth.

The two of you had always toed on something that was more than friendship, but it had never felt like this. It had never been so glaringly obvious. His head dipped down and his lips ghosted over your own. Barely touching. Waiting.

When you didn’t back away, his lips were on yours the next instant. They were plump and softer than you could've ever imagined. His fingers digging into your hips as his mouth pressed firmly to yours. His tongue prying your lips open and familiarizing the feel with his tongue.

Your hands were everywhere, you didn't know where to touch him. They were first fisting at his shirt, then gripping the taut muscles on his arms, then tugging at his hair. He brought your hips towards the edge of his bike and pressed himself flush against you. Slowly grinding as his mouth moved down to your neck, nipping and kissing. Licking down the column of your throat as he pulled out desperate noises from your swollen lips.

His finger made its way into the waistband of your skirt, bunching up the material at your hips. His eyes focused on the pretty black lace that covered you from him, a deep growl ripping from his throat as his thumb pushed against your clit, “Hate that you wore this for him.”

Your hips bucked, and the shake of the bike under you reminded you of where you were. A soft laugh that mingled with a moan escaped you, “It’s not like you were asking to see them.”

He gave a soft pinch to your clit and you gasped, glaring up at him softly, “Thought it was pretty obvious.”

You whined as he slipped his fingers away from your cunt, his lips pressing against yours again as he mumbled, “As much as I want to take my time with you, anyone can show up.”

You felt dizzy as he turned you over, bending you over the seat of his bike. Your back arched as much as it could, feeling his hardened cock press against the swell of your ass.

“Next time.”

He pulled away and you could hear the sound of his zipper being drawn, his thick fingers pushing your panties to the side to run his cock against your messy folds.

He gave three taps to your clit before dragging the tip through your folds.

Your breath hitched as he gently pushed forward. His thick cock spearing into you. The excitement evident in his voice, “Yeah, next time.”

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley x female reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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catfuyus · 17 days

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"Wanna have sex?"

"What?" You look up from your phone with wide eyes and a mouth open full of shock. You were just mindlessly scrolling through your phone a minute ago with Mikey laying on his stomach across your bed beside you. Everything was the same as it's always been, so what's going on?

He's looking up at you with his chin resting atop his crossed arms. How long had he been staring at you? You thought he was scrolling through his phone.

"What?" He pouts innocently. "You said you were getting sex deprived. It's been what, two years?"

"So?" You can't keep the defensiveness out of your tone, or the heat of embarrassment from warming your face.

"You told everyone at dinner tonight that you were going crazy," he laughs as he slowly sits up, "and even thinking about having one night stands on a dating app."

"So?" You repeat.

"Well, I think I'd be a lot less risky than meeting up with strangers." He crawls closer to where you're seated until your back is pressed against your propped up pillows. His arms cage you in on either side, trapping you against the headboard. "I think I'd do a better job at pleasing you too."

Your face is unbearably hot and Mikey's face is too unbearably close. You've stared into his eyes before, but not like this. Not so close up, where the contact feels intimate and you can see that his pupils have dilated. Where your eyes drift down from the black abyss of his eyes to land on the perfectly soft curve of his lips.

Those lips of his curl into a smirk before he pulls away with a wry, "think about it."

He suddenly bounces off the bed, phone in hand, to leave your bedroom. Only the roar of his motorcycle downstairs signals to you that he's leaving for the day.

What just happened?

#manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #manjiro drabble #mikey x reader #tokrev mikey x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey sano x you #yes this is self indulgent but it’s also a short drabble so let’s not judge

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faetreides · 3 days

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modern!feyd thoughts? is he crazier than modern! coryo? i feel like modern feyd would be like a underground boxer or something

this ask is crazy because it’s so good. like i haven’t even considered modern!feyd before but the underground boxer element is 😋, went with the typical opposites attract hello kitty s/o trope again SORRY, mdni (AFAB reader)

Yeah something that like or mixed mma, i do imagine him in a more athletic field but it’d have to be one where he’s allowed to make a spectacle of being violent. The rookie that has a borderline demonic reputation because he’s so vicious. And sometimes he doesn’t even go into fights with winning being the first thing on his mind, he wants a good show as much as the audience does and he wants blood in whatever capacity he can get it.

He’s for sure crazier than Coryo, like lock them into a room together and Feyd’s skinning and deboning him like a fish. Still far removed from how he is in canon obviously, but i think that he does do the same extreme facial expressions during a match to psych his opponent out. Feyd wants to make it big, yes, but more so because he wants a bigger “stage” to have more people see him at his most raw and real.

But he stays because he knows no professional organization worth their salt would turn the other cheek when he loses control and kills his opponent. Not that that’s a common occurrence or anything, but the chance of it happening is never zero.

(His uncle definitely has a hand in the betting that goes on at his matches, and even places his own bets from time to time. Feyd’s resentment grows with every rigged match. He’s an unhinged freak with a penchant for blood lust, but he does still want to win at the end of the day when he’s done playing with his food)

You’re in the crowd for one of his matches. Attracted by the mystery and the taboo nature of what he does. You look nervous, rocking from side to side as your eyes follow every punch and dodge. You’re out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb in your tennis skirt and hello kitty necklace. There’s no date hanging on your arm or friend chatting your ear off, which leaves you ripe for the picking.

He keeps an intrigued watch on you out of the corner of his eye, hollering and crowding his opponent against the ring. He hopes you’re watching as he pummels his fists into the sorry bastard’s face. The low lights and the cheers from drunks and gamblers get his blood pumping. Even through all that background noise, he hears you softly gasp as teeth clatter to the floor.

Underground Boxer!Feyd who stares you right in the eyes when he’s declared the victor of the match, clocking how much you’re playing with the hem of your skirt. He smiles, a gross expression stained crimson and spits at his feet. It’s a good thing you’re so strangely accepting, his muscles are too sore to chase you down through back alleys and city streets.

