#and it’ll be SO much more satisfying knowing how much they had to go through to get there

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #mayhem art #magnusbae #Magnus Mayhem Art #star wars #sw art #anakin skywalker fanart #anakin fanart #anakin #obiwan #obi wan and anakin #obikin fic #AHHHHH what to say what to say. I'm so excited by this gift that it makes me speechless :)). I'm not normal about this ok??? I did NOT expe #Magnus to pull such an insane move. ON THE KARKING GO. I shared the wips and frighteningly fast got this delicious thing in return! #and I haven't recovered since! #Magnusbae. I love this revised version as much as I love the raw original one. I'm cradling them both like beloved twins :))). #Thank you so so much for thisssss (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡

[lovelyhan]

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is. 

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office. 

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?” 

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money. 

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed. 

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?” 

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?” 

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition. 

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable. 

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain. 

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things. 

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her. 

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year. 

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help. 

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and  completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do. 

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage. 

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him. 

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner. 

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have. 

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention. 

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time. 

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people. 

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work. 

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude. 

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored. 

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so. 

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon. 

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent. 

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then. 

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh. 

“I want revenge.” 

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines. 

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl. 

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to. 

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing. 

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo. 

From: Wonwoo Jeon  Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife.  The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away.  Regards,  Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance 

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success. 

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints. 

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after. 

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.” 

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse. 

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer. 

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen. 

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama. 

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands. 

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again. 

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

“A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered. 

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?” 

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.” 

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on. 

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious. 

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk. 

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness. 

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene. 

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?” 

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job. 

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?” 

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow. 

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital. 

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange. 

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane. 

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days? 

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change. 

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers. 

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him. 

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?” 

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further. 

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?” 

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved. 

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable. 

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time. 

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place. 

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?” 

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice. 

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. 

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual. 

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact. 

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away. 

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements. 

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars. 

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen. 

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one. 

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in. 

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again. 

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life. 

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer. 

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings. 

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away. 

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion. 

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.  

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence. 

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?” 

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car. 

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals. 

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe. 

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even. 

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. 

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples. 

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts. 

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.” 

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.” 

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all. 

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!” 

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in. 

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium. 

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma. 

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido. 

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.” 

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon 

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work. 

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards, 

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance 

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #lovelyhan #full-length fic 📚 #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader

[on-leatheredwings]

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand. 

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades. 

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string. 

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black. 

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said. 

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you. 

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns. 

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory. 

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention. 

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing. 

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant. 

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming. 

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01. 

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned. 

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face. 

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away. 

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe. 

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen. 

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself. 

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard. 

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way. 

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice. 

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly. 

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

#yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #yandere batfam #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #wish this was better but idc #its fun to just write u know :) #mine

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 013

with. finnick odair

includes. fem!reader, husband finnick, filming, kitchen sex, domesticity, oral (fem receiving)

→ kinktober masterlist

It started out as the definition of domesticity. 

There was a package in the mail, sent from Katniss and Peeta, addressed to ‘The Odairs’ in Katniss’ handwriting. Seeing the joint name made you giddy, but reading the letter from your closest friends made you giddier. 

They’d congratulated you on your recent marriage, praised the ceremony once more, and had enclosed an old video camera for both of you to document your newlywed endeavors on. 

While you had cooking and home decorating selected as ideas for ‘newlywed endeavors’, Finnick had gone a different route. 

The camera sat in his hands as he kissed at your neck, his free hand teasing at your waist. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll be fun,” came his promise, spoken lowly and close to your ear in an attempt to get you to give in. You were closer to doing so than you would like to admit, just the thought almost enticing enough to make you put the knife down, slide the vegetables out of the way, and give Finnick what he wanted. 

Almost. 

You refused to give in without making Finnick plead just a little more. 

You hummed, fauxing disinterest as you brought the knife down in another audible slice against the wooden chopping board. 

Finnick continued. “We could look back on it. You could see what I see; How pretty my wife is.” The term made your heart flutter, still not used to being the wife of Finnick Odair.  His hand at your waist circled around to your front, pressing flat against your stomach and pulling you flush against him so you could feel the semi he was sporting beneath his joggers. 

You couldn’t help it anymore, your head lolling back to rest against Finnick, your skull connecting with the taut muscles all along his body. 

 “What d’you say?” You could hear the self satisfied smile in his words.

You end up on the counter top, any food you were prepping pushed all the way to the side to make room for you. Your legs spread, Finnick’s head between a pair of plushy thighs, your abdomen tensing and relaxing as you controlled your breathing. You caught it all on camera, the object pointed down at your husband who licks and sucks along your cunt like it’s his favorite pastime in the world. 

Which, he’s told you as such. 

The muscles in his shoulders flex as he nudges the back of your legs with them, arms circling around your thighs to press his fingertips into the flesh. 

Your legs have lifted a bit, spreading you open even more. 

Finnick presses his tongue flat, letting it relax over the expanse of your cunt as much as the muscle can reach. He licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, repeating the pattern back and forth until you can’t take it anymore. When you whine, the sound desperate and pathetic, he gives you more. 

The interlude of teasing has completely passed, Finnick going back to devouring you like he knows how. He releases one of your legs to use two digits inside of your greedy walls, cunt swallowing them up as Finnick pumps in a fast paced rhythm. 

He focuses on your clit and the surrounding area with his mouth, eyes opening to look up at you. Through the camera, the green is a little grainy, slightly dulled, but you can see the intensity behind his gaze all the same. 

His cheeks flushed, the tip of his nose glistening, blonde wavy hair all over the place from your grip. Your hand finds the strands again as your orgasm approaches, the camera leaning off to the side just a little. 

Finnick pulls away from your cunt and you cry out as you stare down at him in shock. 

He tuts, jerking his head towards the camera. “Keep it on me, baby.” 

You quickly bring it back, taking Finnick’s smile as a form of praise as he goes back down. Just as quick, you’re close again, back arching and muscles tightening. 

Your hand slips from Finnick’s hair, nails scratching at his shoulder as it flails around. Finnick, always knowing exactly what you need, offers his own hand to ground you, both of your fingers quickly interlocking like opposite ends of a magnet. 

When you cum on Finnick’s tongue, it’s so loud that the tiny microphone in the camera struggles to pick it up. 

Watching it back, Finnick teases you for it, his cock sliding in and out of your walls as he fucks you from behind, lips against the shell of your ear as he promises he can make you cum louder here and now than he did then.

#🕸️ ��𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #finnicksworld! #finnicktobr! #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #finnick odair

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon : When They Come Back

✧˚ Ghost, Keegan, Soap, König, Phillip Graves

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Fluff for you suckers -hope you enjoy the word vomit ;(

Working under constant danger put a strain on them, at moments when it seemed like the world was nothing but shambles and havoc they’d close their eyes and remember what brought them warmth. There was a certain feeling they yearned for and were only satisfied when you were near.

There is something special in knowing someone is waiting for you.

Ghost

This man comes back completely drained; physically, mentally, emotionally…

At first, he was hesitant concerning your worry about him

“If you won’t let me take care of you, who will?”

Might be a little distant at first, it takes time for his mind to come back

No going out, at all

You say comforting phrases to him

“You’re not at war anymore, you can come home”

He’s been through a lot, a warm meal and hugs are all he needs for days afterward :(

It takes some time for him to recharge

When he feels better he lets you know much he appreciates everything you do for him

Takes time to admire you; he silently takes in your facial features

Affectionate gazes that flicker between your eyes and lips

He knows you aren’t obliged to it yet you make an effort for him and that makes him feel like he’s earned a much better reward than money or glory could give him

Keegan

Saying this man missed you is an understatement

It’s like you placed a spell on him the moment he met you

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t want to be a moment away from you

He’ll miss you in silence, won’t send letters or texts or anything knowing it’ll make his heart ache more

But when he walks through the door he falls to kissing you

Bites your lip just for the taste of you on his tongue

His lips leave yours for breaks in between intense kisses to whisper “I love you”

He feels empty without the intimacy and closeness of you

He doesn’t care what you do or don’t say, doesn’t expect anything big either, he just wants to see you with your arms open for him

Soap

No matter how bad it was this time, he always comes back with a smile on his face when you open the door

Even behind that loving smile, you catch the subtle dimness in his eyes

Peppers you with kisses all over your face

Extremely clingy

Needs to be reminded that the world can be kind and gentle

Needs you to dote excessively over him

You give him a shoulder massage as he washes up in the bathtub

Convinces you to join him

Afterward, you crawl into bed with him, cradling his head on your lap

Both of you turn into couch potatoes for a couple of days watching cozy films

König

Keeping up a stoic demeanor can be tiring, so he easily drops the poker face as soon as he buries his face into your neck

No matter how much prying you do, you won’t get him to open up about what disturbs him

He’d rather keep those horrors locked away from you, you’re his most cherished possession

A lot of quiet moments where he’s just content to be with you again

Little is said between you as tender and passionate kisses are exchanged

Don’t think he’ll leave your side for the next few days, you’re attached at the hip

As you trace the scars on his back to his shoulders, you feel his body tremble beneath your fingertips

Your touch is addictive to him; soothing him into a tranquil sleep

Phillip Graves

He’s had to deal with a lot of crap so he’s relieved to finally come back to some peace, and most importantly; you

At first, he didn’t want to overwhelm you with issues that aren’t yours, but as your relationship progressed he started opening up more

Oftentimes, he’s in an irritable mood when he comes back

You listen to him rant if that’s what he needs

Other times it gives him too much of a headache to even think about

He adores you for understanding him without words being spoken

With so many enemies he has, he feels undeserving of you, someone who’s like a warm ray of sunshine in his austere life

When he falls silent you know that’s your cue

A sort of haze entrances him as you trail soft, torturous kisses along his jaw

Your scent obscures his mind as he gets drunk on your affection

He can’t even remember what he was mad about

#cod fanfic #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod soap #konig x reader #konig cod #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #headcanon

[stepbrorafe]

Devil May Care - RC

summary : after getting a small taste of your stepbrother, you crave more. desperate times call for desperate measures.

warnings : stepcest, swearing, jealous!Rafe, rough sex, choking, slapping, spit kink, breeding kink, that’s all i can think of

a/n : Movie Night continuation, sorry 4 the wait 😔💪🏼

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

A very long and excruciating week of teasing has passed; subtle touches, suggestive comments, sexy smirks. You were slowly losing it. Rafe knew exactly what to do to leave you desperate for more. And boy were you desperate.

The way he made you feel last week has been on your mind nonstop. You’ve never been touched the way he touched you, no man ever comparing to him. He made your body burn with an overwhelming pleasure, one that you’ve been craving ever since.

No matter how bad you want it, you can’t bring yourself to act on it. The thought of taking initiative the way he did struck you with vicious anxiety. You know he wants it, and that he’s just getting off on teasing you, but the fear of being rejected is far too strong to make you step out of your comfort zone. Especially with your stepbrother.

To say you’re frustrated would be an understatement. You’ve been craving his hands on you, inside you. You know it’s wrong, but fuck, it feels so right.

You can’t help but be snappy with the people surrounding you, you’re just yearning for something you can’t have and it’s exasperating. Rafe can see the effect he’s had on you and it strokes his ego entirely too much for your liking.

You rack your brain, trying to come up with something that will make him cave and give you what you want. You’ve never been so needy for a man before, and it makes you internally scream at yourself. Rafe’s awoken something in you that won’t seem to go to rest.

After a while of thinking, you find yourself in front of your mirror, admiring the sight. Your body sports a thin white dress that hugs your chest perfectly, showcasing your taut nipples. The bottom flows just under the curve of your ass, in which one wrong move will flash your pretty pink thong.

Your devious and impulsive mind decides to do what you think will work best—make Rafe jealous. As he’s the very jealous type for whatever the case is, you think it’ll work in your favor. So, that’s why you rub your plump lips together, rubbing your shiny lip gloss in. Flashing a satisfied smirk at your reflection, you make your way downstairs where you can hear Rafe and Topper chatting.

It takes you all of thirty seconds to make your way into the living room where the two reside. They’re both sat on different sofas, and you choose to sit right beside Topper, eager to get on with your little plan.

The second Rafe’s eyes take you in, his face hardens. He’s instantly tightening his jaw, already suspicious of you.

“Hey Top, Rafe.” You greet them with an innocent smile.

“Y/N! You look—wow.” Topper marvels, his eyes raking over your entire body.

You grin, leaning even closer to him. “Thank you. You look pretty delicious yourself.”

“What are you doing?” Rafe cuts in, his eyes shooting daggers into you.

You turn your head in his direction, a fake frown pulling to your lips. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, slightly squinting his eyes as he reiterates, “What are you doing?”

You bite back the smirk that threatens to plaster itself on your face, innocently shrugging, “Just figured I’d come hangout with my brother and his friend.”

“Stepbrother.” He grits, correcting you with a sharp gaze.

Topper tosses an arm around your shoulders, leaning back into the couch. “You’re welcome to chill any time.”

“Don’t touch her.” Rafe bites, unable to help himself.

You and Topper share a look of confusion before landing on Rafe, staring incredulously. Though, you have more of a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What?” Topper chuckles.

“Get your hand off of her.” Rafe snarls, acknowledging the look of suspicion from his friend and continuing, “You already went through one sister, you don’t get another.”

Topper slowly retracts his arm from you, taking in how serious Rafe suddenly became, and not wanting to endure any of his wrath. He crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact with Rafe.

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes, placing your small hands around his bicep. “We’re just having fun, right Top?”

If possible, Rafe’s glare hardens as he watches you. He knows you’re up to something, and though he doesn’t know exactly what, he’s becoming more and more agitated with your antics.

“You boys want anything to drink?” You question, quickly standing, not bothering to readjust your risen dress.

“Ye-“

Rafe cuts Topper off, “We’re fine. Quit being sick and leave us alone.”

You pout, turning on your heel to face him, swiveling back and forth, “What am I doing?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes, “Shut up, you know what you’re doing. Go on now.” His eyes dart to Topper, “Keep your eyes off her ass, dude.”

You smirk to yourself, knowing your devious little plan is working, and saunter off to the kitchen to grab a water that you don’t even really want. You’re quick with grabbing the bottle from the fridge, eager to head back into the living room.

Rafe’s eyes are instantly on you when you return, almost as if he’s anticipating your next move. You shoot him a little smirk, causing him to narrow his eyes. You ‘accidentally’ drop your water in front of Topper, and slowly bend over to pick it up, showcasing your plump ass.

Rafe’s breathing grows ragged, his body tensing up with lust and anger. He sees right through you now, knowing exactly what you’re doing. Unfortunately for him, it’s working.

Topper has to tear his eyes away from you as you return to your seat next to him. He’s completely oblivious to what’s going on, he’s just painfully aware of how good you look, and it’s almost impossible to avert his eyes.

The two continue their conversation, you paying no mind as you twiddle your fingers. You pull your hair tie off of your wrist and pull it back and forth, occupying yourself as you think of what to do next.

You can see that Rafe is tense and riled up. He’s mad at you. You grin to yourself at knowing it’s working. You want nothing more than for him to fuck your brains out. He gave you a little taste the other night, and now you’re starving for more.

You sit and wonder what all he’s going to do to you, and the endless thoughts get you hot and bothered. You catch yourself clenching your thighs, attempting to soothe the building ache between your legs with even the slightest friction.

Your actions don’t go unnoticed by Rafe. His hands rest on his groin, tugging at his pants and shifting slightly in his seat in an effort to hide his growing bulge. You can do the bare minimum and it still gets him going. He just wants to bend you over the couch and fuck you silly, punish you for acting like a brat.

Biting your inner cheek to keep yourself from smiling, you flick your hair tie at Topper’s knee and it falls between his legs.

“Oops, sorry.” You pout, sliding down to grab it.

You position yourself in front of him, kneeling between his legs as you lean forward to retrieve it. You notice his breath hitch as you’re so close to him and it makes you smile to yourself.

Rafe is furious. He doesn’t want you on your knees for anyone other than him. He’s grown sick of your little act.

Just as you place your hand on Topper’s knee to lift yourself back up, Rafe’s hand is in your hair as he pulls you up himself. His eyes never leave you as he grits his teeth, “Go home, Top.”

His eyes widen as he looks up at you two, confusion washing over his face. “What?”

“Go. Home.” Rafe repeats, finally breaking his stare from you and glaring at his friend.

With a few small swears of bewilderment, Topper’s standing up and heading out the door. Once it’s closed, Rafe’s hold on your hair tightens, straightening you up.

“You think it’s cute? Hm? Touching all up on Top?” He sneers, his opposite hand gripping your jaw as he lifts your face up to look at him. “Make you feel good?”

“I don’t want him.” Is all you can get out before he’s pulling you towards the stairs.

“I’ll give you something to touch.”

You both get to his room within seconds, and he’s eagerly locking the door and turning towards you with dark eyes and a clenched jaw.

“You just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?” He tsks, pushing you onto your knees as he undoes his belt. “Open it up then.”

Your insides are burning with desire and excitement, beyond pleased with the outcome of your plan. You can’t stop clenching around nothing, longing to be filled by him. Just the simple thought has your entrance seeping with arousal.

He slowly removes his belt from the loops of his pants and steps closer to you, “Hands.”

Your eyes widen as you slowly give him what he wants, your heart racing as he wraps the belt around your hands, tightly securing them. You let them fall in your lap as he undoes his pants, pulling them and his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection.

Your mouth waters at the sight. His dick is long and thick, such a pretty pink tip, veins running along the shaft. He looks painfully hard, and knowing it’s because of you makes your stomach flutter with butterflies.

He brings his hand to your jaw, softly running his fingertips over your skin. The pad of his thumb rubs your bottom lip before roughly poking into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. The way your plump lips wrap around his thumb makes his cock throb.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” He rasps, “I’m going to ruin you.”

He removes his thumb, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. His hand wraps around his thick member, sighing from the pleasure. The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills him with an excitement he’s never felt before.

Tapping the head on your lips, he smirks, “Open.”

You do as he says, your tongue slightly protruding. He slowly shifts forward, his cock entering your salivating mouth. The second your lips close around him, his breath hitches and he’s fighting the urge to toss his head back. It feels so good, but he can’t take his eyes off of you.

He places his hands on the sides of your face, holding you steady as he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth. His groans fill the air, encouraging you to take him. Wet gargles and gags emit from you as he fucks your mouth deeper and deeper.

Tears brim in your eyes as he glides down your throat, dribbles of drool falling from the sides of your mouth.

“Look at you.” Rafe grunts, removing his hands from your face to pull his shirt off, before grabbing you again. “So desperate for my cock.”

His thrusts grow faster, the wet sounds from your mouth become louder. He’s full on using your throat as a toy to get him off. And you love every bit of it.

He takes his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth gnawing down on it to prevent his moans from slipping. You look so pretty on your knees, cheeks coated in mascara stained tears, slobber running from your mouth, luscious lips wrapped around his dick. He could cum from the sight of you like this.

His grip on your face tightens as his cock abuses your throat. He shoves himself all the way in and holds it there, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. He can feel your throat repeatedly opening and closing around him, instantly sending him into a euphoric state.

His abdomen flexes as waves of pleasure flood his body. His thighs twitch and his cock throbs, finally emptying his hot load down your throat with a loud moan. He gives a few more pumps before he removes himself from you, leaving you to swallow his cum.

After doing so, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him that you took it all. He grins, his hand encasing your face as he squeezes your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker in a slight pout.

“Such a good little slut for me.” He huskily breathes.

You nod as best you can with his grip on your face. He licks his lips and pulls you up to your feet, staring down at you with a look of utter desire.

“Hm.” He hums, brushing a hand through your hair. “Bet you want more, don’t you, Sis?”

You frantically nod as your heart pounds in your chest, your pussy throbbing with a carnal craving for him. “Yes. Please.”

He gives you that infamous smirk, one that should scare you away because you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but it only drawls you in more.

“As much as I love it.. Take it off.” He declares, nodding towards your little dress.

Your hands instantly grab the hem of the dress, swiftly pulling it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your pink panties. Your nipples harden from the cool air, and you bring your arms to your sides to provide warmth.

His eyes trail over your entire body, his semi hard cock already growing once again. His hands reach the sides of your thighs, warm fingertips trailing over your skin. They glide upwards, tracing over the strap of your thong. Dipping his fingers into the waistband, he pulls it out and lets it snap back against you.

Your breath hitches in anticipation, your core saturating the small fabric between your legs. His hands make their way up your body, touching every bit of skin. He firmly fondles and caresses every curve, memorizing every dip. Prominent goosebumps arise on your skin as his hands roam over it.

Your big doe eyes haven’t left his once, taking in the way he seems to be soaking you in. His palms softly engulf your tits, squeezing them tightly and massaging them in circles. His actions pull a soft moan from you as your head tilts a bit to the right.

“Fuck.” He whispers, stepping closer to you so that your bodies are flushed together. “You’re so perfect.”

Your face heats up at his compliment, burning beneath his touch as he places a hand on your cheek. His lifts your face up, his thumb delicately brushing over your cheek. His touches are so soft as if he’s not about to destroy you.

Leaning down, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, almost as if testing the waters. He places a few more. Then, like he can’t get enough, his mouth is on yours in a feverish kiss. He kisses you so deeply as one hand holds your face, and his opposite trails around to your ass.

He squeezes it harshly, pulling a moan from your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in between your parted lips, exploring the wet softness of your mouth. Your tongues dance together, moving perfectly in sync.

Rafe can’t believe it’s taken this long for you guys to kiss. He’s tasted you, buried his fingers in you, and his cock in your mouth, yet you’re only now kissing.

He’s never felt this way before. Kissing is usually just something he does to keep his mouth busy when fucking someone. But right now, with you, he doesn’t want to pull away. So, he doesn’t.

His hand moves from your cheek down to your neck, squeezing tightly as the kiss grows sloppier. He walks you backwards to the bed, falling on top of you when the back of your knees hit it.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and leaves wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He licks and bites your sensitive skin, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

He continues lowering himself on you, his lips leaving trails of saliva along your collarbones. His teeth nip your skin, tongue flickering just to taste you. His mouth meets every sliver of skin shown, none of you going untouched.

Your body is hot beneath him, and your insides feel even hotter. Your chest heaves with every deep breath you take, small pants and moans emitting from your mouth as he works on you. Your forehead begins to glisten with sweat, the air now hot around the two of you.

Rafe’s hands grasp your tits, thumbs instantly flicking over your hard nipples. He groans against your chest, inhaling the way you smell. His tongue pokes out, traveling to your boobs, his mouth marking the plump skin. He takes your right nipple in his mouth, sucking it and the skin around it as his hand words your opposite one.

You can’t help but arch into him, loving the feeling he’s giving you. You’ve been wanting this so bad, and now that you’re finally getting it, you’re on cloud nine.

“Rafe.” You whimper as he moves to your left tit.

“Mhm. I know, baby.” He moans into you.

Leaving your boobs wet with his saliva, he keeps going lower and lower, peppering wet open mouthed kisses along your stomach. He reaches the waistband of your panties and places a soft kiss.

You’re practically shuddering beneath him. The fabric between your legs is absolutely drenched with your arousal.

Rafe’s lips trail over the wet cotton, humming in satisfaction, “So fucking wet for me.”

His nose brushes against your clothed clit, causing your body to jerk from the feeling. He smirks against you, and deeply inhales, taking in the scent of you with a hungry moan. His tongue pokes at your covered entrance and trails up your core, flicking over your bundle of nerves.

“So wet I can taste you through your panties.” He smirks, his finger grabbing at the side of the fabric.

He looks up at you, licking his lips at the way your mouth is slightly parted, heavy breaths emitting from it. He pulls the side of your panties over, revealing your glistening folds. With a watering mouth, he dips his tongue into your entrance and drags it up through your lips, right over your clit. You can’t help the lewd moan that’s pulled from your throat.

Not stopping there, Rafe drags his tongue up your stomach and through the valley of your breasts. He breathes you in deeply as his tongue glides up your neck, making his way towards your lips. He smashes his mouth onto yours, moaning into you, knowing he’s about to have so much fun and make you feel so good.

Your lips dance together in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting, teeth clashing. Your hands meet his broad shoulders, running down his muscular biceps. His hands run from your rib cage down to your waist, grinding his groin on yours. You pull away with a gasp, moaning at the sensation.

He leans back up on his knees between your legs. You watch as he wraps his hand around his shaft, slowly pumping it up and down. You roll your hips, needing some sort of friction as you’re desperate to be filled by him.

He puckers his lips and blows a kiss at you as he places the tip of his cock on your covered pussy. He begins rubbing it over the wet fabric, gliding up and down your slit, pulling soft moans from both of you.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos as you lean your head back.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, unable to form words with the trance he’s put you in.

He pulls your panties to the side once more, sliding his dick through your folds. The second he runs over your clit, your legs quiver. He lets go of your panties, holding them down over his member as he thrusts back and forth.

His head lolls to the side, taking a deep breath through his nose. The feeling of your soaking core and the wet fabric surrounding him is pleasurable enough to bring him close to the edge. Except, he’s not ready to cum again.

He pulls away, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. He grins and lets out a breathy chuckle, before his hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over with ease. You squeal at the sudden rough movement, but quickly get on your knees, arching your back as you lay your cheek on the pillow.

“Fuck.” Rafe groans, gripping your plump ass. “You’ve no idea what you do to me. So close to bending you over the couch and fucking you right in front of Top.”

A moan slips from your mouth as he kneads the fat, spreading your cheeks as he massages you.

“Yeah.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He snickers, “Love to act all innocent, but you’re really just a desperate little whore, begging to be filled by her stepbrother. Hm?”

You can only whimper at his words.

“You wouldn’t even care if everyone knew, would you? No… You wouldn’t.. You’d walk around a party with my kids dripping down your legs if I told you to.”

“P-please.” You beg, pushing your ass further into him.

“So needy.” He teases, finally pulling your thong down.

He stops at your knees, deciding to rip the thin fabric off, so he can keep you in this delicious position. A pout forms on your lips at the sound of him tearing your panties, but you don’t say anything because you know it’s going to be worth everything he’s about to give you.

He places his member at your slit, rubbing it through your folds to coat it in your fluids. Your breathing is erratic, and your stomach is flooding with excitement. You can’t help but push back into him again. His hand falls down on your ass with a loud smack, leaving a stinging sensation as you yelp.

“Be patient.” He orders.

His hand is instantly rubbing the red handprint, soothing the pain he left behind. Leaning over your ass, he puckers his lips and spits, watching the jewel of saliva trickle down your core. Just as it meets the tip of his cock that’s placed as your entrance, he’s slowly pushing into you until he bottoms out.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, your breath suddenly ripped from your lungs.

You feel so full. Fuller than you’ve ever been in your entire life. There’s a burning sensation, but it doesn’t compare to the pleasure you get just from him being buried inside you. You can’t help but clench around him.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, “Squeezing the hell out of me, sis.”

He slowly pulls back until just his tip is in you, and roughly rams back in, pulling a scream from you. He groans in pleasure as he begins pumping in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts.

“R-Rafe.” You whine out, repeatedly clenching around him.

His cock slides in and out of you with ease, the sound of your arousal squelching around you. His hands grip your ass, pulling you hard against him to meet every thrust.

“God, you feel so good.” He moans, picking up the force in his strokes.

Your ass jiggles in waves with every time he buries himself in you. The sound of your skin slapping is loud. His thrusts become fast and hard, digging into you so deep. Your hands clench the sheets beneath you, and you bite your arm to prevent yourself from screaming. It hurts so good.

The sound of your muffled noises bring Rafe’s attention from where you’re both connected to the back of your head. His hand instantly wraps around your hair and roughly tugs your head back.

“Nuh uh. Wanna hear your pretty little moans.”

As if it’s possible, his cock digs deeper into your spongy walls, pulling a loud pornographic moan from your mouth. Your whole body shakes with every movement of his.

“Yeah.. That’s more like it. Sound so fucking sexy.” He groans, smacking your ass as he pounds you.

At this point, you can’t help the continuous cries and moans that fall from your mouth. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your mouth is stuck slack. Drool falls from your lips, creating a small wet spot on the pillow below you.

Rafe pushes on your back, arching you even more as he leans over you. He’s so deep, it feels like he’s fucking your throat. He kisses your back, licking up your spine until he gets to your neck. His heavy pants and moans fill your ear, his hot breath leaving your hair standing up.

“What if mom and dad saw you like this?” He taunts in your ear. “What do you think they’d say? Hm?”

With every word he says, he digs deeper into your cunt. So deep that you’re almost crawling away. His grip on your hair tightens and he’s yanking your head back, keeping you still so he can fuck you as deep as he wants.

“Don’t run. This is what you wanted, right?”

Incoherent words fall from your lips, being overtaken by your loud moans. Rafe’s reveling in the fact that he’s damn near fucked you stupid already.

“S’too much!” You cry out, finally able to string words together.

He instantly pulls out and flips you over onto your back, before burying himself in you within seconds. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he fills you back up.

“This better for you? Hm?” Rafe grunts as he thrusts into you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. “Yeah. Missed your pretty face anyways.”

He watches as your face scrunches up in pleasure. Your brows knit together, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth stuck open as continuous lewd noises emit from it. You look so fucking perfect. He wants to have you like this forever.

“Your pussy feels so nice around me.” Rafe moans into your neck. “So good. Whose is it?”

You don’t respond with words, causing him to pull away and roughly grip your jaw. He stares down at you, his hand coming down on your face with a rough smack as he reiterates between hard strokes, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Mm. Y-yours. Rafe’s. F-fuck, it’s yours.” You cry out as the knot in your stomach becomes increasingly tighter.

His lips slam onto yours as his hips rut into you, the two of you molding together so perfectly. He kisses you like you’re the oxygen he needs to survive. It takes your breath away and you love every second of it.

Pulling away from your lips, his fingers replace his tongue and are shoving into your mouth. He pulls a gag from you as his nose brushes against yours. Using his fingers to pull your mouth open, he spits in it, then fiercely kisses you as his hand travels down your body.

Just as he brings his hand down to rub your clit, you hear a door slam downstairs. You immediately tense up, but Rafe doesn’t falter. He continues to relentlessly pound into you, making it so fucking hard to be quiet.

“Uh-oh.” He feigns fear, “Someone’s coming.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t let up on his thrusts or his circles on your clit. His taunting eyes bore into you as he watches your entire body quake.

“Do you want me to stop?” He teases, instantly slowing his strokes.

“No!” You cry out, “No, no! Fuck. Please-please don’t stop.”

He picks the pace back up, causing your insides to twist. “You sure? We might get caught.”

His tantalizing words push you over the edge. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. Euphoria floods your veins, and white stars dance in your eyes. Your juices pour out of you faster and harder than they ever have before.

He loudly groans at the sight of you coming undone beneath him, “Fuck, I knew you were a slut. Getting off at the thought of being caught with your stepbrother. Such a naughty girl.”

You can’t help the moans that leave your mouth as he pumps in and out of you. His strokes grow sloppy, indicating he’s close. His hands meet your tits, gripping them and using them as leverage to keep you still while he fucks you.

You clench around him once more, coming down from your high, and it makes his hips stutter as he fills you up with a loud moan. He keeps fucking into you deep, emptying his load so far into you. You moan from the warm gushy feeling of him painting your walls.

Very slowly, he comes to a halt, but before he can pull out, loud knocks ring through the door and Sarah’s voice is heard from the other side. “Rafe! Who the fuck do you have in there?! You guys are loud as fuck, it’s gross.”

Your eyes widen in fear and Rafe just smirks down at you, calling out to her, “Oh, just my favorite slut.”

Her words of disgust fall on deaf ears as she walks away, leaving the two of you to bask in the pleasure you both received. Your doe eyes staring up at him, his warm eyes gazing down at you, filled with adoration.