He’ll burn through his winnings to give you the life you deserve, and he’ll wash the blood off you both when you get home after a fight. He can’t wait to see how you react to the motorcycle he’s got parked outside.

Fucks you against the cage when no one else is there and on his motorcycle. Gives you backshots in the shower, killing two birds with one stone. Bends you over his prize money and makes you squirt until you pass out on top of it.

Mean mean mean bf but he loves his favorite cheerleader with everything he has.

196 notes · View notes

luvlyhyunjin · 2 months

Text

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Twenty-Four - If Poetry Was A Person.

playlist; Cherry-lana del rey / the night we met-lord huron

wc: 6.5k

warnings; slightly suggestive, sprinkles of angst.

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You thought about how this day would go all night. Tossing and turning in your bed going through all the possible outcomes of meeting up with Hyunjin. Unlocking the box of memories you had turned a blind eye to you. It wasn’t a pleasant experience to say the least. Drowning yourself in a sea of endless smiles that turned into venomous words. Clawing their way back to your heart and stinging just the same way it did back when you were sixteen and had seen them fall from Hyunjin’s mouth so easily. Like you didn’t mean anything to him. Around 3:00 am, your fingers had hesitated. Itching across the lit screen of your phone and begging you to start typing. To tell Hyunjin forget about this whole stupid thing.

You never send the text, even when your fingers stare back at you in disappointment. As if they too are wondering when you have become a slave to pain.

However, when you’re walking out your house at exactly 10:15 am to see Hyunjin waiting for you, an overwhelming heat surges up your body and regret starts swirling in you. He eyes you lazily, leaning back on his blood red motorcycle. A splash of shocking color in contrast to your pale expensive neighborhood.

“didn’t know you owned a motorcycle.” You comment, stepping forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. His eyes scan your body, trailing down, they linger on your thigh highs for a second too long but not long to satisfy the hunger he has for you. Just long enough for you to feel a sense of pride. Knowing you made the right choice wearing it.

You watch him, and he watches you. The wall of tension seem to build itself around you, caging you both and swearing to never let you out even when you’re suffocating.

“I didn’t.” he straightens. Running his hand on smooth black leather of the bike, slowly “this is minho’s baby” he explains and you hear him but you’re not really listening. Your eyes follow his fingers, imaginary pictures of those hands being on your body swirls around in your mind, plastering themselves on these walls that only seem to harden the more you see him. It has you flushing. Wrapping your arms around yourself as a wind walks by, evidence of the ever so slowly building cold in the weather.

“I thought you wouldn’t fancy taking the bus.”

“What happened to your car?” You ask, voice soft. Recollections of his blue Nissan Versa that he used to drive around so proudly.

It steals Hyunjin’s breath away. “I sold it.” He answers with no further explanation. An avoidance in his stare when they flit to a random rock on the sideway. A couple of hundred questions tap on the roof of your mouth, screaming to be let out. You swallow them down, reminding yourself that you’re in no place to be inquisitive.

“Shall we get going?” he clears his throat, turning from you and it’s all happens in an instant. The skipping beat of your heart, your longing fingers and you lurching forward. Hyunjin stops in his tracks, a tug on his black jacket has his breath hitching. As if you’re the one who touched him. Feels the hairs on his body stand up in anticipation.

He turns his head, looking back at you. A question in his gaze and a yearning that follows at the pinks of your cheeks. You look so alluring, so tempting his hands itch to touch you. To take you. He ties himself up, tells himself it’s too soon.

You open your mouth and close it a couple of times, unsureness clog your throat. A bigger shadow, a threatening feeling called fear takes over the majority of your brain “I’ve never..” you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes flit to the ground, the heat growing on your cheeks almost overwhelms you. Has you sweating “I’ve never ridden a bike before. I’m kind of scared Hyunjin.” You admit, tone vulnerable and shy.

It has Hyunjin’s heart swelling in his chest. It weakens him, as if you’re holding gun right at his heart and the minutes ticks by agonizingly slow. Your eyes flicker to his and there goes your finger. Pulling the trigger. blood from his heart droops out into a pathetic pool under you. “It’s okay,” he breaths out, facing you and your fingers loosen. Letting go of him and he finds himself wishing you wouldn’t.

He moves to get closer to you. The height of the sidewalk giving you a few inches yet he still towers over you. Reminding you again of how much smaller you are to him. You will yourself not to look away from him. Even when his hands reach for you, his fingers brush an out of place strand of your hair. He tucks it behind your ear “I got you,” he whispers in the gray space between you. His words loop around looking for a place to stay only to linger sadly, aimlessly. You let out a shaky exhale.

His knuckles brush your cheek softly. Cosplaying a sweet lover you know he will never be. completely opposite to how rough his hand is. An evidence of how hard his days has been “I just have to show you what it’s really like.” An underlining meaning pokes at you. The smirk that tilts his pink lips upwards only confirms it. You feel like a pervert who has been exposed even though nothing had come out of your mouth.

“Maybe I should change my clothes.” You mumble, your bottom lip juts out in a small pout. His eyes darken a shade. An overwhelming need swallows him. He wishes to take your lips into a bruising kiss. A promise of breaking you down that he only hopes you’d be willing to take.

“Don’t. I like your outfit.” His thumb brushes under your bottom lip. Faintly and it has you growing dizzy. How easy it is for him touch you. It feels like nothing has changed. Like months of poison like emotions didn’t build for him and like he wasn’t wasting his time finding new routes just to avoid the possibility of running into you.

“I’m gonna flash the entire neighborhood trying to get on that thing.” You complain, a whine laces your tone that you aren’t so aware of. Aren’t aware of the effect it has on Hyunjin.

“I’ll actually kill myself if you do that.” He says so seriously. Expression blank that your lips can’t help but form into a playful smile. The walls of tension seem to get tighter around you. He watches your fingers trail down your skirt. Grabbing the end of your skirt, his hand circle your wrist. Halting your movements “Don’t. I’m serious.” Hyunjin’s eyes narrow. A warning in his tone that has your stomach tying itself in knots. Pushing to tempt him more. Argue with his buttons until he can’t anymore.