“I mean it by the way.” He whispers against your lips. “You are my favorite.”

You roll your eyes as a blush paints your cheeks, “I better be your only.”

He chuckles and plants a sweet kiss on your lips, “Of course you are. That’s why you’re my favorite. Now let’s go shower, I’m not done with you yet.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

taglist : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

#dark obx #obx imagine #obx s2 #obx s3 #obx smut #obx x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #j speaks #stepbrorafe #step bro rafe #obx rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe fics #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #smut #step bro #stepcest #fav trope

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.  “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

-

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion. 

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.” 

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes. 

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.” 

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.” 

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t. 

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed. 

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from. 

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying. 

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

– 

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well. 

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says. 

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming. 

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself. 

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly. 

Damn him. 

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.” 

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully. 

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time. 

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled. 

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car. 

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely. 

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door. 

“Hey–” 

“Sorry, my room is here.” 

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?” 

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside. 

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year. 

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious. 

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you. 

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan. 

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is. 

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer. 

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him. 

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat. 

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit tighter than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still). 

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.” 

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his. 

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking. 

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle. 

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.” 

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed. 

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.” 

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.” 

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous. 

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!” 

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.” 

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room. 

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room. 

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy. 

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for. 

But you’re fucking terrified. 

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan. 

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you. 

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try. 

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve. 

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.” 

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft. 

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him. 

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.” 

You frown. “What’s your point?” 

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.” 

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger. 

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.” 

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying. 

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh. 

“Touche.” 

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so raw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve. 

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him. 

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment. 

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place. 

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot. 

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now. 

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo. 

“I just want to be loved.” 

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you. 

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now. 

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him. 

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love. 

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand. 

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested. 

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are  closer than the average friends, regardless of gender. 

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more. 

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically. 

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion. 

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions. 

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?” 

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

– 

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up. 

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you. 

Dustin confessing about Dart. 

Locking the Demodog in your cellar. 

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response. 

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve. 

Dart going missing. 

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night. 

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.  

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it. 

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip. 

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee. 

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.” 

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.” 

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide. 

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?” 

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes. 

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store. 

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother. 

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?” 

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet. 

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.” 

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?” 

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him. 

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive. 

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?” 

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. 

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!” 

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.” 

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure. 

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are. 

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.” 

“But–” 

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready. 

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy. 

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says. 

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–” 

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money. 

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car. 

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him. 

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting. 

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop. 

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news. 

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before. 

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night. 

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?” 

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.” 

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively. 

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?” 

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble. 

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel. 

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you. 

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.” 

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!” 

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.” 

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade. 

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?” 

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.” 

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself. 

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves. 

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile. 

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you. 

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say. 

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands. 

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him. 

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel. 

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at. 

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party. 

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago. 

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house. 

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles. 

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you. 

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.” 

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks. 

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live. 

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down. 

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares. 

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat. 

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.” 

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him. 

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now. 

You guys had one emotional conversation. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for. 

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?” 

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment? 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk. 

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.” 

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!” 

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–” 

“Says you,” you butt in. 

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car. 

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now. 

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him. 

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused. 

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat. 

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year. 

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place. 

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene. 

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.” 

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.” 

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait. 

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment. 

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.” 

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts. 

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. 

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens. 

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?” 

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles. 

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.” 

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.” 

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” 

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles. 

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.” 

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.” 

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.” 

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?” 

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always. 

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back. 

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks. 

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.” 

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off. 

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies. 

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies. 

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure. 

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party. 

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.” 

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly. 

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy. 

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life. 

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues. 

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways. 

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.” 

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.” 

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you. 

“Well, isn’t that ominous.” 

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin. 

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait. 

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?” 

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?” 

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up. 

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.” 

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?” 

“Because you’re terrible with girls.” 

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.” 

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” 

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.” 

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.” 

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze. 

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.” 

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.” 

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him. 

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.” 

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.” 

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully). 

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence. 

– 

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday. 

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed. 

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys. 

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl. 

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit. 

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas. 

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well. 

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better. 

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers. 

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness. 

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you. 

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins. 

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise. 

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at. 

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps. 

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive. 

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base. 

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus. 

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours. 

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?” 

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon. 

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one. 

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them. 

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat. 

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab. 

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus. 

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual. 

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” 

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range. 

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up. 

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose. 

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window. 

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you. 

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard. 

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds. 

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down. 

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him. 

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve. 

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does. 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart. 

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work. 

It has to work. 

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat. 

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him. 

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave. 

Steve saved your life last year. 

Now it’s your turn. 

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering. 

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle. 

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you. 

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve. 

Well, at least the live bait plan is working. 

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars. 

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you. 

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart. 

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear. 

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own. 

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon. 

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs. 

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there. 

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well. 

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges. 

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run. 

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear. 

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!” 

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door. 

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body. 

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth. 

Awesome. Cool. 

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her. 

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you. 

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever. 

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting. 

“Never been better,” you wheeze out. 

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual. 

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs. 

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more. 

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams. 

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you. 

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away. 

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day. 

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours. 

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” 

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left. 

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you. 

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you. 

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.” 

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.” 

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps. 

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy. 

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further. 

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety. 

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group. 

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into. 

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.” 

-

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Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: VENUS AS A BOY - BJORK word count: 3k bb note: sungchan is so Venus as a boy coded

Its 4:37 a.m. when you finally close your laptop for the evening.  Your skin feels like shit and you’re practically vibrating from the amount of espresso shots that were in your iced latte.  You haven’t moved from your desk since noon, only taking miniature breaks to go take a piss and grab a quick snack.  Finals week always makes you feel barely human.  When you finally turn off dnd on your phone, your met with a trillion notifications, but only a specific person holds all your attention.  Your heart lurches when you see Sungchan’s name under missed calls, you almost feel guilty recalling your demand you made earlier this week, almost. 

-

“Are you serious?”

“Sungchan, please I am quite literally begging.” 

“Baby, I just don’t understand why you don’t want to study with me...” 

You know damn well he knows why and just wants to make you say it.  You look at him with a bored expression on your face.

“You’re distracting.”

When he feigns confusion at your simple response, you roll your eyes before continuing.  

“Fine.  If you want me to be vulgar I’ll be vulgar.  We both know that I want to fuck you all the time.  You know that it only gets worse when I’m stressed.  I can’t sit there with you and just study when 90% of the time all I can think about is jumping your bones.”

“90% of the time, huh?” 

You want to kiss the stupid smug grin off of his face, but you settle instead for turning your back to him, trying to steel your resolve.  

“It’ll only be a week… it can’t be that hard, right?”

-

Except that’s absolutely not true because why would he ever make things easy for you?  It’s only been a few days since, and you can no longer count on both hands the amount of times you have had to stop yourself from driving to his place. It’s not even his fault, for the most part.  Your boyfriend is just so hot.  You swear BeReal is plotting against you when the timer has just so happened to go off every day this week when he’s in the gym.  How are you supposed to contain yourself when he walks around looking like that, and always so willing to give you what you want.  You’ve had to pause in the middle of studying a couple of times this week just to get yourself off.  Truly you are no better than a man.  

Sungchan himself has pleaded with you a couple of times to just let him come see you.  Trying to explain to you that you’re being ridiculous.  In his head he can’t understand why you won’t just let him be there to help relieve your stress.  He knows that you’re the insatiable one in this relationship.  You having explained to him after you first slept together that your sex drive tended to be high.  And he’s always been more than willing to help you out, whether it be fucking you exactly the way you need after a long day or bringing you to a tender release with his mouth first thing in the morning before you go to work.  He knows exactly what you need when you need it, so he can’t understand why you’re torturing yourself (and him) now. 

chan <3: plz let me come over 

Needless to say you absolutely weren’t expecting to receive a message from him this late at night.  

You: Why r u up??? 

chan <3: ochem :/

chan <3: I need to see u :(

You want to ignore the message, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t subconsciously press your thighs together.  All you’ve been able to think about since you last saw him is how bad you need him.  You can only do so much with your own fingers, and each time you get off has just been less and less satisfying.  Before you even get a chance to respond another message comes through. 

chan <3: im coming over

Immediately you rush to jump in the shower, not exactly feeling the most desirable in the ratty t-shirt you’ve been wearing for the last 2 days and your unwashed hair.  You tell yourself you’re not gonna let him stay over.  That all you’re gonna do is give him a quick kiss and a hug, just so that both of you can see that the other is doing fine.  And then you’re gonna tell him that you’ll see him in a few more days, after your last exam.  You say this to yourself even as you forego throwing on a bra.  You say this to yourself again as you pull up your sleeping shorts without putting on any underwear.  You tell yourself this one last time as you climb under your sheets, making yourself comfortable against your pillows.  When the familiar sound of your apartment door unlocking finally comes, you feel yourself become nervous suddenly, voice shaking as you holler that you’re in your bedroom.  

You try your best to act like you weren’t waiting for him, but you fail when as soon as you see him standing in your doorway you immediately open your arms wide for him to join you.  He lays himself next to you in your bed, wrapping his arms around your middle resting his head on your chest as you leave kisses on his forehead.  Immediately you feel comforted by his presence, your mood doing a 180. The both of you stay like this for a moment, just holding each other, feeling the exhaustion in your bones.  It’s him who breaks the silence. 

“Missed you.”  

He looks up at you when he says it, his tired eyes making your heart turn.  You can tell that he also just showered, his hair slightly damp and face covered in a light sheen from his skincare products, pimple patches and all.  You love being with him like this, tired and both of your faces bare, it feels like the both of you truly see each other.  

“”m so tired.” 

You sigh as you rub your eyes, truly you’re so exhausted.  Stress has been wrecking your body and making you feel wound too tight.  Not seeing Sungchan has only made it worse, making you feel touch starved and lonely on top of everything else.  He can already tell without you having to say it that it’s been a long couple of days for you.  He knows how hard you can push yourself to succeed.  Being told your whole life that you’re a hard worker only fueled your anxieties of being the best you could be, afraid to let everyone down.

“Let me take care of you.”  

You look down at him still resting his chin on your chest as he says so, his pretty lips pulled into a pout.  

“Just want to help you relieve your stress, will you let me do that for you baby?”  

You feel your pussy throb at this.  It makes you feel good to know that just as much as you always want Sungchan, he always wants you too.  When you don’t say anything he moves to slot himself between your legs, planting soft kisses against your jaw.

“I need to make my pretty girl feel good.  All I’ve been able to think about these last few days is fucking you.”

You can feel that he’s already half-hard as he rocks his hips against yours, a gentle sigh falling from your mouth at the smallest bit of pleasure.  

“..please.”  

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s pushing your shirt up to your hips, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you fully against him.  He moves his lips gently against yours as you softly moan into his mouth.  You feel so sleepy even right now, everything feeling like a dream as he grinds against you, panting into your mouth.  

“Felt like I was going crazy without you.  I was waiting for a call from you, telling me that you needed me and I was ready to drop everything.  You’re all I could think about.”  

You might be the insatiable one in this relationship but Sungchan is a close second.  For every time that you needed him to make you feel good, there was a time where he needed to make you feel good.  There’s nothing in this world hotter to him than the effect he has on you.  

“Your stupid fucking BeReals made me have to take several… study breaks.”  

Your ears burn hot as you admit this, casting your eyes to between your bodies watching as Sungchan rolls his hips into yours.  Heat blooming in your chest seeing the way the two of you fit perfectly together.

“I wanted to cave so many times… I’m happy you came over.” 

His heart swells in his chest hearing you say this. Placing a tender kiss against your cheek before he pulls away to pull your shorts off.  When he comes face to face with your bare cunt when he was expecting panties, he feels like he’s gonna combust.  

“Jesus y/n, you drive me fucking crazy.”  

He wants to be cocky about it, tease you for having such shit resolve when it comes to him, but he’s so hard it hurts.  You look so soft and tender, hair still damp from the shower, your old t-shirt still on along with your glasses.  He leans on an elbow as he reaches a hand down to play with you, when his fingers brush against your core you’re already soaked. When he looks up at you in silent awe your hands are covering your face, trying to shy away from his gaze.  

“I can’t help it..” You mumble out from behind your hands.  

He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer, slipping two fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness.  He rubs them along your clit briefly just to hear your gasps, rutting his cock against your thigh as he does so.  He moves to pull your hands away from your face as he lines his fingers up with your hole.  Pressing them in he revels in the way you shut your eyes in bliss, mouth falling open.  He feels cocky now, smirking to himself at the way you moan when he crooks them up once they’re fully inside, rubbing up against your top wall.  

“Sungchan fuck..” 

You reach out for him, pulling him down to kiss you while his fingers play with you.  You stay like this for awhile, just making out as his fingers play with you.  He slides in a third to feel the way you gasp into his mouth.  When you arch your chest into his he almost dies at the way he can feel your nipples through your t-shirt.  

“You’re so needy, baby.”  

He presses kisses all over your face as he says this, sliding his fingers out of you to give your clit some more attention.  

“Why are your clothes still on.. this is so unfair.” 

He laughs to himself when you say this, finding it cute the way you try to make demands even as your body is twitching, caving in on itself from the pleasure.  

“Sorry baby, ‘m just gonna make you cum like this real quick, and then I’ll take them off, deal?” 

You can’t even process what he’s saying anymore, just nodding your head as you rock your hips up into his hand.  He slips his fingers back into your cunt, palm grinding into your clit as he finger fucks you.  You’re so distracted by his fingers you don’t even notice that he’s pushed your shirt up to your tits until you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples.  Unsure what to do with your hands, all you can do is claw at the sheets, body so overwhelmed from the pleasure.

You cum just like this, the only warning Sungchan gets is the way your body seizes up, your moans reaching a whinier pitch.  He groans at the feeling of you sporadically clenching around his fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm.  Only coming to a halt when you try and push his hand away.  You shudder as he pulls his fingers out, your throat feeling dry as you lay there, boneless.  He’s tender with the way he treats you after, leaving kisses all over your face.  

“So good to me baby, you feel better?”

You nod your head, slowly blinking, still trying to come down from your first high.  When you finally find the words to speak there’s only one thing you can say.

“Goddamn.”

You don’t even care that he smirks to himself at your comment, he deserves to be cocky right now.  When he moves back between your legs, you can already feel heat blooming again, setting your nerves alight.  You can see how hard he is through his sweats, dick straining against the fabric.  Sungchan already knows that cumming once is never enough for you, which is why you want to slap the smug grin off of his face when you hear him ask,

“You want to go again?” 

When you glare at him trying to seem threatening, he can only laugh at how cute you are.  Bringing his lips to yours to kiss the pout off your face.  He leans back on his heels to pull his long sleeve over his head.  You feel yourself throb when you see his body.  You were never one to care about muscles or whether or not someone goes to the gym, but you can’t help but admire all of Sungchan’s hard work.  

“Chan, you’re so handsome.” 

Sungchan feels himself blush at the compliment, filling with pride when you admire him so openly.  He goes to pull down his sweats, freeing his dick from the restrictive fabric.  

“You’re gonna sit there and tease me for not wearing panties, when you show up at my door without boxers on under your sweats?”  

You can’t even sound mean right now because you just feel desperate.  Trying to sound authoritative while simultaneously spreading your legs a little wider to make room for him.  

“Can’t help it I needed to make myself easily accessible to my baby.”  

Now it’s your turn to blush, rolling your eyes like you’re not affected.  He digs a condom from his pocket before sliding it on, you want to make a joke about why it was there in the first place, but the joke dies in your throat when he’s finally lining himself up between your legs.  He runs the head of his cock up and down your slit a few times before finally, finally, pushing in to your wet heat.  The stretch is so good, as he gentle eases himself into you, bringing a hand to thumb at your clit.  The slide easy with how wet you already were from your previous orgasm.  Sungchan loves the way your body opens up for him so easily.  