But you decide against it. Reminding yourself this isn’t what this date is about. If you could even call it that.

“Let’s go. I’ll help you get on.” You nod wordlessly. His arm circles your waist leading you towards his bike. You throw your leg over the seat, one hand balancing itself on Hyunjin’s shoulder while the other is holding your skirt from rising up.

Somehow you misplace one of your feet, the heel of your boot offers no support, and it slips. A gasp escapes your lips. Your fingers desperately clutch onto the pads of his jacket “woah easy,” he cautions. His arms pull you towards him, impossibly closer. His other hand is on the exposed skin of your thigh. Holding you in place. His short nails slightly scratch the skin, leaving a burning sensation behind. With the spinning of your mind you aren’t sure if that is the punishment of his touch or if he left a reddening mark behind. You hope it’s the latter.

“you okay?” you nod mutely.

He helps you on the bike, his hand lingers on your thigh. A ghost of his fingers trails the inside of your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, You want to glare at him. Throw your usual snarky comments to him but you’re blank. Tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to convince yourself it’s all misplaced touches but the way his lips are slowly pulling into that knowing half smirk full of trouble and charm, you know that’s not the case.

“So where are we going?” you ask his back, a pathetic attempt to calm the murderous beating of your heart. Trying to shush the calling of Hyunjin’s name “I booked us two tickets to an art gallery.” He answers, turning to face you with a helmet between his hands. You will yourself not to focus on the way his fingers move when he’s adjusting the straps “art gallery?” you repeat in question. He hums back, a sound so similar to a melody your heart would love to sing to. He fixes your hair for you again, patting the top of your head to calm down any hairs that were messed up by the wind “Didn’t you tell me you had a project with Yuna? I thought that would help.” He explains, fitting the helmet onto your head.

“oh.” His eyes dart down to you, a question lingers in the lock of your eyes but none of you speak. He turns away from you to put his own helmet on. You burn, wondering what his deal is.

He swings his leg over, climbing onto the motorcycle with so much ease that it has you a little embarrassed “You ready?” he asks turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor. You shake your head in rising panic, the sound of engine reminds you of your beating heart “I’m really scared Hyunjin.” Your wide eyes, glinting like they never lost their spark, like you were still teenagers has Hyunjin dizzy. The dusted pink of your cheek because of how cold it is has him swallowing around nothing. Your beauty was unmatched, not like anything he had ever seen.

“it’s okay,” he finds himself whispering for you repeatedly, afraid he’ll break you if he speaks any louder “just hold onto me” he instructs as he grips your smaller hand in his, guiding it around his waist. The feeling of his hard abdomen throws you in a different loop of panic “yeah?” he waits for you, seconds pass by you and then you’re nodding. He shakes in disapproval, a tsk out of his lips almost has you squirming on the leather seats “talk to me I need to hear your voice.”

“okay.” You whisper in faux coldness clinging to the edge of your voice, desperately trying not to lie down in this puddle of emotions and beg Hyunjin to take you. You didn’t know what exactly you were waiting, hoping for.

But the ever so rare kindness of him pulls on your heartstrings so easily. Completely washing over every scar that was originally caused by him. You aren’t sure if you were easy or just has your body foolishly missed the touch of your first love.

A scream left your lips as Hyunjin suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward, a chuckle bubbles in his chest when your arms tighten around him as your journey to the art gallery begins.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re a little breathless mostly due to your subsiding fear but deep in the pits of your soul you know it’s because your palm had wandered. A mind of their own until it ended up sprawled on Hyunjin’s chest. You could still feel the beat of his heart tattooed on your palm. Questioning if it was for you or was the rush of adrenaline a better candidate.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it princess?” Hyunjin mocks, a glint in his dark eyes as he takes off his helmet. Outstretching his palm to you. You scowl “I almost died, asshole.”

He laughs, freeing butterflies you didn’t know you had kept trapped in cages within your stomach. His impatience takes control when you refuse to take his hand. Reaching for you, he circles your wrist tattooing himself on you once again “I told you,” Your pulled into his chest, an innocence douses the gaze in your eyes while his only seem to wither in darkness “I got you.” He reminds you of his earlier words, a promise he keeps.

You huff out a breath, freeing your wrist from him and your eyes from the shackles of his demons “whatever, let’s just go.” You turn away from him, hurrying across the parking lot while Hyunjin follows is lazy strides. Eyes lingering everywhere on the back of your body. A foreboding glint in his eye.

Your feet taps in running patience on the ground, watching as Hyunjin hands the tickets to the receptionist. If the overdoing of her batting her eyelashes and the twirling of hair between her fingers is anything to go by, it isn’t hard to tell that she’s trying to flirt with him. Hyunjin in complete oblivion only furrows his eyebrow in growing confusion at the seemingly endless chatter of her. Despite the twig of jealousy you feel you find yourself unable to blame her.

You watch as her eyes darting between you and Hyunjin. Him nodding at her before he’s finally walking to you without much expression “she asked me if we were together.” He informs you when he’s close enough.

“Is that so?”

“She also said if I need anything I can talk to her,” he starts walking and you follow closely behind “so she’s trying to fuck you.” He stops in his stride, looking back at you with an arched brow “where did you get that from?”

You stare at him blankly, wondering if this is an act he’s pulling or if he’s serious. The momentary silence has you chuckling, Turning your head to the side to hide your smile. His eyes follow you, his body betrays him. Hoping for a glimpse of your face “come on Hyunjin, she’s a receptionist what else could you need from her?”

“Directions?”

“Uh huh,” you reply sarcastically, continuing your walk past him as he this time follows you close “I’m sure in this big ass gallery it would make sense to walk all the way back to the receptionist for directions.” You throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair is thrown over your shoulder and even now in midst of pieces among pieces of art you manage to be the prettiest piece of art he had ever seen.

“You don’t look too happy,” you comment when he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, absentmindedly “why would I be happy about that?”

“Because a girl wants to fuck you? Isn’t that what it takes to make a guy happy.”

“I’m not like the other guys.” You roll your eyes at him, stopping by a painting of the sun going down. He stops right beside you “I’m 5’10 and I hate Andrew Tate by the way.” You try to hold back your laugh, biting down on your fuller bottom lip. He stares at you, scrutinizing your futile attempts at holding back your giggles. It doesn’t last long before you’re breaking down in heavenly like laughter, your hand comes up to cover your mouth while the other pushes uselessly at his shoulder “stop.” You whine.

Hyunjin doesn’t budge, his expression softens at your beauty. Breathtakingly unfair. That even when your laughter dies down, an awkwardness settles between as your eye contact lasts a second too long. Long enough for your heart to starts calling for him. Praying for an answer back.

It's four hours later that when you’re emerging from the building, the unforgiving sun warms up the coldness of the weather around you. You hug your body, a bounce in your walk as you try to follow up with Hyunjin. The tightness of your skirt and height of your heels giving you a disadvantage. Sensing your absence he pauses in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at you.

Watching you try to catch up to him in your smaller and weaker body has his thoughts darkening. Eyes narrowing. It’s a weird urge, a temptation of the devil that whispers to him about how he should make you his. It hits him out of nowhere, has him lost in thought that it takes him a minute to realize you made it next to him. A puzzled look at his silence.

So naïve.

“Having trouble, princess?” he taunts, swallowing back his desires. You huff, annoyance quickly taking over your pretty features.

“Shut up.” Your curled fist means to punch his shoulder but he catches it in his palm, fingers curling around your wrist instead and in one swift movement he pulls you into his chest. Your nose is buried in his cream colored neck, drowning in the scent of peaches.

“Do I need to do everything for you? Need me to carry you?” he taunts, a mean edge to his voice that has you weak in the knees for reasons you don’t wanna think about. You rake your brain trying to find something to say but the engines in your head seem to malfunction every time you’re one step closer to this man “Hmm?” He urges for an answer that you cannot give. Eyes eager.

You shake your head dumbly, not finding your voice and Hyunjin eyes gleam with satisfaction. Expected you to fight back. He rewards you with the brush of his thumb on your pulse.

“Come on,” he tugs on your wrist gently, urging you to follow him “there’s one more place I want to take you.”

It gives you whiplash; how easy it is for him to switch. He’s mean but then he’s gentle and he toys with the line so expertly it leaves you thirsty for more. Discovering sides of you that you didn’t know were in you all along. So, when you’re finally at his bike, he hands you, your helmet. You stand still, chewing on your bottom lip in something akin to shame.

Your fingers curl around his jacket just like this morning, halting his movement and he looks back at you over his shoulder, pleasure evident in the curl of his smirk “Mhm?”

“Do you-“ you exhale “do you think you could help me on the bike again?” awkwardness seeps into your fingers. He pauses at your cheeks turning pink, you’re turning your head, trying to bury it in your shoulder in shyness and Hyunjin eyebrows drop. Eyes drinking the sight of you, and he’s hungry.

“Of course, kitten.” The endearment has you curling on yourself. Hyunjin feels like a sadist because you squirming under his dark eyes might be his new favorite thing.

“Come here,” he whispers to you softly, coaxing you into the lion’s den and just like a naïve hopeless bunny you follow. You take his hand; his other arm circles your waist in a familiar scene to this morning and with more ease you climb onto the bike.

“Do you need me to help you with this too?” he gestures to the helmet with a tilt of his chin. With burning cheeks, glazed eyes that are stuck on your lap you nod. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, burning holes in the top of your head. His index finger is on your chin guiding you to look up at him “I didn’t catch that, pretty.”

The thoughts of the torrential rain of sensations has you burning in shame and need. A need that you weren’t even aware you wanted till you locked eyes “yes please,” you breath out and Hyunjin smiles as if he’s proud of you. He fits the helmet onto your head with pleasure dripping from his fingers.

“Woah.” You speak in awe, the scent of ocean invades your nostrils. Welcoming you right where you belong. You get off the bike. A gleaming smile taking its claim on your face and like a madman drowning in love Hyunjin watches you light up with excitement.

“Let’s go. Come on!” you urge, a bounce in your step that has him melting like candle wax. You’re cute. Perhaps a little too cute for his own liking.

“Hold on,” he orders, pulling on your wrist and leading you to sit back on the leather of his bike. You look at him puzzled, a question dying at the tip of your tongue when he kneels in front of you. His fingers move to untie your shoelace “you wanna feel the water, no?” He speaks as he pulls on the strings. You stare at him silently. His act of gentleness leaving you dizzy with emotions you refuse to name. The words you want to say are listless and without control.

His hands are on the back of your leg as he pulls your boot off, it goes with ease. At your silence, he looks back up and you’re both taken aback by the moment you find yourselves in. The wind plays through your hair, strands flying away from your face and your eyes take him back to when you were still in love with him. When he still burned for you and didn’t have to deny his need for you.

“Do you pity me, Hyunjin?” you ask carefully, hoping for an answer that will kill off this unyielding hope in you yet needing one that will help it bloom.

“Why would I pity you Y/N?” you give a non-committal shrug “Do you feel sorry for me? Because of everything I told you?” you ask in a small voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of his small actions.

“I don’t feel sorry for you Y/N.” his voice is unwavering, confident in ways that will only confuse you more. Did he enjoy keeping you on the tips of your toes or were you a foolish individual stolen away by the charm of Hwang Hyunjin.

“You don’t believe me?” he presses, squeezing your leg lightly. You avoid his eyes, gaze lost on the sea behind him. He follows in desperate attempts to catch them “Why are you being so nice to me then? Taking care of me like this?” you ask, unconvinced. He lets out a breath, his hand reluctantly moves upwards and squeezes gently just right under your knee, his thumb rubs soothing circles on your clad skin.