When he finally bottoms out, both of you just sit there panting.  You take in the sleepy look on Sungchan’s face and think about how yours must mirror his, recalling how it’s close to 6 a.m. now.  You bring a hand up to his cheek, just looking at him as you whine from how deep he feels in you, making you feel so full.  When you finally nod for him to start moving, he pulls out slowly before pushing back in just as slowly, hips reaching deep within you.  Sungchan knows that now is one of those times where you just needed to feel him close.  He fucks you just like this, slow but making sure to sink all the way in each time so you feel full.  

You’re so tired your eyes are starting to slip closed at the pleasure, just feeling so good and so sleepy.  Sungchan sees this and brings himself up to murmur against your ear.

“‘m I fucking you good?”  

All you can do is nod your head, gasping out each time he reaches deep within you.  

“’m I fucking you like you deserve?”  

When he feels you clench around him he keeps talking.

“My needy girl deserves to be fucked exactly how she likes.  You’ve been working so hard baby, just let me take care of you.  Let your pretty boy fuck you good.”  

Sungchan pulls away to rest his head in the crook of your neck, hips picking up the pace.  You bring a shaky hand to the one he has stationed by your head, urging him to lace his fingers with yours.  His heart feeling tender at the action, the gentle affection a heavy contrast to the way his hips are repeatedly rutting into yours.  The both of you are fighting to stay awake, fueled by the need to get each other off.  Sungchan knows you’re close when your moans start to change in pitch.

“You gonna cum?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you hum a simple “mhm” back to him.  Sungchan uses all the energy he has left to fuck into that tender spot within you, hips refusing to let up.  

“Cum pretty girl, then we can go to sleep.” 

You just nod your head, wrapping your arms around him, trying to bring your face to his.  Sungchan takes the hint, softly pressing his lips to yours as he fucks into you one, two, three more times before you’re whimpering against him, body twitching as he feels you seize up around him.  He follows close behind, spilling into the condom as you twitch around him, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his face contorts from the bliss.  When he’s done going through the motions, he pulls out of you, hissing from the sensitivity.  He disposes of the condom before pulling his sweats back up, cleaning you up quickly with a damp towel trying his best to be gentle, putting a clean pair of underwear on you before finally sliding next to you in your bed.  

When he cuts the lights off you can see that the sun is starting to shine, both of your eyes feeling heavy as he wraps himself around you.  Before you both doze off you hear him mumble one last thing.

“I really did miss you.” 

You smile to yourself, placing a kiss on his pouty lips. 

“I missed you more Chan.”  

#riize smut #riize x reader #sungchan #sungchan x reader #sungchan smut #riize hard hours #sungchan hard hours

[shegetsburned]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | part ii ‧₊˚ 𓐐⋅

• — ft. shiu kong. kinji hakari. choso kamo. atsuya kusakabe. hiromi higuruma.

bon appétit !! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐮 𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐠

so i think this man loves to try new dishes and makes you try new things with him with a giant grin on his face.

normally he’d take you to fancy restaurants, but this time he wanted to do something just the two of you in a calmer place.

hates for you to do anything so he’ll insist on doing everything himself so that you could relax while he cooks.

he already had an idea as soon as you guys agreed on doing this. and you can be sure as hell it involves cheese. man adores cheese, so if you do too, you’ll be served.

this time, just for you, he went out himself on his day off and bought the runniest cheese you’ve ever seen in your life. we all know these are just the best kinds.

this afternoon, you were served a burrata. it’s a soft, white, cow’s milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. hard on the outside but filled with stracciatella on the inside which is more creamy. served with candied cherry tomato with a piece of buttered and grilled bread.

as you take a bite of the cheese he admires every expression of yours and a warm laugh echoes through the room when you show how tasteful it is.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢

honestly, i’m thinking fast food or something.

or maybe just take-outs but in an expensive asf place.

i feel like he loves food but prefers ordering instead of cooking. he finds cooking boring and we know how much this man hates boring stuff.

will buy you whatever the hell you want, doesn't slightly care how much you want to eat, he'd buy the whole restaurant if he could.

you can get whatever you want, there is no way you can be disappointed with the meal. in a way, he ensures you’ll eat something you like by letting you choose what you want, which certainly satisfies him.

also prefers to stay cozily at home with you to eat than actually go out. so expensive take-outs it is. you don’t even have to lift your butt off the seat. it’ll all come to you.

you’ll get your favorite meal and he won’t hesitate a second to buy it for you. might seem boring but he really would buy you anything you want and silently watch you hum with pleasure every time you take a bite of that dish. your happiness is what matters.

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨

i have a feeling he has no idea what humans prefer to eat in this day and age so he’d do a thorough internet research to know what you’ll undoubtedly like.

“what is the most liked dish in the world?” “what do humans prefer to eat the most?” “how do i cook chicken?” “what’s the easiest, but best dish to make?”

all of this research would make him think it’s either spaghetti or pizza. and he’ll choose spaghetti, because of you know which flashback with his little bros.

sticks his tongue out while he’s preparing your meal, trying to get every portion down to the tiniest milligram right. he wants it to be perfect. and he probably thinks it’ll ruin the whole dinner if the portions aren’t right.

i’m thinking of carbonara pasta. you know the real version using eggs and pecorino with a touch of lardons.

once you take the first bite, he stares at you, patiently waiting for any sign of distaste or displeasure. there’s no way he botched it. everything is right down to the tiniest detail. and he can tell he’s done it when you quickly finish your plate and ask for more. there’s nothing making him happier.

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐞

he’s big on fishing so i’m thinking one of the fish he caught. his favourite.

something simple but still good and he’d find the freshest and best ingredients for you.

he’s been fishing for a long time and has acquired enough knowledge and skills to know which ingredients are best served which certain types of fish. you definitely won’t be disappointed.

will prepare everything in advance, removing the pin bones in advance and every part that isn’t edible. he does it just to be sure it’ll be ready for when you’re here. also, he knows it’s way safer that way, knowing he won’t be rushing to cook it later.

man does not want to mess this up and has never worked so hard to make a perfect meal, brows connecting as he works his tired ass off. he cannot mess this up considering you’ll be the one eating it.

how about braised alfonsino/kinmedai with some rice and avocado on the side? all gently simmered in a flavorful sauce made of soy sauce, sake, mirin and ginger.

he exhales abnormally loud as soon as you finally show a smile after having a taste. all the pressure now off of his shoulders. you don’t know how glad this man is that you enjoy the fish he personally caught for you. i know he’ll now think of you every time he goes out fishing, wondering which fish you’d like most.

𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚

i just know in my heart, or at least believe, that he’s distinguished and the meal will cost him a fortune.

only the best and most expensive ingredients for you, dear.

don’t be surprised if you come back to a candlelight dinner prepared by your one and only, while he sips the most delicate wine, waiting for you.

by the way, he knows so much about wine and beverages. he knows exactly what you like and what would be a perfect mixture with the meal he prepared.

also when he cooks he likes to take his time, preparing the meal with love and attention knowing it’ll be for his one and only.

so for him, i’m thinking of seafood. he’ll serve you flamed cornish lobster with a yakitori marinade and a ponzu mayonnaise. there’ll be a garnish made of sliced radishes and nori strips. the presentation leaves you baffled. it looks like it came straight out of a five-star restaurant. it smells absolutely divine and you can’t expect less from this man.

when you start digging in, he can’t help but smile while he looks at you with tenderness and love. if he could, he’d look at you through the whole dinner and watch you enjoy that delicious meal he prepared.

© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

#divider by plutism #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #shiu kong #jjk shiu #shiu x reader #hakari kinji #jjk hakari #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk #can you tell i like cheese #hakari x reader #atsuya kusakabe #kusakabe x reader #jjk kusakabe #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #food

[rowanswriting]

“CALL ME, BAMBI.”

Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader smut

this idea came about from a conversation that Mariah and I had @reidsbtch she also beta read for me for this one ((and helped me out so much I love you mar mar!)) I hope you all enjoy it I am so nervous about this, but have poured myself into it! Once again, only read if you’re 18+ please!

Warnings: basic dirty talk/name calling, mutual masturbation, mentions oral male receiving, degradation, if there’s anything I miss just let me know!

Summary: Eddie gives you the best gift you’ve ever gotten before heading out on tour.

word-count: 2.4K

“What’s this baby?” You ask curiously, looking up at Eddie his smile was so big you didn’t know how his face wasn't hurting. “Your last present, had to get you one more Doll and this one is very special.” You squint at him, slightly nervous at the tone of voice he was using. You shake the box slightly, hearing something heavy thump around in it. “Go on Bambi, open it.” He says, sitting down next to you on the plush carpet of your bedroom floor, your cat rubbing up against his leg lovingly before walking away somewhere, seemingly uninterested in the gift exchange.

You slowly rip the paper off of the box in your lap, smiling fondly at your boyfriend, you had emphasized that you didn’t actually need anything for Christmas but Eddie couldn’t stomach not getting you something. He spoiled you instead, before taking you to your room for your ‘big surprise’ or at least that’s what he called it. Once the wrapping paper is scattered over your floor you gently pull the box top off, looking down inside of it as your mouth drops open. “Eddie….” You trail off slowly reaching inside the box and pulling out a silicone dildo, only it wasn’t a store bought one, this was custom made. It looked just like Eddie’s cock, same vein on the underside, it even had the piercing at the top. You slowly looked over at the devil sitting next to you known as your ‘boyfriend’, shaking your head. “Baby, how did you even make this?”

He smirks at you while launching into this story of how he had to order this special kit at the sex shop, and wait until he was hard so he could stick his dick into the material, creating an exact replica of himself. You can feel your cheeks getting hotter and hotter the more he talks, you put the box down next to you quickly before grabbing onto his shoulders, swinging your leg over him to straddle his lap. He stops his rambling to look at you, his eyes full of the mischief that you fell in love with the first time you saw him. “I love it so much, love everything you’ve given me, baby, but I have to ask why? I already have the real deal right here.” You say, giggling slightly as you grind your ass down against his lap. He groans quietly, grabbing onto your hips and digging his blunt nails into them.

“My tour is coming up soon, and I just didn’t want you to go without. Couldn’t leave my sweet little Bambi with nothing to play with now could I? That wouldn’t be very nice of me.” He said darkly, his eyes lighting up at the shiver that physically made its way through your body. “I want you to have fun with this baby, want you to ride it and think of me while you do, it’ll fill you up just like me, well I mean it is me, but it still won’t satisfy you enough. I want to leave you aching for more.” You slowly pull your face away from where it was resting against his chest, looking up at him and biting your lip, running your hands down his chest down to his belt, playing with it gently. “I promise I’ll think of you every second, there’s nothing else I could think of, baby, you’re all that’s in my head.” He kisses you softly, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear before you’re slowly getting up from his lap. The both of you were exhausted after getting up early to start your Christmas traditions together, there would be time later for intimacy for now you needed sleep, all you could think about was calling Eddie while he’s away, taunting him with the fact that your dildo is deep inside of you, this was possibly the best present ever.

“Have everything you need baby?” You ask, mentally going through the checklist you had created to make sure that your sweet metal head didn’t forget a single thing he needed for his tour. He nods, pouting slightly as he stands by your front door, shuffling his feet around nervously. “No I really don’t, I need you to come with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, one that makes your heart skip a couple of beats. You sigh, feeling a lump in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to drop everything and go with corroded coffin on tour, but you needed to work and your job wasn’t accommodating for extended vacations. “I wish I could baby, but you know I have to stay here, besides who’s going to keep Steve in check with the kids, Robin’s at college so someone has to help out.” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes playfully. You wrap your arms tighter around him, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll miss you so much, call me as soon as you get to your hotel so I know you’re safe.” You whisper as he lifts your chin gently, planting a firm and wanting kiss against your lips. “I’m gonna miss you too babydoll, don’t worry I’ll call as soon as I get there, we can fall asleep together on the phone just like we used to.” You smiled at the memory, when you first had met you spent a lot of time apart so long distance phone calls were all you could cling to. You feel yourself tear up as he kisses you a few more times , whispering goodbyes over and over before opening the door and slowly making his way over to the tour bus sitting in front of it, the rest of the band already on board and waiting for him. He turns around as he rests one of his hands on the bus door, smiling at you. “Bye, bye Bambi my love, don’t forget to call me.” He yells, blowing you a kiss. You giggle before blowing one back, he dramatically catches it and pretends to fall back against the bus as he holds his chest. “Bye, bye rockstar!” You yell, watching him get onto the bus, the door closing behind him. You sigh quietly, walking back inside and closing the door, slowly making your way to your room to make use of the gift Eddie just gave you on Christmas, you weren’t sure how you’d last months without him.

It’s been four weeks since Eddie left on tour, you haven’t used ‘the gift’ much to say the least, each time you look at it all you can think about is how you want Eddie here. You needed him, his touch, his kisses, his actual dick. You had made up your mind one night to call him and use it, he had been waiting this whole time for you to finally let him hear what you think about when you ride it, and if you were being honest you missed hearing how he talks to you when you were all worked up. You glance at yourself in your bedroom mirror, you look good, dressed in your best lingerie even though Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. You ran your hands down your chest, teasing yourself before shuffling your way over to your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand and pulling out the pink silicone toy, before you’re slowly laying back on your bed, grabbing the phone to punch in Eddie’s room number he had given you before their show tonight. You bite your lip nervously as your other hand that’s not holding the phone slowly makes its way into your panties, teasing your own clit as the line rings. Your breathing picks up every second, partly from touching yourself, but the anticipation of hearing Eddie speak to you like you’re some cheap whore also has you reeling.

The phone rings a few times as your heart pounds nervously, you aren’t sure why you are this worked up over phone sex with Eddie, but you needed him to pick up now. On the other side of the phone call, Eddie is rushing over to pick up, he knows it’s you and he can’t wait to tell you all about their show tonight. “Hey Bambi, I’ve been expecting your call.” He says into the phone, your breath hitches, his deep voice causing shockwaves throughout your body. He sounded slightly raspy from singing, and it was extremely hot. “H-hey Eddie.” You whimper out, trying to keep your moans at bay as you pull your panties off, throwing them across the room before you grab the dildo next to you. You run it up and down your slit a few times, teasing your clit before you’re sinking it into yourself slowly. You let out a quite ‘fuck.’ That doesn’t go unnoticed by your metal head. “What’s that sweetheart?” A knowing smirk breaks out over his face, he can hear you, the desperation, the way you’re trying to hold yourself back so he won’t catch on. He caught on very quickly, it wasn’t hard when all he could hear as soon as he picked up was your wet pussy and your breathy little moans that slipped past your lips without you realizing. “I- said fuck.” You mumble out, pushing the toy deeper inside of yourself as Eddie lets out a raspy laugh. “Oh baby, you’re finally using it huh? How does it feel, sweetheart? Are you all stretched out and ready for me?” He asks, you nod and realize he can’t see you before you let out a soft ‘yes’ as you buck your hips up, pulling the fake cock in and out of yourself as fast as you can go. “Need you.” You whisper, moaning as you hit the spot you’ve been searching for. Your legs shake as you try to keep moving your arm but it’s all becoming too much. “You sound so cute baby, all needy for me, it’s too bad I’m not there honey I would have my cock so far inside that cunt, fucking you so deep you’d feel it in your fucking stomach.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, you quickly pull the toy out of yourself before you’re sliding off of your bed, bringing the phone down with you as you push the dildo against the floor, suctioning it before you’re hovering over it. “Are you going to ride it for me like I asked you to?” He says, you can hear a slick sound from the other end of the call and you know his fist is wrapped around his cock right now, furiously stroking himself as he imagines exactly what you look like right now. “Yes-sir.” You say, sinking yourself down until you’re resting against the fake balls at the bottom of the dildo, you’re so full you can feel yourself throbbing harder and harder as the seconds go by, listening to your boyfriend tell you every dirty thought he’s had about you while you’ve been away. There’s one particularly naughty one that has you reeling, he’s telling you how he wants to fuck you on stage, in front of everyone to show them who you belong to, he asks if you’d like that and you can’t even get out words. You’re a babbling crying mess as you bounce yourself down onto the cock, over and over, tears rolling down your cheeks as Eddie taunts you. He loves it when you’re this way, he’s laughing at you as you whimper, and beg him to let you cum. “Hmmm, I dunno sweetheart, do you think you deserve to cum on a cock that’s not mine?” Your legs ache as you hold onto your nightstand with your other hand, going as fast as you can without falling over, your body is getting weaker by the second, you can hear Eddie trying not to moan, his breathing is ragged and all you can imagine is his sweaty chest heaving up and down as he tries to hold back from cumming for you.