“I can’t be nice to you unless I’m pitying you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You pout “I just wanna make you feel better,” he explains gently as if he sees the thorns of anxiety that are slowly curling around you. His hand keeps inching upwards until he rests his palms at your thigh “You don’t like it when I take care of you?” he hums softly, and you shake your head. Feeling like a kid who’s too immersed in their feelings to grasp the reality of anything that’s going around them.

“I do,”

“Good.” He smiles up at you “because I like taking care of you too. It’s what I always do for you remember?”

But you loved me back then.

Are words that end up stuck in your throat with nowhere to really go. Dying down along with a million other things you wish to say, you wish to ask but they all fall hopelessly, curling right next to your blue pool of sadness that only seem to grow bigger. You plunge yourself in it. Hoping to drown and maybe then none of this will matter anymore.

“Should I take off your thigh highs too?” Hyunjin asks when the silence between you stretches.

You nod “Please.” Voice doused in vulnerability that he only seems to see. Yet you remain inattentive to the demons he’s fighting against. All the little voices that are screaming for him to lunge forward, take you into his arms and never let go. His mind tells him that this is the only choice, he won’t have to look for you in others. Won’t have to feel disappointment that none of them are on par with you.

He keeps his eyes locked with you as his fingers slowly itch upwards leaving behind a trail of flowers that will surely wither and die. Because he won’t be able to water them, won’t be there to touch you again like this. His fingers hook into the top of your thigh highs, the feeling of his cold fingers against your skin has you slightly jumping, mouth open in a quiet gasp. And Hyunjin eats it up like a starved man. He basks in it, the way you react to his touch. The flutter of your eyelashes when he pulls the soft fabric down and down, down. Like he’s stealing your sanity away with him. His gaze is dark upon you as he moves to your other leg. Making a show that its only purpose is to torture you. He’s addicted. To the glazing of your eyes, the blushing you and he wants nothing more to control it, to witness you lose all autonomy.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him when he successfully takes the second off. Shoving them into your abandoned boots he doesn’t move from his position. His thumb brushes strokes of sugary love onto your leg. the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips is vertiginous. Your skin is silky, smooth but more than anything intoxicating.

“You’re welcome, pretty.” his voice more than a whisper but incredibly devilish to your ears. And even now, when he's the one at his knees for you, you feel like you’re at his mercy. A wrong move of just his thumb and you’d be breaking down.

“Go ahead, pretty.” His voice is demanding despite the softness lacing it “enjoy the sea.” He allows you to move and just like a controlled puppet you find yourself nodding. Eyes blinking at him in obedience he only ever dreamt of witnessing. Hyunjin senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

A pat of his palm on your leg has you moving.

You run towards the waves of water, leaving a mountain of tension and empty promises behind you. Hyunjin lingers, swims in his pain a little longer as he watches a magnificent grin take its place on your face. A joy that only seems to take over you when you’re by the sea.

You look back at him, a squeak forcing itself out of your mouth when your feet touch the water “it’s so cold jinnie!” you yell at him, unaware of the magic word that had slipped out of your mouth. He’s drunk on the way it makes him feel, the way you call his name, and he is bewitched by you. He’s sure that in your past life you must have been a fairy with magic powers, you must have fallen for him, and you must have cast a spell on him. A spell that seems to be unbreakable and that will haunt him throughout all his lives.

“Be careful!” He warns, when he watches you twirl around, water splashes around you and onto your clothes. He wonders if the droplets of water are as weak as him, enamored by your beauty and are clinging to you like he seem to cling to you. He walks towards you with lazy slow stride. Following your messy footprints on the sand. Marking his pathway to you once again.

A cigarette he just lit rests between his pink lips. A pathetic attempt to relief the stress of the force that is you.

He stops right before the crashing waves, keeping a good distance between him and the water. Hands in his pockets as the wind tickles his hair. You twirl around, laughter erupting from your chest and when you face him. The sun is slowly starting to set behind you, coloring the sky into a hue of orange and lilac. You flatter, your smile slowly starts to disappear and melts into that ever so building tension between you two. He curls his fists, pulling at the leash of his desires. He wants nothing but to go there and ruin you. Instead, he pretends to be good. Puts on a fake façade of the Hyunjin you deemed a stranger and hopes for his feelings to fly away with the smoke of his nicotine stick.

Upon the sand, he finally settles down and watches you like a silent movie as you start heading towards him. As if you’re a lost soul wandering around for their home. You sit beside him; a trail of quietness follows.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” He speaks after a while, tone soft completely opposite to the shimmering waves catching purple diamonds in the folds of it.

You look at him, eyes studying his face with a furrow of bewilderment at his question. It takes a minute for you to click in, eyes widen in recognition as you look around you. The sand, the water and even the sky are all witnesses to back you up.

“No way!” a grin spreads across your face, your hands lurch forward in bubbling excitement and then they’re touching him, shaking him as if he was the one who forgot “it was here wasn’t it!”

He nods, eyes fond and expression soft not particularly at your excitement but rather a raw reflection of his emotions. It settles in your bones, spreading warmth through your entire body and you retract your hands with a shaky breath. As if you were burned.

He misses your touch already.

“Did you bring us here on purpose?” he shakes his head, his hair playing in the wind, and you fight the urge to reach forward, bury your hand in his blonde strands “Believe it or not I didn’t. this was just the closest beach to the gallery.”

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging them when the memories come rushing back to you like a tempest. An overwhelming storm of emotions twirls inside you and more images of you and Hyunjin flash in your mind.

Hyunjin kissing you.

Hyunjin touching you.

Hyunjin telling you he loves you forever and always.

Forever and always… You can’t help but wonder where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air? And if it did how come your being is still here and why haven’t you vanished and became one with the air just like his feelings. He’s next to you but he’s not the same and you’re not the same. And that alone sends a surge of sadness, claiming over your fragile heart. It is such a weird feeling to mourn over someone who’s alive and breathing.

“Do you remember how we met?” his hand hangs awkwardly between you, wondering if he’s allowed to touch you like he had done all day. The more he does it the weaker he becomes. The softness of your eyes gives him strength and he cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his “You threw a fucking ball at my head,” despite the vulgar usage of words your voice is soft.

“I did,” he smiles, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too “and then what?”

“You didn’t even apologize, just picked up your ball glared at me and then left,” you reminisce, a painful nostalgia enveloping your words. He lets out a breathy chuckle, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek “can you blame me? I was shocked.” He smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, and so inviting.

“Shocked by what?” you trail off, eyes fixated on his lips.

“By how my ball managed to hit the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. He speaks it like it’s a fact, nothing to be surprised over but you choke. On his gaze, on his words and on your own feelings that keep hitting these walls aimlessly.

“What happened after that?” His hands slip down, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of longing.

“A week later you saw me in the hallway,” your heart beats loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“I did,”

“And you came over to me and introduced yourself and asked me how my head was” you finish quietly, the weight of the memories crushes you. Leaving you nothing but a pathetic and fragile mess under it. Remaining pieces of who you used to be someday.

“A fucking week later.” he groans in disbelief, and you hadn’t realized how close his face was until the smell of his breath hits you, mint, and cigarettes smoke. “I was such a moron.”

“You were.” You respond breathlessly. a need unfurls within you, the more your eyes stare at his lips “I thought you were cute.” You confess, a lump forms in your throat.

“You did?” he asks between the untainted space you hold, none of you move refusing to color it red with your sorrow. You look up, almost closing your eyes painfully at the rare vulnerability in his voice. And when he looks down at you like he never stopped loving you. Something in you breaks because it’s not real. He looks at you like there aren’t years’ worth of scars you need to heal from like he doesn’t know the darkness that surrounded you. Was he blind or was he just not scared of you anymore?

A yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint has your eyes tearing up in emotions much bigger than whatever that’s left from your broken relationship. You don’t want to cry, at least not now and not in front of him and that’s why you take a shaky breath in. Free yourself from his hold and stand up, ignoring the look of disappointment and hurt that washes over his face. Hyunjin retracts his hand, curling and brings it to his chest as if the rejection had hurt him physically.

As night settles around you, enveloping everything in darkness you’re aware your limited time is already coming to an end. You take hesitant steps towards the water. When you turn to face him, he’s already standing as if he too is aware of the ticking clock.

“Can I ask you something?” you speak, shattering the pregnant silence around you. He feeds on the look on your face, the softness of your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“If you could go back and change the past,” you take a step forward, your body fights against the resistance of the water “would you do it?” Your question is coated in mystery. You do realize that. You’re toying with a thin rope that could turn on you and choke you but you’re greedy. Your heart yearns for more, cries for more and this is the least you could give back.

“Yeah.” Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate, answers so easily it almost makes you wanna cry. You want nothing but to curl into a ball and let all this pain out somehow. Or maybe turn around and throw yourself into the darkest pits of the ocean hoping to disappear and maybe be reborn into a world where you won’t have to fight. You could just rest. You wish for a way to be somewhere where you don’t have to suffer. In a way that you can be with him over and over again despite the way it hurts.

It is in this mere moment while cold catches up to you, hugging your body you realize you never left this beach ever since you were sixteen. All along you had nestled yourself here and waited for Hyunjin to come back. A tranquil hush falls over you, the impossible lump forms in your throat again. You forcibly try to swallow it down but it only comes back harder.

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears and just like when you were sixteen. The sea, stars and night are all witnesses to the pain tattooed on your heart, witnesses to the curse you set on Hyunjin and the unbreakable wall of unburied feelings between you two.

The ride to your home is quiet, the beating of Hyunjin’s heart seems to water hope in routes you thought you closed in your heart. Both of you are lost in thought of what today could mean for you. It isn’t long before he comes to a stop right outside your expensive house. The turned-on lights are evidence of your mother being awake has you withering away in disappointment. The fairytale you lived today is coming to an end.

You linger by Hyunjin’s bike, your feet kick a random rock while he leans on it. The same scene from earlier morning. He eyes you, drinking in the way your cheeks develop a beautiful red blush the longer he stares. As if his eyes are as unforgiving as your beauty.

If poetry was a person, it would be you.

“Thank you for today.” You mumble shyly, the quietness of your street aiding your soft voice.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He’s lost in thought, obvious in the way his words tumble out without much emotion behind it.

“I’ll see you around.” You lie. Turning around to head for the door. He reaches for you, a too familiar scene that you guys had lived before “wait,” his fingers hold onto yours, gently and it tickles your skin. You exhale, facing him with a quirk of your eyebrow.

“Can I ask you something too?” you nod, your fingers curl around his, another pang of pain hits him right in the chest. He succumbs completely to the need he feels. Deems it hopeless to fight against this incredible force that is you.

“If you could go back, would you change the past?” he redirects your own question back at you and it surprise you. Has you biting on your bottom lip in an anxious manner but then he’s reaching for you, his thumb brushes right under your lip. Adding slight pressure to free your lips “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.” His eyes are fixated on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own and you’re breathless. Your dewy eyes flicker to his lips, Hyunjin feels ten million matches lighten up soul.

“I would,” you answer, your nails graze the inside of his palm. Leaving traces of your touch, your scent behind that will surely leave him wide awake. Wondering where everything went wrong. You smile at him, an all too faked smile that he memorized so well. Kept it buried in the back of his mind so every time he missed you, he’d remind himself. You didn’t even smile at him like he’s worth it.

And Hyunjin realizes he will forever be imprisoned in this jail of yours.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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garoujo · 2 years

Text

LET ME TAKE YOU FOR A RIDE — TOKYO REVENGERS

feat : sano manjiro, ryuguji ken, hanma shuji, haitani rindou, ( akashi ) sanzu haruchiyo + sano shinichiro.

♱ warnings — f!reader, bike sex, exhibitionism, idk if motorcycles are actually this sturdy but if they aren’t let’s just lie okay :3 creampies, fingering / cunninglingus in sanzu’s, shinichiro fucks you on someone else’s bike, smoking in hanma’s, cockwarming in rindou’s.