“Yes! Fuck yes please sir, I can’t do it anymore let me cum on this dick Eddie please.” You whine, your own slick is running down your thighs, causing the floor to be a mess, your heart is pounding as you look up, catching a glimpse of yourself in your floor mirror, your pussy is stuffed full, clenching around your toy. You look like a complete whore, cheeks flushed, your hair is stuck to your face, drool is running out of the corner of your mouth that you didn’t even realize was there. “Fuck, you can cum Bambi, I know exactly what you look like right now and it’s delicious, I can’t wait until I come back home from tour baby, gonna fuck you on every surface of your house.” You almost drop the phone as you stop bouncing, your clit throbs as you begin to cum harder than you can remember cumming for a long time. “Thank you, Eddie oh-oh my god!” He laughs again on the other end, jerking himself a few more times before his jaw is clenching, his stomach tenses as he cums to the sounds of your pleasure. “That’s it baby give me all of your cum, little whore.” He moans, his fist now covered in his own release.

The only thing that can be heard is the both of you coming down from your highs, your heavy breathing in sync as you pull yourself up and off of your floor, the dildo slips out of you easily as you stand up on your wobbly knees, gripping the phone as if your life depends on it. You fall back onto your bed, shockwaves still running through your body as you curl yourself up with Eddie’s pillow. “I miss you so bad.” You say, closing your eyes and sighing. “I know baby, I miss you more, we only have two more months and then I’ll be home for a while, I don’t think we’ll leave the bedroom if I’m honest.” You both laugh, as you roll your eyes at him. “Okay horndog.” He snorts, “Says the one who just rode a replica of my dick so hard that she couldn’t speak.” You feel your face heat up as he laughs on the other end. “Okay Mr. Rockstar, no one asked you.” The both of you bicker playfully back and forth, talking for hours slowly slipping into a blissful sleep. You couldn’t wait for Eddie to come home, you knew his jaw would drop when you tell him that you want to ride your dildo and suck him off at the same time. Your little rockstar needed to hurry up and get back to you, so you could thank him for the best Christmas present you’ve ever had.

#eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie smut #rockstar!eddie smut #minors dni

[nanamiya3]

CEO nanami x fem reader - reader is nanami’s wiiife - mentions of food and gojo - reader probably has some anxiety and self esteem issues but it’s not super major - fluff & comfort - wc. 2.9k

hiii i haven’t posted in so long but i’m back just for this because what would happen if you visited nanami at work?? what would happen if he *gasp* forgot his lunch at home??

As Kento’s stay at home wife, your days usually go something like this:

The alarm rings at exactly 7AM, Kento’s glaring default tone waking you both. You frown, groggy and disoriented and still stuck in that land between awake and asleep as Kento’s arms tighten around your middle. He mumbles a little something, meant to be your name but completely unintelligible, before begrudgingly untangling himself from you. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, your soft, sleepy whines tugging at his heart. Kento heads to the bathroom as you head back to sleep, and he gets himself ready for the day while you curl up beneath the blankets. He cooks breakfast for both of you, wrapping up your plate and setting it on the counter with a sweet little note before wolfing down his own portion. He puts his coat on, grabs his briefcase and the bento you pack him every night, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving for work.

Except today, Kento makes a terrible mistake. He cooks breakfast, sets aside your plate, elegantly writes “this is the huckleberry jam satoru recommended, no promises that it’ll be good. endlessly yours, kento” on the sticky note by the food, tucks into the huckleberry jam toast (which is unfairly delicious) and eggs, dons his coat, grabs his briefcase, and kisses your forehead before heading out the door. The bento sits in the fridge, untouched and forgotten.

So, you wake up almost an hour after Kento leaves, yawning and stretching this way and that. You run through your typical morning routine before downing the breakfast with the huckleberry jam toast, cursing Satoru for being right about something for once and sending Kento a good morning and thank-you-for-the-breakfast text.

You move on, still oblivious to the bento sitting in the fridge, opening up your laptop to search for the perfect birthday gift for Kento. After an hour of research and brainstorming, you’re smiling down at the list of potential candidates: a new leather notebook (his current one is on its last leg, bursting at the seams with half-sentences and spontaneous thoughts scribbled across the pages), a new mouse (since his current mouse is apparently “too small” for him), a set of custom tailored suits in an array of colors (because if you walk into his closet and see one more row of sand beige suit jackets you might actually have to divorce him), a massage oil gift basket (Kento works so hard :( sometimes after a long day you give him a massage, letting the aromatherapy and kneading relieve his tension), a nude polaroid for his wallet (because… because… because he’s always calling you beautiful and pretty and before him you never actually believed it), and a pair of noise cancelling headphones (apparently Satoru makes the office too loud, and Kento’s been commenting on how noisy the newcomers at his gym are). The gifts aren’t very extravagant, especially considering Kento’s wealth, but you’d feel cheap if you used his own money to buy him an expensive watch that you both knew he’d never wear—he loves his current watch too much to replace it anyways.

Satisfied that you’re the best wife on the planet and deciding to treat yourself to a snack, you poke your head into the fridge and realize with a start: Kento left his lunch at home.

Knowing this is equal parts frightening and exciting. You’re worried, because Kento never forgets his bento, claiming your cooking is way better than the cafeteria that provides free meals for his employees. And, you’re excited, because Kento never forgets his bento, and that means you’ve never had to drop it off for him before. Kento doesn’t try to keep you away from his work—you’ve been to the dinners and charity events and whatnot—but he doesn’t encourage you to visit the office while he’s working either, claiming he’ll be too distracted to function. On the rare occasions that you do visit him, it’s late at night after everybody else has left, with you there to offer… moral support. So, while you’ve met most of the executives (like Satoru, who leaves a pretty abysmal impression), you’re still pretty unfamiliar with the actual office workers. And now, with the perfect opportunity to snoop around at Kento’s other life, you feel a small smile rising up on your lips.

You load the bento into your car, tucking it into the passenger seat gently. The drive over to Kento’s company’s building is filled with excited humming, and you’re grinning as you pull into in the underground garage after telling the security attendant you’re here to drop off your husband’s lunch. Kento doesn’t know you’re here yet, and if you’re being honest, it’s because you know he’d just meet you in the lobby to pick up the bento, signaling the end of your adventure. Even though you were certain Kento would never cheat on you, you knew there were definitely some people in the office that had feelings for him—look at him, for Christ’s sake! You wanted to figure out who: the receptionist? His secretary? Maybe even the head of HR? You’d never get all your snooping done if you couldn’t get past the lobby.

And of course, just because you wanted to get past the lobby, the universe didn’t let you you get past the lobby.

The issue is that you don’t have a badge. Every employee needs to scan their badge to get past the turnstile guarded by the receptionist and two security guards. So, you make a beeline for the receptionist, hoping to plead your case. You tell her your husband’s left his bento at home, holding the lunch up as proof. She remains stoic. You try again, telling her you’re Kento’s wife, that you’re married to the CEO. She laughs in your face, giving you a pointed once over. You’re upset now, because you know Kento’s out of your league but that’s not for her to point out, especially considering he’s miles above her as well. You narrow your eyes, setting the bento down on the counter with more force than necessary to text Kento that you’re in the lobby with his lunch. The receptionist tells you to leave the building. You spin the phone around, trying to prove to her that you really are messaging Kento, that you really are married to him, scrambling to find pictures from your wedding to show her—

There’s a tug on your arm, a rough “That’s enough” sounding from somewhere on your left and a firm “You need to leave” from your right.

You can’t believe this is happening. You try your luck with the two heavyweights about to throw you out of the building, pointing to your ring, pulling up the most recent picture of Kento you could find (a photo you secretly took of him at a small coffeeshop the two of you visited this past weekend). They shake their heads, rumbling about how you can’t enter the building without a badge or visitor’s pass, and then there are hands around your biceps, tugging you, and you’re digging in your heels, making a scene but beyond caring, twisting to try to go back and grab the bento from off the counter—

“Take your hands off my wife.”

Kento’s voice is loud, angry, and stern as it rings across the marble and glass in the lobby. The arms around you let go immediately, and you hang your head, nervous and ashamed about all the trouble you’ve caused. You hear Kento’s voice barking orders to the workers, you see him walking towards you, but your mind is a flurry of activity and it won’t settle down. This is so embarrassing—Kento just watched you get pushed around and he had to come to your rescue. What if you were interrupting a meeting? What if he’d been busy with paperwork before you texted him? What if he’d been mid-conversation with someone? What if he didn’t care about the bento at all? What if he’d already realized he left his lunch at home and decided it wasn’t worth trying to pick up? Maybe he’d already had lunch at the cafeteria and you were just bothering—

There’s a big, familiar palm caressing your cheek, a deep, familiar voice asking if you’re okay, a handsome, familiar blonde filling up your line of sight, a familiar warm brown pair of eyes catching yours. You snap out of your own head, nodding quickly, practically lunging to grab the bento off the counter, stringing together half-sentences and barely there statements in a rush to justify why you’re here. Kento’s nodding patiently, waiting for you to finish, gentle eyes watching your own dart around—he’s always been an excellent listener, attentively hanging on to your every word, even when you’re just stuttering out random, incoherent thoughts. You cut yourself off once you realize you’re probably wasting Kento’s time, extending the bento towards him, hoping your ramblings got your point across. He pauses, concerned about how jittery and anxious you look, before pushing the bento back towards you. You think your heart has just cracked and shattered so violently it was audible, because of course Kento’s already eaten—

“Why don’t we have lunch together in my office? We can share the bento and grab some food from the cafeteria,” Kento proposes gently. He doesn’t want you driving home while so nervous, and he’s more than willing to bet the receptionist said something nasty to make you so insecure and shaky. He knows you’ll overthink your relationship if left alone, so he wants to spend some time with you, making sure you don’t let anything that just happened get to your head.

And of course you agree, happy to spend time with Kento, letting him lead you away from the lobby. He’s murmuring a quiet “Wait right here” as you guys get to the elevator, walking back to the lobby to give the receptionist and security guards a stern talking to. He reprimands them for being so handsy and quick to judge, telling them that they’re to let you in immediately should they ever see you again. Kento’s exceedingly calm, but his low tone is steeped with anger, and he thinks these 3 should call themselves lucky given that they’re still employed. After a few more stammering “yes sir”s and apologies are divulged, he walks back to where you’re waiting, chewing on your lip while clutching the bento for dear life and stressing about how terribly wrong this has all gone. Kento’s hand travels down to your lower back as the two of you wait for the elevator, rubbing small circles to alleviate your anxiety. He apologizes again for how you were treated, asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if you want to go home instead of coming up to his office. You shake your head—it’s rare that you get to share lunch with Kento on a weekday, and plus, now that you’re finally in the building, you want to maximize your snoopage.

So, the two of you make your way up to Kento’s office, some part of his body touching yours the entire way: a hand on the curve of your back, an arm snaked around your middle, his hand laced with yours. And boy do people stare. This is the Nanami Kento, so strict and efficient in his work that people doubt his capacity for emotion. It’s no secret that Kento’s married, but just knowing that he’s married is very different from actually seeing his wife. And when the Nanami Kento’s wife is such a sweet, pretty thing, there are some raised brows. It’s so shocking that some people actually do a double take, squinting to check that your hand holding the bento really does have a ring on it.

The whispers follow the two of you until you’re finally standing in front of his secretary’s desk, right in front of his office. Kento introduces you, and you give her a nervous smile, extending your hand for a handshake and regretting it immediately, worried it might be too formal. As for his secretary, her mind is racing as well, all the times she’s tried to get him to stay later for drinks with the team, clearly interested in hooking up with him drunk, all met with a kind but firm “My wife is waiting on me,” flashing back to her. She reaches up to shake your hand, exchanging pleasantries, but her eyes are locked on your other hand, the one with the ring, the entire time.

Finally, you’re ushered into Kento’s office, and before you can even place the bento safely on his desk, his arms wrap around you, pressing you to his front, breathing you in. You feel a smile creep up onto your face, setting down the bento and twisting to face him, dropping your head onto his chest.

All of them. Every single one. That’s what you’ve decided. Every single worker in this building is undeniably in love with your husband. You nuzzle against Kento’s chest, mumbling about needing to cover his face when he leaves the house. Kento peers down at you, a little confused, but you just continue to press your face into him, letting your mind calm down before reminding Kento about lunch. Kento, if we’re being completely honest, has already forgotten about lunch, but he quickly straightens up, adjusting his glasses while muttering, “Right… right… the cafeteria.”

And you’re excited to snoop around the cafeteria as well. You’ve heard Kento’s laments about the budgeting: “We allocate so much money to providing the free meals and they still can’t make a decent loaf of sourdough. Do you know how much it costs us quarterly to source the ingredients and pay all of our kitchen staff? Love, it’s ridiculous. Some of these guys get paid more than our office workers and their budget goes up every year, but I still can’t get a good loaf of milk bread. If I had the time, I’d proof the dough myself.”

So, imagine your surprise when the elevator opens up to what might be the most well-designed canteen you’ve ever seen—it’s practically a maze of food. You’re shocked and excited, hands flying up to cover your mouth, and Kento’s looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. “It’s just food,” he mutters, clearly unimpressed with his company’s cafeteria—the same cafeteria which you’re now realizing spans the entire floor and includes a traditional wood fired brick pizza oven, an entire sushi bar, a self serve gelato station, and rows of peking duck roasting in a rotisserie oven, just to name a few. You’re completely flabbergasted, pulling a reluctant Kento forward, insisting on trying every single dish displayed. He grabs a tray, dutifully following you as you ooh and ahh over every section, the furrow between his brows deepening every time the tray becomes weighed down by another plate.

Eventually, Kento stops you, worried about the structural integrity of the tray, how the two of you will finish all of this food, and the fact that the dish with the chocolate cake is sitting fully on top of the crab cakes. You’ve got the sense to at least look a little embarrassed, offering to help carry the tray knowing full well you’d drop its contents in a heartbeat.

Back in Kento’s office, the two of you sit side-by-side with the tray in front of you and the bento in front of him. Kento seems content with the home-packed lunch, shaking his head when you try to offer him a bite of your food. As for you, you’re quickly realizing you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

“Wasting food is a sin,” Kento comments, pointedly glancing at the tray of food, still three-quarters full, his own lunch already polished off.

You blush, shooting him a half-hearted glare as best you could with a mouth full of food, doing your best to chew and swallow before giggling back, “You could at least help me! It’s your company’s food, if you don’t like it you should just change it. Come on, get to work!”

You’re both laughing, shaking your heads at each other, but Kento picks up his chopsticks and starts to help with the food. He makes faces at the butter and garlic steamed clams, claiming yours are better, but you just swat at him and remind him that lying is also a sin. He thinks you’re ridiculous, but even so, he cancels the rest of his meetings for the day, spending the remainder of his 9-5 feeding you bite after bite of chocolate cake, taste testing meringues off your tongue while lounging in his office.

And when Satoru barrels into the office to complain and ask Kento why he’s leaving Satoru to fend for himself at the executive meeting, he’s not the least bit surprised to find you curled up on Kento’s lap, dozing off while your husband reviews a stack of paperwork. Kento’s raising a finger to his lips, shushing Satoru, glancing down at you with so much love in his eyes Satoru might actually become physically sick. You shift in your sleep, snuggling up against your husband, and Satoru has to stop himself from laughing at how quickly Kento drops the file in his hands to stroke your hair, ensuring your nap is as comfortable and uninterrupted as possible. Kento almost forgets Satoru’s even there, slipping off his suit jacket (camel beige, starchy, ugly) and draping it over your curled up form, releasing a deep sigh when he hears obnoxious giggling and a singsonging “Nanaminnnn” coming from across the room.