♱ note — a lil bonus shin hc in here cause the idea came to me v suddenly akhajaka so consider it a fank yew for u guys putting up w me < 3

・✶ ｡ﾟSANO MANJIRO / MIKEY

as far as mikey was concerned he could fuck you wherever he wanted in his city, why should he have to resist you when he can feel the way your pretty tits are pressed against his back, even through the thick material of his gang uniform. wordlessly pulling over before he’s shooting you a look that has your thighs already squeezing around the cool metal underneath you.

“m-mikey, ah!” you gasp as mikey pushes himself against you, caging you between his chest and the cool body of his motorcycle behind you. “what? does ‘t feel good?” he breathes, but there’s a dreamy lull to his tone when his lips curl slightly against the crook of your neck and he sinks into your pussy. your nails are digging into the plush leather of the seat as a means to ground yourself when he leans the weight of his hips against yours, the blunt head of his cock pushing up against the swollen spots inside of you before his hips are drawing back and he sighs.

he’s still fully dressed except from where he’s pulled his cock out his pants, long coat hanging over his shoulders and the only thing keeping it from falling off is the way your free hand is twisting into the fabric — keeping mikey close as he begins a pace that has you jolting against his motorcycle, every smack of his hips echoing around the darkened dock. “hnnn—you’re so tight.” mikey gulps, letting his slender fingers trace between your bodies to roll your clit in sticky circles, panting and growling against your jaw when your pussy tightens around him in time with each flick of his wrist.

“w-we could’ve waited until we got home, mikey.” you whine, but your hips still grind up to meet his as his brows furrow, feeling him push his cock up against something sensitive inside of you until your breath is skipping, pussy clenching right around him everytime he rocks forward and mikey thinks he could watch your lustful expression under the dim streetlights every fucking day. “yeah, then you shouldn’t have looked so pretty.”

・✶ ｡ﾟRYUGUJI KEN / DRAKEN

it was so easy to rile draken up, even though he knew exactly what you were doing when he felt your fingers trail down his toned abdomen — grazing along the bulge of his cock at every fucking red light so you can see the way his jaw clenches, before he’s cursing and pulling into some random alleyway with a pretty frown and a hard cock since you can’t fucking wait.

“this what you fuckin’ needed, princess? you tryna fuckin’ kill us? s-shit—“ draken’s trying to sound angry but you can barely hear anything he’s saying with how well he’s filling you, keeping you pressed over the metal handlebars of his bike as he fucks into you, each thrust heavy and clapping and driven by the strength in his huge body and there’s a burning hot rush of blood under your skin where you feel his thick fingers grip at the swell of your ass.

“need to quit spoilin’ you, ‘s that it?” there’s a carnal drop in draken’s tone, one that vibrates through his chest but despite that there’s no real weight to his words, because you know you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger — only having to send him a doe-eyed look to have him bullying his thick cock into your pretty pussy. you moan brokenly into the darkened alleyway and you hear your boyfriend hiss with another wet withdrawal of his hips. “keep quiet, princess. shit, hhnn—gonna get us fuckin’ caught.”

you can barely breath with how deep draken feels like he reaches, your fingertips curling along the steel handlebars as another languid moan of his name kicks at your throat, your desperate attempts at being quiet melting away with every harsh smack of his hips against yours. your body feels like it’s crumbling under each of his thrusts, and your pretty sure even the heavy motorcycle beneath you is jolting as he splits you open on his cock, grunting long and low when he leans over you to twist your face towards his for a kiss. “‘f you’re not gonna be quiet then let me feel you cum, princess.”

・✶ ｡ﾟHANMA SHUJI

you knew it was coming, you could basically see the arousal that radiated out of shuji when he turned round to face you at every red light, letting his fingertips trail up your thighs before he was pulling you in for messy, quick kisses. there was nothing more thrilling to him than being able to bend you over his bike whenever he wanted, plus.. he’d break the teeth of any bastard that tried to tell him he couldn’t.

shuji’s amber eyes are hooded when he looks at you, black ink of sin visible when he takes the last long draw of the cigarette that’s hanging from his smirking lips, before he’s flicking it to the side and pressing deep into your body, helping you bounce on his lap as he sinks back against the obnoxious print of his bike seat. “look at you, baby. fuck sake, ‘s pussy’s always so fuckin’ ready for me, yeah?” he goads, sending you a teasing look before he snaps his hips into yours, the rough rhythm of his cock making you twitch and pulling a low groan from his lips before it breaks into a breathless chuckle.

it’s almost unfair the quick pace hanma takes as he fucks you, his thick cock digging up inside of your pussy until you’re trembling and twisting into him, heels digging into the steel of his bike as he works your hips to meet the encouraging pull of his huge hands from where they’re massaging at your skin. you feel his teeth nip playfully at your jawline before his lips are gliding along the spots after, cunt baring down around his cock tight as you gasp and he slows to a teasing grind.

“shuji—hnnn, please!” you whine, whispery and choked off as he rolls his hips into yours — pushing up against the spots that makes your hips tremble aswell as your lungs with your next inhale, but he knows you need more. “hmm?” he smirks, feigning obliviousness but there’s a playful glint in the amber that’s jumping from the sight of your glistening cunt to your pretty face. “use your words, doll, or else. you wanna cum, right?” hanma drawls, scratchy and growly as he lets his fingers trace along your skin to roll your puffy clit, just as he grazes along the right spot inside of you that he knows will make you cum — but he can’t deny that the pleasured tears gathering in your lashes make him fucking throb. “wanna cum.” you finally answer and lightning feels like it sparks in your body with the first too deep kiss of hanma’s cock that immediately follows. “oh? that’s more like it, baby—fuckin’ shit. don’t hold back on me, now.”

・✶ ｡ﾟHAITANI RINDOU

rindou was such a tease so the amount of times he’d fucked you on his bike had all been of his own doing, he loved the feeling of your chest being pressed against his back but he also loved the feeling of your pussy squeezing around his cock, chest to chest as you both bask in the city lights. but he couldn’t get enough of how pretty you looked when you squirmed for more.

“so fuckin’ needy, princess.” rindou goads from where he’s got you sat infront of him — chest to chest on his bike and your thighs hooked around his hips, your pretty pussy spread eagerly around his thick cock underneath your skirt. he knows he’s going to fuck you, but he loves the needy little humps you make as you beg for some friction, and the way your wide-eyes blink up at him everytime he revs the engine of his bike — making his cock graze along the swollen spots inside of you when it jumps underneath you both, pushing him deeper.

you whimper when you feel rindou’s fingers tighten around your jaw, urging you to meet his lilac gaze from where he’s watching you from underneath his dyed bangs — pulling you in for a kiss that’s a little messy and accompanied by his hips rocking into yours languidly, swallowing the needy mewls that fall from your lips at the sudden stimulation. “don’t fall apart on me yet, doll.” he groans, but he fills you so well at this angle you can only whine into the kiss, moving your mouth along his while you twitch around him.

“fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” rindou slurs, the hand that was hooked around the handlebars of his bike grabbing onto your hips before he’s pulling you closer. his heavy balls pressing flush against your ass at this angle and you feel his heavy cock twitch and throb when your pussy clenches around him. you pull a growl from your lilac haired boyfriend before he’s moving to press you down against the cool steel beneath you both with a dangerous smirk, one that only tugs wider when he pushes deeper into your cunt. “damn, baby. this what you meant when you said you wanted to go for a ride?”

・✶ ｡ﾟ SANZU HARUCHIYO

it was so obvious the effect you had on sanzu, almost embarrassingly so considering how crazed and unhinged he seemed to everybody else. so it was even more charming to watch him fall apart at the seams so easily, deliberately pushing yourself to breathe along the back of his neck while you squeeze your arms around his waist as he drives you through the city.

“told you to sit still angel.” sanzu whispers, holding your hips down from where he’s got your lower back pressed along the handlebars of his pink bike as he buries his face into your pussy. you feel his fingers trace along the soft curve of your inner thighs before he’s spreading you lewdly, his lips curling into a smirk when he drags his tongue along your swollen clit just to feel the way you push up against him, greedy for more of his mouth and he feels his cock strain against his slacks at the feeling.

his fingers grab and dig into the aching flesh of your ass as he rocks you against him, his chin and scarred cheeks wet with a mixture of your slick and his spit, as another low sound cracks from his throat when he pushes his tongue into your twitching walls. the way sanzu eats you out is so eager, hearing him swallow and slurp at the cream his tongue pushes out of your pussy before he’s curling it against your clit, and you feel your toes curl from where your legs are thrown over his shoulders as you twist your hands in his hair — rocking yourself against his greedy ministrations as you feel his tongue drag over your slit.

“so fuckin’ pretty. kill any bastard who thinks they can see you like this, ‘ts only for me.” you know he’s talking about if anyone happens to round the corner of the quiet street he’s parked up in, but you doubt either of you would even notice with how dizzy you feel — his words vibrating against your pussy as a mixture of euphoria and bliss rolls down your spine. sanzu’s tongue splits down your folds to taste the slick that’s gathered there, dragging it back up to your clit before he’s closing his lips around the bud and suckling languidly, making you throw your head back and push yourself tight against the uncomfortable metal below you. “gonna cum all over my fuckin’ bike, angel? don’t hold back on me.”

・✶ ｡ﾟSANO SHINICHIRO

he’d never been able to resist you, his will power was basically non existent — especially when you’re sitting in his shop while he works on a bike, swaying your hips and sending him a pretty smile everytime you hand him a tool, and even just the slight brush of your fingertips against shin’s has him cock twitching as he shoots you a drowsy look. “cmeer, baby. need somethin’”

the sweet, needy little moan that leaves your lips makes shinichiro’s cock throb before he’s picking up a pace that’s a little faster, desperate as he loses himself in each squeeze of your walls around his cock. “fuck, jus’ like that, baby.” it’s late, he’s in the back shop and thankfully he’s not expecting any customers because right now, his hair is mused where it hangs over his drowsy, lidded gaze and his clothes are rustled, pants unzipped under the jacket that’s wrapped around his waist as he bends his pretty girlfriend over the bike he’s been diligently working on all day, but now couldn’t care less about because of how good you feel.

“s-shin, ‘m gonna make a-ah! mess.” you gasp when you feel him press his calloused palm against the front of your thigh, pulling it up to hook it around his waist and the new position makes him feel like he reaches even deeper. “nah—’ts fine, baby. ‘ll clean it before i give ‘em it back anyway, f-fuck.” shinichiro huffs, scratchy and breathless as he leans forward to smear kisses along the back of your neck, letting his free hand trace between your bodies until he’s rolling your clit, pairing it with the back and forth stutter of his hips until he’s groaning, low and shameless when your pussy throbs around him.

“damn, y’re gonna make me c-cum, hnnn—squeezin’ real fuckin’ tight, baby.” he rasps, his brow crumbling as he pants above you and his darker bangs stick along the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. it only takes a few more twists of his wrists before he’s coaxing you into your orgasm. every thrust making you whine his name as a gooey ring of cream forms around the base of his cock and shinichiro groans at the milking compression of your walls, grabbing onto the sturdy steel bike below you both as he thickens and trembles, spilling hot inside of you with a few more shallow thrusts before he’s smearing kisses along the dip of your shoulders. “gotta clean my baby up before some bike though.”

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase.

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood.

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy.

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget.

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug.

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context.

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk).

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god.

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch.

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so.

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.”

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation.

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people.

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid.

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk.

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy.

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?”

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy.

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?”

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass.

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted.

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him.

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.”

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately.

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes.

“You don’t?”

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind.

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns.

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out.

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away.

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck.

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…”

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations.

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels.

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth.

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door.

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does.

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again.

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time.

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten.

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

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