“There’s a reason why I’m married and you’re single, Satoru.”

- yea, gojo stumbled out of the office with his hand clenched over his heart, pretending he was stabbed or some shit & everybody ignored him bc this is normal and he is dramatic (nanami pls throw away the tan colored suits)

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento #nanami jjk #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami x y/n #nanami fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk comfort #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami fluff

[lightlycareless]

hiii i rly love how you portray naoya and i really like how you got naoya's character on point like...... HOW

but like im imagining this headcanon wherein y/n and naoya are lovers and naoya brought up the topic of having an "open relationship" and naoya ends up getting no bitches/loses them in the process and y/n ends up getting approached by men who naoya respects a lot or someone he really looks up to and naoya becomes jealous and very insecure even though he was the one who wanted to open the relationship (reminds me of what you wrote about naoya's jealousy towards nanami)

Hello anon!

Awww, thank you so much ❤️❤️ I spent a lot of time thinking how to make Naoya as realistically possible, how to redeem him and such, which was difficult, but satisfying at the same time.

Yet, something a-hole behaviors of him would remain, lol it has to, or it wouldn't be him, you know???

And the open relationship thing is soooo in character for him. Ugh that man, seriously... As much as I want to deny it, I feel like he would bring it up (but in a universe he isn't like completely devoted to you, like he has yet to realize just how much you mean to him—all paths point to the same destination, it's just... how he gets there that matters lol)

Anyways, here are the warnings of this oneshot 😏: y/n has a harem essentially. gojo, suguru, nanami, and an extra one I've been dying to write. :)))) mentions of infidelity, naoya is a bastard. and a sprinkle of smut. fluff, and angst.

Without any further a do, happy reading!!

When the idea of an open relationship is suggested… the first of many fractures unwittingly struck your relationship.

First by shattering the image you had of him.

Sure, your feelings for Naoya remained, which is what made this ordeal far more painful…

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t harbor other emotions, such as anger.

“—just before we finally settle.” Is the lousy excuse he gives you when confronted, another stab to your heart. “Get it out of the system, you know?”

No. You don’t know, because for the past few years, Naoya is the only man you’ve had eyes for, to the point of imagining a future with him—and solely him.

It hurts to even consider he hasn’t been doing the same, probably already interested in some other woman, the reason behind his suggestion in the first place.

“I don’t want to…” you murmur, doing your best to not leave the table, or at least not shed a tear.

“It’ll only be a short time.” Naoya insists. “This way, we can know if we’re truly meant for each other. See if we don’t feel the same with others, hm?”

It’s stupid.

It really is—

Naoya’s suggestion… and your devotion to make him happy.

Because even after all the dumb things he said to justify the unjustifiable, you still wanted to please him.

“I guess we could go through restrictions or something, not that I have an—”

“No sex.” The rapid way in which you reply is something Naoya can’t help but find adorable, interpreting your eagerness as jealousy, overprotectiveness… before brushing it off as silly.

“Y/N—my love, you’re not seriously thinking we can reach a conclusion without that now, can we?”

Truth to be told, you didn’t want to find out. Not through this way at least, by laying in the arms of another…

Thus, could he really blame you for trying to fight it?

“Besides, don’t you want to try it out too?” Naoya smirks. “I’m fine with it, really. It’s a two-way street, after all. What’s good in me having all the fun?”

What hurts more?

That fact that Naoya wanted to pursue other women with your permission?

Or that he was pushing you onto other men, appearing careless to whatever you did or didn’t do with them?

It’s not that Naoya doesn’t care—far from that, really. He doesn’t like when men do as little as glance in your direction.

But he doesn’t worry because he knows there’s nothing to worry about.

Trusting that his hopelessly-in-love girlfriend would never betray him like that. Aware that your attention and devotion has been on him the moment you took him into your heart—and that no matter what, you’ll always come back to him.

It’s why he suggested the idea in the first place, because he’s long acknowledged that even past your limits, you still tolerate him.

Thus, unsurprised that you agreed to this change—Naoya leaving the apartment soon after that.

Looks like you were right in assuming he already had someone in mind to debut this new arrangement; willing to bet anything to prove he’s already on his way to her.

…Well, you hope that Naoya at least respects the only condition both agreed on: to not bring any partners to the apartment.

Not that you’d be there to see much of it anyways, opting to stay in your friend’s—Shoko— apartment for the time being.

“Can’t say I didn’t think him capable of doing something like that—but I guess I never thought he’d actually do it, not after dating you as long as he did.” She’d say, before taking a deep huff of her cigarette and exhaling.

You always found it endearing how she’d release the smoke to the side, as if it didn’t permeate the air around you… but at least Shoko cares enough to try. Not sure if you think the same of Naoya anymore…

“So much for having faith on him…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, offended yet intrigued by her implications.

“I mean, you knew of the rumors before dating him, Y/N.” Shoko adds, you sigh. That, you did. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but…”

“I guess I was hoping they weren’t real, either.” You slowly admit. “…What am I going to do, Shoko?”

A breakup isn’t exactly what you had in mind, certainly not what you wanted to do….

But why do that now when you could take advantage of this exploitable opportunity? An opening all too obvious to Shoko, which she doesn’t hesitate to let you know.

“Give him a taste of his own medicine.” She suddenly suggests. “He told you, didn’t he? That you were good to be with other men.”

“But I don’t want to.” You shake your head. “I don’t—I don’t think I can.”

“It’s exactly the same, just another face if that’s what you’re wondering.” Shoko explains, but to you, it was much deeper than that, always has been, for an emotional personal like you.

It’s why she was so angry that your beloved boyfriend was quick to disregard your feelings.

“Ok, sure, let’s say I agree.” You play along. “How do I even start? It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dating scene—I don’t even know if I’m still… desirable.”

Oh, if you only knew some were dying for this moment.

The first to approach you, and shockingly no less than a day after, was Gojo.

It was through an unexpected text, making you surprised he still had your number after all that time—or at all, considering you didn’t really text anyone outside of your family, close friends, and… Naoya.

Satoru once belonged to your social circle, but due to unknown reasons of his own, most likely to do with Suguru, he strayed.

Either way, you responded as amicably expected.

S: [Are you doing anything tonight?]

Y: [No… why?]

S: [Let’s get something to eat 😋]

Y: [Did you text the wrong person?]

S: [Wait, is this not Y/N’s number?]

Y: [It is…]

S: [Then I’ll pick you up later at Shoko’s apartment, 7 alright for you?]

Y: [Wait, how do you even know where I’m staying?]

S: [It’s a date, then! See you soon!]

It was good to see that Satoru remained as… well, pushy as ever. Not that you were glad to have been pulled into this outing without further precedent, but you eventually succumbed to the flow, and soon, you were in one of the fanciest restaurants of the city, sitting at a table Satoru had gotten through a reservation (difficult to do so given the status of the establishment, guess he can do anything that he sets his mind to), while chatting the evening away with just about anything that crossed his mind.

Regardless of how… oddly this situation came to be, you still found enjoyment in catching up with an old friend of yours. It had been so long since anyone had seen him, many even thought he had left the country all together.

Not that you had a way to know, since your connections were already limited thanks to Naoya—One of the many things you’ve had to sacrifice in to keep your attention solely on him.

…

Was your relationship with him always this consuming?

Well, you had lots of catch up with Satoru either way—it almost felt like you were getting to know him all over again! Happy to see that he essentially remained the same (somewhat irritating) goofball he always was.

But unfortunately, just as the good remained, the bad also prevailed, which you’d be reminded of when going for a walk around the city, just a few blocks down the main road when both were approached by a group of women, who upon catching sight of him and his undeniable attractiveness, knew they needed his attention.

That’s the thing with Satoru. Raised as the heir of a highly prestigious company, he just never got enough of it. Always wanting more and more, and not afraid to do whatever necessary to get it, careless if it was to the detriment of others.

Thus, you assumed it wouldn’t take long before he completely ignored you in favor of them, leaving you behind.

When talking about him, you normally wouldn’t care if he left you or not. He was just another friend, long accustomed to his ways. It was just… never like that.

But after all that happened with Naoya, it’s like your still-healing wound reopened, pain sharper when slowly reminded that even with a friend, you weren’t good enough to retain their attention, less their care…

Well, at least it was a good distraction, and you got to see Satoru again. You wonder how much would a taxi cost to take—

“Seriously, couldn’t you be any denser?? I’m on a date here!”

As if you’d been showered with a bucketful of ice-cold water, you freeze, blinking while slowly turning to see him and his angered face.

Did you… Did you hear him right?

“Get lost.” Satoru doesn’t even bother letting them respond before his hand is already on your back, gently pushing you forward and away from the group, leaving behind both the distraught, slightly spiteful women…

And your erroneous preconceptions.

As he goes back to the previous conversation you two were having, acting as if nothing happened, even suggesting getting something sweet to serve as dessert —your choice, he’d tease— all the self-doubt you felt for his actions immediately evaporates.

It was simple, more likely unintentional, but his gesture in defending your importance, highlighting the fact he wanted to be with you, against how he usually behaved…

Made you feel special, realizing that perhaps it wasn’t that hard to be somewhat of a decent person.

Yet, your feelings…

“It was a nice night out.” Satoru would say once parked outside Shoko’s apartment complex, signifying the end of your unexpected yet pleasurable evening with him.

“Yeah, it was… nice.”

“I hope we can do this again.” But you don’t keep your hopes up, not when your feelings for Naoya were still there, prickling at the back of your mind, inundating you with a sense of wrongfulness, for you were never one to offer the other cheek, regardless of what your estranged boyfriend was or wasn’t doing.

Unless Gojo were to do something to make you… well, not change your mind, but rattle your beliefs, if only for a moment, when he ruffled the top of your head, giving you a smile, before softly kissing your forehead.

Alongside the reminder that…

“You’re too pretty to be upset about someone like him.”

Albeit archaic, his words convinced you that perhaps… you could do with another day like this.

The second to approach you, yet again to much of your surprise, is Geto. Just a few days after Satoru did. Although his invitation was much more… palpable.

In other words, you were getting lunch with Shoko when he made his “sudden” appearance, joining the two for a bite, before driving both back to her apartment, only voicing his intentions when she was out the car, leaving you alone.

Although sweet, wholeheartedly intending to spend time with you, you could still that some of it lingered the realms of an unspoken competition between him and Satoru—which you didn’t know whether to be flattered by, or worried…

“—and let me guess. He spent the whole evening talking about himself.”

Somewhat, not that you cared to justify, really, for you were far more enthralled in learning all that he’s been up to since he left.

But it was the truth either way.

Geto sighs.

“We’ll do something better.” And so, is how the date begins, by first taking you to the mall, window shopping through essentially every store that crossed your path, while catching up with him—he too had disappeared for a while, motives unclear, although the common theory was that he had a nasty falling out with Gojo. But now it seems they’re on good terms given the way he occasionally mentioned him throughout the conversation.

Beyond that, you assumed Geto also took this visit as a good opportunity to go through some pending errands, maybe get something for himself as well—or… for someone else.

The things he was looking at were quite eye-catching, after all, very gift appropriate.

Regardless of who it was intended to, you were right to assume they were special to him if he was considering buying a diamond necklace…

But yet again, that’s what you believed—reality was simply much different.

Or obvious.

“Why don’t you try it on?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to try it on— I know it’ll look beautiful on you.” He’d say that, genuinely, with just about anything he deemed suitably for you, ranging from jewelry to clothes…

With your face flaring every single time.

“Oh—I—I don’t—” you stammer, struggling whether to decline his offer because this is all too luxurious for your taste…

Or because you were still processing the words that made you blush in the first place… alongside the fact that at one point, his hand had reached for yours without even noticing, intertwining his fingers with yours and staying that way while the two continued to walk around the mall.

Just… why did Satoru and Suguru decided to appear out of the nowhere?

“No, thank you.” Is what you eventually manage to say. If he’s noticed your nerves, he doesn’t say, instead, he simply gives your hand a soft squeeze, followed by another equally charming smile. “I don’t feel like trying out things either way.”

“Don’t worry about it, then. Perhaps another time.”

At his promise, you can’t hold back your skin from growing increasingly hotter, doing your best to instead focus on the movie the two agreed to watch, with little to no success, of course, considering Geto also took this opportunity to unconsciously drape his arm over your shoulders and move you closer.

While stereotypical, it still manages to fluster, and that’s how you’d remain for the rest of the date: even when getting something to eat, or when it was time to take you back to Shoko’s apartment once late enough.

But on the way back to the parking lot, you’re able to snap out of this trance when something catches your attention, just by the corner of your eye, effectively stopping you on your tracks.

Something simple, like a minimal black halter dress… unintentionally the same model you’ve wanting to try since forever, but never daring to do so, believing that your body was unbefitting of such style—and quickly, you moved on.

Your gaze didn’t linger much on it beyond a few mere seconds, certainly not for Suguru to notice, or so you considered…

But when the next day comes, a package is suddenly delivered at Shoko’s apartment, with your name on it, that by various personal reasons you open with great anticipation, growing distraught when seeing it had to do nothing with what you projected—

Quickly flustered upon realizing that the sender was Suguru all along, demonstrating his attentiveness by gifting you the same dress you saw last night, as well as his intentions of seeking something more with you.

“I enjoyed our time together. I wish to see you again—hopefully with this dress.”

You didn’t think you were too obvious when it came to your reaction, but at Shoko’s mention, you finally acknowledge you’ve been smiling, heart loudly pounding against your chest as you lovingly held the dress, moved by his gesture…

For when was the last time someone had gifted you something to your liking, without having to beg for it? Without having to justify why you wanted it?

…

…

Had it really been that long?

Just what else was missing in your relationship with Naoya…?

Or perhaps, not wanting to face?

…

Your feelings, to begin with.

Because as attentive and caring Satoru and Suguru had been, neither were courageous enough to acknowledge the situation that put you in their reach in the first place, opting to instead reap the benefits, but ignore the rest.

It wasn’t malicious, not at all. It’s been stated by now that they truly cared for you, always checking in on you whenever possible.

It’s just that… they didn’t feel comfortable doing so yet, believing they were far from appropriate, or close enough, to do so.

Judging by those characteristics, the only one worthy enough, and the one that would end up confronting you for that matter, was Nanami, who wanted to see you as soon as he found out the horrible situation Naoya had forced you to but struggled to do so thanks to his strenuous new job.

But once he was free, the first thing he did was call you, eventually meeting in Shoko’s apartment (she was gone for the day, for privacy matters, how convenient) and thus, everything else unfolded.

“Why are you even dating Naoya if he’s hurting you so much?”

“I—I don’t think that’s for you to discuss.” You objected, going through a roller coaster of emotions, a combination of unwillingness to speak of the matter, and fear of admitting the truth.

To talk about something like this was never an easy matter, more so when the situation was already deep in hot water…

Yet, his assertive nature didn’t come as a surprise to you anymore, nor permitted you to avoid it.

Nanami had always been this way, the one willing to speak about difficult things, rip the bandage, careless if you were prepared for it or not.

And let everything that is meant to happen, happen.

“My relationship is something only I should speak about! And when I feel ready for it…”

“Not when I see how much it’s hurting you.” He rebutted. “When was the last time you were genuinely happy at his side? Or where you didn’t have to sacrifice your personal life just to keep him happy?”

It’s obvious what he’s referring to—Nanami is another one of your friends you’ve lost contact with due to Naoya’s… jealousy. But different from Satoru and Suguru, he cared too much to just let you go, consistently reaching out to you whenever possible—even when you never answered.

“You don’t know what we agreed on—”

“I don’t think that losing your friends was part of that.”

“You don’t know him, you don’t know Naoya at all!’

“And you do?” Nanami counters, breath hitching at your throat, upset by his abruptness. “You once said Naoya was crude, but he’d never do anything to willingly hurt you—and yet, here you are, in an open relationship you clearly didn’t want.”

“Kento—that’s—” your voice trembles, his words too close for comfort. “That’s not—"

“Then why? Why do you keep tolerating him?” Nanami frowns. “Do you hate yourself that much?”

“What? No!” You shake your head, aghast by his accusation. “That’s not it, at all!”

“Then what is it, Y/N? What could possibly entail sticking around with a man that has done nothing but hurt you?”

“Stop it…”

“Seeing other women while still being with you? Is that your idea of a good relationship?”

“Kento, please—”

“It’s never my intention to offend you, but I can’t help believing you’re growing desperate—seeking for something you can’t have with him! So why? Why do you try so hard to make it work, when he clearly doesn’t deserve—"

“Because I don’t want to be alone, ok?!” You eventually shriek, tears in your eyes as his words stung your heart too deeply, too much to handle in silence anymore. “It’s just as simple as that!”

Nanami’s eyes widen, taken aback by your unexpected outburst and confession, yet, as surprised as he was, if not bothered, he was also very, greatly hurt by its meaning.

Your words unknowingly disregarding everyone else that had ever been there for you.

And such, he cannot believe it. He doesn’t—not when he’s been there all along.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” Nanami insists. “What is the truth? Is he forcing you to this??”

“No, Kento, he’s not!” you objected. “I truly want to be with him, because he’s the only one that has ever wanted to be with me.”

“You know very well that’s not true.”

“Seems like our perspectives vary greatly.” You frown. “I remember attempts of trying to get close to people, only to be pushed to the side when someone better came along. Person after person, they all just… ignored me; either because I was overshadowed by my family, or because I was too mundane to compete with others.

Until… Naoya came along. He was the only one that saw me for who I was. Even though it was mostly because I fit the mold he wanted.

But even then… I was happy to play along, because it meant that for the first time in my life, I meant someone to something.”

“That’s what you think? That you didn’t mean anything to no one else?”

“It’s not what I think—It’s what I know.” You sniffle, doing your best to hold back the tears pooling in your eyes from falling. “…Even now I know I’m only relevant because I’m Naoya’s girlfriend… but once that’s gone, I’m sure no one will look my way—"

“That’s not true.” He swiftly interjects.

“…And how would you know that? How would you know that this time, fate wouldn’t be cruel to me, like it has always been?!”

“Because there is someone that cares for you.”

“Let me guess, my parents.”

“No—I didn’t mean them.” Nanami frowns.

“Then who—” you breathe. “Who are you referring to??”

And suddenly, thanks to his softening eyes and growing silence…  something clicks in your mind and all makes sense.

His anger, his protectiveness, his insistence…

There was a reason behind them all, only now does it become clear to you.

“…Why didn’t you say anything?” you softly ask, heart sinking when looking back at the dismissive way you treated him, always standing by your side, and yet…

“Because you seemed happy with Naoya.” Nanami adds. “Perhaps I was at fault too, for not having spoken of my feelings before, but… after seeing the way you smiled with him, I supposed it was for the best if I instead, supported you as a friend.

But because I’m your friend, I can’t allow you to go on thinking no one has ever cared for you. That no one has loved you for who you are… or will never do.

And most importantly, remind you that this—this isn’t what happiness looks like.”

At his open declaration, you couldn’t stop the wave of overwhelming emotions from washing over you, a combination of shock, sadness, and perhaps… longing, wondering what would’ve happened if you knew of his feelings back then.

Would you have accepted them? Or would everything continue as it does now?

Well, one thing is for sure—Nanami would’ve never suggested something like this; the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind!

But it’s too late now. You’ve made your decision and now, you were suffering the consequences…

However, you didn’t have to be alone anymore—and Nanami would reassure you of such by the following words, the same one’s he wished to have told you back then… and possibly save you from all this pain.

“I love you, Y/N. I always did, and I’ll always do. Even if we never see each other again—you’ll always remain in my heart.”

Because he would rather die than to make decisions that hurt you.

Leading you to unwittingly discover what it was to feel loved, for the first time in your life.

A heartwarming sensation, with no strings attached, just… someone that wishes your well-being above everything else, alongside your happiness, and nothing more.

And such, something grows inside you, something that pushes you to be closer to him, far beyond this day—

Coincidentally, he’s also the first one you kiss.

After Nanami’s visit, your days would slowly become brighter, although the grey cloud of Naoya’s seeming infidelity still lingered in the background.

But even then, your mind didn’t dwell on him for long, difficult to do so thanks to Satoru’s, Suguru’s, and now, Nanami’s interventions, as well as Shoko’s advice of enjoying the best of your new status.

The men involved didn’t seem to mind… too much.

Sure, their jealousy would sometimes rise to the occasion (from one person in specific) but as long as you continued to be attentive with them, they were willing to “share”, believing it was only a matter of time before you left that jerk-of-a boyfriend of yours once and for all, settling for on them instead.

Long story short, everything seemed to go on peacefully with your new routine…

Until the sudden appearance of a man you never expected to see, less set his eyes on you, since the only time you’ve seen him was that one instance you became acquainted with him thanks to Naoya’s business, never to speak again, disrupted all you held true.

While you might’ve seen this moment as expendable, forgettable even, to him, it was the fated day he knew he must have you—a growing desire to make you his when the time was right.

Naoya’s stupidity opening that door.

Sukuna was the owner of a rival company, a fierce competitor that always made the Zen’in uneasy whenever mentioned, constantly keeping them on their toes—because with a man as belligerent as him, to let their guard down, if just for the slightest, meant the complete loss of all they’ve worked for.

It’s safe to say that Sukuna had garnered the reputation of being aggressively intimidating, thus it was only right to assume that his approach would be of the same nature.

“I—I can’t” is what little you manage to muster through the fear constricting your throat; you still remember the eeriness you felt when meeting him that one time, never believing it could worsen… until you had him just a few feet away.

“I wasn’t asking.” He responds, the tone in his voice not only highlights his sincerity, but also warns you there won’t be a second chance.

Urging you to do what’s best for you, less…

Perhaps out of fear of experiencing his anger, some kind of retribution, or because deep inside, past your worry and hesitation, you were genuinely intrigued to know what a man like him might’ve found interesting in you… you accept.

Because after all was said and done, he was far different to what you were normally accustomed to…

As well as to willing to bargain for.

You don’t know what it was—maybe it was your blinding intrigue, your desire to taste something way beyond your reach… or because you took Shoko’s words a bit too literally, even though with him, she insisted you to be careful…

You ended up following Sukuna into his apartment; And not only that, but you also let him show you what true desire meant, in more ways than one, sure to never forget.

“Su—Sukuna—!” you’d breathe, whatever little you could muster through the tightening of your chest and the fuzziness of your mind, harshly gripping his arms, as he pushes you over the edge and into your release for what seemed to be the nth time that night. “Sukuna, please—I need—I need a break—”

“No—you will take it!” he groans, holding your waist and keeping you in place as his cock deep into your core, each time harsher than the last one, bruising that spot that always made you see stars over and over again; unexpectedly, a place that Naoya was all too ignorant of, Sukuna being amongst the few, if not the only, to achieve such feat.

No wonder you were reacting the way you were, losing yourself in pleasure, because just as he teased…

“This is the first time you’ve ever been with a real man, isn’t it?” He laughs when feeling you quiver against his hold, feeble against the sensations he’s relentlessly giving you, finding your numbing reaction, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth agape, and toes curling… to be quite adorable.

Doing all in his power to get more of this reaction—hopefully, beyond this night too.

“They simply don’t make the cut! —But how could they? With a cunt as lewd as yours, one isn’t enough!”

Sukuna doesn’t find satisfaction in seeing you with other men, less when you’re still “taken”.

But ever the one to seek advantage, even in the most uneven of fields, Sukuna was quick to see the endless possibility this opportunity provided—more than ready to exploit them…

“Don’t—don’t say that!” you’d moan, with such an exciting cry, Sukuna just couldn’t help prolonging this night. “That’s not—that’s not tru—ah!”

And keep you all for himself.

“I don’t want you staying at that hideous apartment anymore.” Sukuna would mutter the moment you opened your eyes; having fallen asleep soon after the strenuous ordeal, and suffering from its aftermath as soon as conscious.

“It’s not… nasty.” You groan, slowly blinking as you look back at him, doing your best to push yourself up from the bed, only to fall back down when resulting too weak to do so. However, even when dealing with the sharp pains across your body alongside unbearable drowsiness, you’re capable enough to defend Shoko. “…It’s a nice place.”

He chuckles.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” Sukuna then reaches over to the nearby bedside table, sliding the first drawer open and taking out a pair of keys which he’d give over to you soon after.

You look at it perplexedly, confused as to their meaning… before growing shocked, slumber completely gone from your body when listening the following statement.

“From now on, you’re staying in my apartment.”

“Wh—what?” First that, and now, this? Sukuna meant no joke when it came to you. “No, I can’t accept this!”

“You sure love making me repeat myself, woman.” He scoffs. “It’s not a matter of whether you can or cannot—you will.”

It’s an amazing talent of Sukuna to always sound threatening even when dealing with the most ordinary of things, but either way, you’re not interested in testing how far his limits went, and thus, (not that you had any other option) you accept the keys while silently wondering what the future holds for you by making this decision…

“Uraume will help you move your things. I better see you here when I come back after work—less you wish to be punished again.” He smirks, fingers sliding along your skin before pulling you close to him once more, a whine escaping your lips as you realize what is to transpire next yet again.

Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

…

…

…

As well as what Naoya’s been up to, for the day Sukuna allowed you to, you decide to go back to your shared apartment to pick up a few things to take with… him, now that you’re essentially living together.

It was a very awkward arrangement, if you thought about it, one that Shoko was strictly opposed to, but… well, you would be lying if you didn’t admit you were having a good time (outside of the painful pleasures he pushed you through every night) for a plethora of luxurious reasons. Far nicer than what you were used to seeing with Naoya.

Which you could openly enjoy due to Sukuna’s absence, rarely getting to see him due to work commitments, Uraume representing him instead… not that it was any better, for they were just as awkward as awkward can get.

And yet, not as much as what happened when you walked through the door of your shared apartment with Naoya, welcomed by the one person you did not expect to see there, believing him to be completely enraptured in his new freedom, given the silence he always responded with whenever you texted or called him.

“Naoya?” You asked, although confused, you were more… shocked to see his distraught appearance, almost as if he hadn’t been able to sleep for the last few days—or at all.

“What are you doing here?” you add. “I thought… well, I thought you’d be… somewhere else.”

“I can say the same thing about you.” He frowns. “Is it true that you’re staying with that woman?”

“Her name is Shoko…” you murmur; even when away, Naoya remains…

Either way, given his attention on her, it seems like he doesn’t know about Sukuna, yet.

Or Gojo.

Or Geto.

Or Nanami.

Because if he did, it would’ve been the first thing he mentioned; his jealous nature never one to take as a jest.

Unless…

“But yes, I am staying with her.” You confirm. “What about… you? Where have you been staying?”

… and still, you can’t help but worry for him.

“Here.” He confesses, you blink.

“…Really?” Even when skepticism is evident in your voice, he doesn’t not say anything else. Instead…

“Yes. And… it’s time for you to come back home.”

“Why? What happened?” you fret, naturally fearing the worst…

Which you were right in assuming, just that… it wouldn’t be what you expected.

“You—you had enough fun.” Naoya unwittingly stammers, a scowl on his face, or was it sorrow? As he continued. “It’s time for you to remember you’re mine and come back home.”

“Enough… fun?” You slowly repeat, invertedly hurt by his words, as if he weren’t the one that set up this situation in the first place, yet, still overwhelmingly confused as to what he meant.

Suspicion that perhaps he did know about your flings after all begins to settle in your mind, but it isn’t until his following words that it finally takes roots.

“Don’t hide it, Y/N—I know you’ve seen others. And quite frequently too!”

“You’re… you’re doing the same thing.” You immediately respond, scurrying to defend yourself. “And you don’t see me complaining…”

Even if you wanted so much to do so.

“No, of course not—too busy with them, aren’t you??”

“Excuse me? You’re—You’re one to talk! You never answered any of my texts, or calls!” you gasp. “Do you even know how… how…”

Hurt I was?

Guessing by his absence, you assume not.

… Oh, how you wished Naoya kept silent. Kept his words to himself and went on acting as he always did, because maybe, you wouldn’t have felt this burning anger stirring inside you, created by the reassurance by those around you, the reminder that you were still deserving of being cared for, appreciated.

Far more than what Naoya has ever done for you in the past few years.

That much you see now.

“… Let me get this straight, Naoya… you want me to come back… because you don’t want me to see others, even though you did the same thing??” you say, and by the gloomy look in Naoya’s eyes, you could tell you guessed right, stinging a nerve while in the process.

Yet not a sentiment that insulted him, but rather… reminded him of the shocking truth he’s keeping away from you.

Hoping it stays that way, unless you place the pieces together yourself.

“Do not talk to me like that.” He warns, you frown.

“I’m just stating the truth—you went to see someone as soon as you left that day, didn’t you?”

“That’s not—why does it even matter at this point? You did the same afterwards!”

“Again with that—You were the one that suggested it in the first place!” you gasp. “Why does it bother you so much?? Didn’t you…. Weren’t you encouraging me to it?!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I expected you to actually—”

Realizing the imprudence of his words, he suddenly goes silent.

“Expected to actually… what?” you frown.

Naoya doesn’t answer, all he does is scoff before looking away.

A few more seconds of silence, something clicks in your mind.

Anger finally taking a hold of your emotions.

Because just how foolish could you have been?

“Please, come back.” Is what Naoya eventually says. “I don’t want an open relationship anymore—let’s just forget about this and… move on.”

“And why would I do that?” you scowl. “Don’t you have other dates to go to?”

…

Silence yet again.

“Naoya?”

“I don’t. I… never did.”

The truth jolts you far more than you imagined, for it completely contradicts all that you once believed to be true, replacing the pain you’d been feeling since that day, the tears, the anger, and all your actions… with nothing.

As if everything you suffered… was void of any true meaning.

But that was only one point of view, you had yet to see Naoya’s. The truth as to why he hadn’t gotten any dates.

Or at least… successful ones.

Naoya did go out with women that caught his interest, having his go-to procedure ready to go when it came to impressing them, such as taken them to an expensive restaurant, gifting them luxurious jewelry, or simply showing off the privilege his family name provided— things he was sure would get him in their pants.

But when he thought it was only a matter of seconds before he got lucky, they would coldly ignore him, turn around, and… disappear.

It was difficult for him to understand why that happened, considering all that he “offered” …

What he failed to realize, though, is that one simple yet big problem stood between him and his ultimate goal: a personality many weren’t willing to tolerate, especially with the intensity he seemed to go on about, no matter the amount of riches he represented.

And soon, it wouldn’t take long before rumors of his personality began to spread into the circles he was involved in, not like it wasn’t happening already beforehand, Naoya was already well-known as a bratty heir with an equally explosive temperament—he just became more… popular.

Rumors he never had issues with, unbothered by them, because you… well, you seemed to not care for them. Willingly tolerating him instead, perhaps far more than he was deserving of, and keeping by his side, no matter what.

Giving him a false sense of confidence.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t come to realize this until seeing you with someone else—whispers and sightings of your dates, far more successful than any of his attempts, and without even trying, was enough to ignite a fire under his ass and come rushing to you.

Falsely believing it was just a matter of calling it off for everything to return as it was—you by his side, and his blinding jealousy effectively gone. Because only he deserved to have you.

Failing to realize the damage he’s already struck onto this relationship,

Yet, he still came back, shamelessly expecting he’d be received with the forgiveness, compassion and care you unconditionally provided, no matter the gravity of his mistakes…

But what seemed noble, prophetic even, for him—

Was only insulting to you, and when the nature of his actions reveals itself to you, your anger transforms intofury.

Because a man like Naoya shouldn’t have the freedom to openly discard you, and then want you back when things aren’t going his way—without facing consequences.

You were not there to be a steppingstone of sorts, be there through every single step of the road, sacrifice your life… only to be replaced just because he wants.

It was painful, it was unjust…

And it was unpunished.

For him to make it up for you, he’ll have to face the repercussions of his acts, experience just how much you suffered…

Only then, would you consider going back to him.

“I’m sorry, but I have things to do.”

“What?” Naoya’s eyes widen. “What do you mean you have things to do, Y/N? What could you…—you’re going to see someone.”

“And what if I am?” you frown. “I’m not doing anything I’m not allowed to do.”

“I don’t want this anymore!” He gasps. “I don’t want you to see anyone else, just me!”

“…Then you’ll just have to wait until I’m done. Until I’m sure we belong together, you know? You said so yourself, I just need to get it out of my system before I make a decision—” At being served a spoonful of his own medicine, the color in Naoya’s face disappears. “Only then, will I’ll come back.”

If you ever do.

“Y/N—Wait!”

Because after what you have planned for the following weeks, Naoya would only be lucky if you even do as little as think of him.

Shoko is the one that let everyone know of your new "single" life. Except Sukuna, that man has ears everywhere, and when he saw it as his moment, he rose to the occasion. Nice.

Not gonna lie, this idea has been on my mind for a while now, like, as soon as Y/N is single people begin to hound her. Everyoneeeeeeeee Naoya really does not realize the stupidity he committed until it's too late. :)

And there you have it, my take on an open relationship with him! I once read that open relationships don't work, unless you're talking about celebrities, and I'm honestly inclined to accept that...

But yeah, him doing this is like the worst thing Naoya could think of; there's just so many things that could go wrong—safe to say, in another universe 1) Naoya would never suggest it. 2) Y/N would never accept it lol.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask! I hope it was to your liking :> ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Take care, and hope to see you soon!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night. 

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired. 

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks. 

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life. 

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter. 

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.” 

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand. 

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly. 

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby. 

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name. 

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. 

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own. 

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours. 

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees. 

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.” 

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.” 

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you. 

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley fluff

[elliespillowprincess]

being ellie’s housewife. omg.

a/n: smut, breeding kink… littleee blood.

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

you were just finishing up the chicken tacos you made for your wife, ellie, while you wait patiently for her to get home; wearing nothing but a small cami and a pair of short shorts. she was off doing patrols for the past week and you grew more and more needy for her as the week progressed, unable to satisfy yourself with just your hands. suddenly, you hear her key insert into the door as you plate both of your plates. “baby? i’m home! where’s my girl?” you hear the familiar voice say. you run up to her, seeing how sweaty and dirty she had gotten being away for so long, and for some reason: it turns you on, wetness pooling in your cotton panties. “ellie!!! i’ve missed you so much!!” you say, wrapping your hands around her neck. ellie immediately noticed what you were wearing, she herself had grown desperate for you this week, only having the pictures in her wallet of you to look at.

“i missed you more sweet thing, what’s that smell?” she looks up, trying to find the source of the savory smell. you blushed at her sweet words as you explain you had made them dinner. she looks around the house and notices how beautifully spotless it is. “look at you mama, having food and a clean house all ready for me.” she says, grabbing the small of your waist and pulling you in for a sultry kiss. sweat, dirt, and her cologne fills your nose as you grab her auburn hair and kiss her deeper. “did you miss me baby?” she says, pulling away and laughing. “yes els.. you don’t know how much. i’ve been so bored here all week missing you… needing you.” your final words trail off, making ellie raise her eyebrows.

“go upstairs and lay down on the bed.” her words surprised you, not expecting her to be so demanding so fast. “but els.. the food!” you pout, turning back to see the steam from your plates become thinner. she gives you a look, a look that you just know you want to listen to, as you turn on your heels running upstairs. she watches you and goes to store the food in the microwave until you two are done.

you hear the downstairs shower running for about 15 minutes, growing more impatient by the second. “els!!! where are you?” you shout from upstairs. suddenly, the water turns off. about 5 minutes goes by and you see your wife walk in, wearing a pair of clean boxers and her sports bra. you practically drool. “couldn’t get my pretty girl all dirty right?” she says, walking over to the bed. you attentively sit up, watching her every move. she crawls onto the bed, and on top of you. “els…?” you say, looking up at her with innocent eyes. her eyes had grown darker, needier. “let me take care of you baby.”, she says, immediately sucking on the soft part of her skin. the sudden contact makes you moan loudly, holding her head in place.

“my sexy fuckin’ wife, cleaning my house and having hot food ready for me.” she says between kisses. her bent knee separates your legs, making you gasp at the sudden contact against your beating cunt. ellie notices how your wetness had pooled out through your underwear and into your shorts, smirking against your skin. her kisses trail down your collar bone, until she meets your thin cami top. “wearing these tiny little tops, looking so fucking beautiful.” suddenly, she rips the entire top in half in one fell swoop. “els!! this was one of my favorite tops!!” you say, pouting at her. “don’t worry baby, i’ll buy you as many more as you want- fuck i’ll buy you a hundred more- whatever you want.” her lips latch onto your left breast, suckling as her hand plays with your right bud. “fuck!!.. fuck, els please.. more..” she laughs softly, lifting her head up to look you in the eyes. “alright sweet thing.”

“aghhhhhh!!! ellie s’too much!!!” your head is shoved into the pink comforter of your bed as ellie’s strap enters and exits you at an animalistic pace. her grip on your hips is so strong, you’re sure it’ll leave marks. “my sexy wife, fuck.. look at you.. gonna.. gonna put my babies in you… fill you up.” nothing but the sound of your wet cunt, the bed creaking , and moans fill the room. “yeah baby?… what do u-fuckkkkk.. what do u think? you’d be so pretty.. all round and plump carrying my-nghh… kids..” you feel so full of her and all you can hear, smell, feel, think: is her. the knot in your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter and you feel like you’re gonna burst. “yes..-fuck!! yes els please!!!” her sweat drips off her forehead and down on your back. “look at that pretty pussy taking all of me.. so fuckin’ wet. she’s swallowing me.” her pace speeds up, her nails drawing small droplets of blood from your blush hips. her hand reaches around and begins drawing fast circles around your puffy clit. “els!!! m’gonna cum!! fuck-“ her pace speeds up as she her own orgasm from the back of the strap rubbing on her clit furiously tips her to the edge. “fuck- baby come with- with me.. gonna fill you up baby… cmon mama give it to me-“ her words, her pace, everything tips you over the edge as the moment you’ve been waiting for all week happens. your orgasm rips through you making you see stars and screams her name as ellie’s follows right after. you both fall over exhausted.

“got another one in you baby?”

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #i need to be her housewife omg #ellie x you

[sunlightmurdock]

jake has been trying to bed from the hard deck for months now and how are you supposed to resist that man for so long. but being the absolute asshole that he is your apprehensive that he’s going to be rough or uncaring in bed and he picks up on it right away and shows you just how much of a texas gentleman he can be. 😙

“Did your date stand you up?”

You close your eyes and curl your fingers around the stem of your glass, trying your best not to do your biggest, most irritated sigh.

When you open them again, he’s unfortunately still there. Toothpick between his lips, he grins at you.

“Can’t imagine why, darlin’ — you’re such a ray of sunshine, after all.” He teases.

Jake has been trying to fuck you for months. It’s been like this the whole time. You denying his advances, the two of you mocking each other in response. Until tonight when, unfortunately, your date did stand you up. And he’s there. And he already has a tab running behind the bar, so you let him buy you a drink. Just one drink.

Apparently when you’re feeling this low, that’s all it takes. You both know exactly what it means when you ask him to walk you home. But, he’s handsome and you’ve seen his muscles on more than one occasion — you can put up with a quick, rough fuck. It’ll get your mind off of tonight.

So, when you’ve got him in your bedroom and pulling your shirt over your head, you’ve got a good idea of what to expect.

“Can you stop looking at me like I’m gonna tell you to shut up and bend over? — It’s putting me off my game.” Jake mumbles unhappily, fingers trailing your bare waist with one hand as his other scoops your hair away from his neck so that he can lean forwards and kiss your throat.

“C’mon, Hangman, you don’t need to pretend you’re a gentleman. I know you, remember.” You scoff, reaching down to unbutton his shirt, leaning your head back so that he can continue to kiss your neck. He’s good at that. But, a talented mouth isn’t enough to impress you yet.

Jake pulls back and looks at you, brows knitting together as he gives a small shake of his head. He scoffs. “Pretend? — Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know a gentleman if he was standing right in front of you.”

Wow, his mouth really is talented. Closing your eyes, you lean your head all of the way back and sigh happily as he sucks a deep kiss into the curve of your shoulder. But, the bickering doesn’t stop there.

It still hasn’t stopped when he’s got you completely out of your clothes and his broad shoulders keeping your thighs apart, his green eyes staring up at you.

“So, what makes a guy a gentleman, huh? — If you’re such an expert?” Jake questions as two of his fingers trail an intricate path through your folds, being careful to graze your clit every now and again but not enough to be satisfying. He’s the only guy in the world who would dare to ask that while he’s nestled between your legs.

“Putting his lady first. Not being an arrogant asshole. Complicated stuff, Hangman — wouldn’t expect you to get it.” You shrug, closing your eyes as he leans forwards and presses his open mouth eagerly to your soaked core.

Hangman, as it turns out, is full of surprises. After he has made you cum twice on his tongue, which it turns out is just as talented between your legs as it was against your neck, he’s cocky enough to sit back on his knees, wrap a hand around his cock and tell you to ask for it nicely.

Then, you’re annoyingly delighted to learn that his tongue is most definitely not the most talented body part that he’s got. Whimpering into his neck, grabbing desperately at his thick shoulders and squeezing your legs around his hips, your mind blanks on what it was that ever made you dislike him in the first place.

Even more annoyingly, he peppers your shoulders, your forehead, your jaw with kisses as the two of you come down from your highs. He grabs a damp cloth and cleans the mess from your body gently and hands you a glass of water that he had grabbed from the kitchen.

“So, how about you let me show you how a real man takes a lady on a date?” He smiles at you, pulling his boxers up around his hips as you sit, still trembling in your bed.

#jake seresin #thots night (: #jake hangman seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin smut #Jake Seresin x you

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊boba time ┊Mama’s Harvest ꒱

『♡』 pregnancy

Your fingers fiddle with the little flower bud in your hands and you use the back of your hand to wipe sweat from your forehead. The sun is beginning to beat down on you, drenching your skin in rays.

“Almost done?” Katsuki startles you, leaning over from behind where you kneel.

You bounce, dropping the flower and turning around to give him a glare.

“Yeah, jus’ gotta finish pollinating the squash or it’ll produce less..” You remind, returning to the task at hand.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes and begins making his way through the garden with a basket in hand. Leaves rustle and the tell-tale sound of stuff flopping to the ground let’s you know he’s harvesting.

“Babe..” He calls and you glance over in his direction.

“Hmmm?” You wonder, nearly finished with your chores.

“How many peppers did you plant?” Katsuki inquires and you freeze.

“Uhhh..” Your mind races for an answer and you begin counting on your fingers. Whispering to yourself and naming off varieties.

“We’re gonna drown in peppers, holy shit.” He jokes, rounding one of the rows with a massive basket filled with different pepper varieties.

Katsuki rushes you inside, complaining that you shouldn’t be in the heat for too long and you pout. Still, you do as told and go inside to make lunch and relax.

There’s a lot of pros to your husband being a pro hero. One, you don’t need to work. You can if you want to but you don’t. Katsuki gives you all the money you want and more, no questions asked.

He doesn’t push unrealistic expectations on you, either. You had a career for years of your relationship and for the first two years of being married.

But when Katsuki came behind you with red cheeks and shy eyes, saying he wanted s little one, it was time for a change. Pregnancy is hard on the body and both of you thought it would be best to have you home for at least the first three years of the little melons life.

You aren’t far along, either. But your husband is persistent.

You watch from the kitchen window as he grabs another basket and scissors, only to come back with an abundance of herbs and fruits. Nothing in life rivals these moments.

You turn, grabbing s large knife and a cutting board to begin slicing a bunch of green onion. The knife hits the bamboo with a satisfying “knock knock knock” and you sigh in content.

Nausea bubbles in your throat and you push it down, thinking about all good things.

The door creaks open and Katsuki places the woven baskets on the table. You hear footsteps before his large hands are on your lower tummy. His head comes to rest on top of yours, where the places a kiss and sighs.

“So, when should we tell ma?” He ponders.

The cutting stops and you set down the metal utensil, turning to face him. Your arms wrap around his shoulders where they lay purchase, tugging your body closer to his own.

“Mmm.. not sure m’ love. Whadd’you think?” You mirror his mindset, unsure of what the best option would be.

“Well you’re the one growing the baby, so I thought you’d wanna do it a certain way- I dunno people get sentimental about this shit.” Katsuki’s damp lips come to rest on your forehead for a moment.

“Well I can’t hide it much longer- fuck it why don we just invite them over for dinner to get some of these peppers? We can tell em then!” You propose, shooting a look at all the excess fruit and vegetables.

“Yeah, we can do that, I’ll tell ‘em. What time?”

Katsuki’s breaking away, using his hip to bump you over so he can take over cooking. You smack his shoulder and he flinches. It stings even when he’s got a dark grey shirt on, no match for your mood.

You scowl and grab another cutting board and a bell pepper. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“Baby I’m pregnant not dying. I’m cutting the damn bell pepper. And mm eight, we’ll do that.”

Before long, all the colorful foods are cut and turned into a large dinner. Sitting in front of you is chicken legs smothered in seasonings and drizzled in gravy over mashed potatoes. Your stomach grumbles and you nearly sigh in relief when his parents walk in.

The conversation continues as normal until you’re met with a wave of nausea. Your face scrunches and despite attempting to hide it- his mother notices. His father isn’t paying any mind, looking at the massive side salad you’ve prepared.

Her eyes narrow and her mouth opens.

“So, uh-“ Katsuki begins, cherry eyes flicking over to meet your own.

“I’m pregnant.” You reveal and his mother slaps the shit out of katsuki on instinct.

It isn’t malicious, she’s practically bouncing. A wide grin wipes across her face and she looks toward her husband with a giggle.

“Fucking FINALLY!” She yells and katsuki looks at her incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that Katsuki! I’ve been wanting grand babies for years now!” His mother scolds, looking at you with a bright smile.

Katsuki takes a breath, nice and slow to steady himself, while your mother prods with questions. You’re eating, talking about the ins and outs of pregnancy while his father pitches in warmly.

He grumbles in the corner, telling his mom to shut up, and makes faces at some of the things he didn’t expect.

“Yunno, with this asshole, I really craved sweets. But the hardest part of being pregnant with him was probably the hemorrhoids and kicking. God- the kicking was horrible.” His mother explains, stuffing a last bite of mashed potato in her mouth.

You giggle at your husbands angry and confused face from the side. He seems almost offended that pregnancy could be so horrible.

“Why was the kicking so bad?” He pokes, much more gentle than usual.

“Ahh.. it feels like butterflies at first, yunno? But you moved a lot-“ she grabs a sip of water, tilting her head towards him, and places the glass back down.

“-that’s fine and all at first. But you got stronger and it hurt, at one point you had your foot pressed against my ribs for two hours! You’d just kick and it was a constant mild uncomfortable feeling..”

The blonde to your right furrows his brows and takes a sip of his own water. The metal fork he was once using placed on the side of his dish.

“Well, that… makes sense.” Katsuki thinks out loud and looks over towards you.

The dinner ends with kisses and hugs. His mother says she’s coming over in a few days with a couple pregnancy life savers and demands to have copies of the ultrasounds.

Katsuki takes his time that night while you bathe. He massages your shoulders and back, up your ankles and thighs and kisses your tummy. You catch him whispering for the little melon to be sweet to you and nearly coo at the man.

The next day, he brings in a large notebook and grabs a pen. “Baby Food” is messily written at the top and you smile.

A kiss is placed to the top of his head, then a kiss to your lower stomach, like it’s becoming routine.

There’s something fond, simple, and beautiful about the way he falls into fatherhood without question.

#pregnancy #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #strawberry cake #boba time #boba series: garden