#even though its short this has been in the works for a couple weeks so i hope you all like it :3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minisugakoobies · 2 months

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Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown.

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate.

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop.

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far.

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo.

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything.

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say.

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question.

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited?

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone.

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again.

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace.

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?”

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!”

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over.

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going?

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous.

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks.

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity.

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away.

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo.

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic.

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck.

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself.

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now.

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors.

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say.

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.”

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache.

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly.

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock?

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg.

“Oh no, that was just for you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?”

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence.

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf.

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?”

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you.

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all.

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!”

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.”

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip.

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs.

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin.

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.”

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake.

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind.

“Just think about it.”

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing.

And oh, god, do you think about it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name.

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall).

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs.

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.”

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.”

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority.

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape.

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear.

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod.

“And what did you decide?”

“I - I don’t know.”

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?”

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage.

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir.

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.”

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list.

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs.

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.”

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.”

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely.

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?”

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin.

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?”

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes.

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger.

Fine, then. You’re a fool.

“One.”

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable.

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.”

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.”

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice.

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.”

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?”

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking.

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.”

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.”

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath.

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.”

“No shit. Everyone knows that.”

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again.

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right.

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?”

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.”

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it.

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move.

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply.

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.”

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open.

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him.

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go.

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need.

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated.

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants.

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.”

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience.

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.”

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body.

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it.

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him.

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.”

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue.

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.”

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?”

“I will.”

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing.

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.”

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens.

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little.

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps.

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands.

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.”

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.”

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you.

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life.

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze.

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso.

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves.

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between.

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!”

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.”

And just like that, you feel that spark again.

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash.

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation.

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer.

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his.

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.”

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls.

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!”

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.”

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you.

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.”

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.”

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.”

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?”

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl.

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it.

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip.

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises.

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire.

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need.

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs.

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!”

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him.

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.”

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush.

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace.

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content.

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and -

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.”

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.”

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look.

“What?”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?”

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.”

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss.

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

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dont-touch-the-phlebotinum · 11 months

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The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

#wayne is eddie's dad i don't make the rules #eddie munson #wayne munson #munson family feels #stranger things fic #stranger things #my writing

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cooki3face · 3 months

Text

what you need to hear right now: channeled from spirit

message: I love this type of art, I have tons of it on my Pinterest but anyway that's sort of beside the point, I feel called to do a message but I feel very low on energy within as of late. I want to try and keep this one short, sweet, and clear. As you know, especially if you're a light worker or intuitive, shifts within the collective, within energy however it comes are always felt first by us. If there is a symptom of change, I'm feeling it 10x over so that I can prepare to relay that information to the collective because I would honestly consider myself to be a vessel. As I cope with my life and my own human experience I am also in the process of collecting important information so that I can guide the collective effectively and let me tell you, I've been through some SHIT with the opening force of 2024. Anyways, enjoy the reading and I pray that you find what you're looking for and what you need with me in my space today.

"we've been watching you juggle both the physical and the spiritual within your hands for the past couple weeks, you may feel as though your worlds are colliding your the sky and the ocean has folded over with you in the center. There comes a time in one's life when the elements that make up their world must come into alignment and fuse with one another. You were told to learn what it meant to be a balanced individual, and so as you completed and closed off karmic lessons and overcame blockages you became closer and closer to equilibrium and these moments now are crucial as what you had needed all long is on its way to be delivered to you. You've been learning what it means to manage your time, manage your energy, and spread yourself where needed to obtain the results you desire. You have one foot in the spiritual realm and one foot in the physical world. Your development as of now is so incredibly important and we're supporting you in your journey forward.

Things may appear to be slow, backed up, or difficult at this time but movement is coming in quickly and to be expected soon. You've planted your seeds to receive and as you deserve, you shall. within the next two weeks for some of you and even a couple of days for a select few of you, things will begin to move forward or pick up momentum. Set your intentions straight and make sure that they are unwavering. there is success on the horizon, whatever is difficult or isn't working out for you that will change. You've grown so much, and your only job at this time is to nurture yourself and your manifestations, show yourself grace, ask for healing, ask for closure, and ask for the necessary tools to care for yourself as one should. And become clear and aligned with whatever you are manifesting, and put yourself in the position to receive by doing the work on your end and meeting us in the middle with your will and your gratitude. If there's a will there's a way even if you don't have everything in the world to offer in exchange. Come to terms with your power and the part you play in your world.

A select few of you are royalty within the spiritual realm you are kin of spirits who are highly respected and praised in the beyond and that is why the pile you chose depicts the divinity of a matriarch holding her child. Look for gold jewelry and gold trinkets and items if you choose to go out shopping or collecting. You feel called to build something or may have an idea, honor your ideas, and put actions behind what you desire to reap. Those of you who know that you are divinely protected are being heavily watched over and shielded, there could potentially be gossip by those of whom you've left behind or parted from but their tongues will be stilled when they speak of you they summon your spiritual court ( your ancestors, your spirit guides, guardian angels and all deities who call out to you and respect you.) their karma is sharp. Pay no mind to any negative energy sent to you by others. They talk only because they want to be paid great attention to but the audience lies in front of you and the universe's love and support is more than evident on your side.

You are about to succeed heavily, many things will be given to you, prosperity and congratulations are in order, the people will see. you are in a position to receive well in your finances, so well you will be able to give to others or keep your abundance in full cycle forward and back to you. We once told you that you would be compensated greatly for your hardship and the spiritual council has spoken and reached a solid verdict on your reward and the size and volume of the gifts you're about to receive. Do nothing but nurture thyself and expand from this point forward. be easy with secureness in your good fortune, do not let your fear or your anxiety eclipse you there is no purpose for any of it."

II.

"You asked to be free of the things that threaten to hold you hostage and one of the biggest of those things happens to be you. It's time for change and it's time for growth. As you step into the new year you have no choice but to be reset now after years and months and weeks of being broken. You need to be able to heal properly. It's time to come clean and be honest. There are many things within your life that have made lasting impressions on who you chose to be or what you chose to do for your survival even at the expense of others, even those you held dear to you. The process of living an honest life is not an easy one. It is easier to be deceptive, to use your pain as a weapon, or to do what you need to do to survive even if it means stepping on others in the process or not meeting the needs of those you've awoken to you. It is hard work to be in alignment, it is hard work to always take accountability, it is hard work to look at your shadow and truly acknowledge it, you know more than anyone."

interception: I'm getting the energy of the film "warrior" with tom hardy in where he plays a character named tommy who ends up having to fight his brother for a large reward in a wrestling championship. He was a marine in the military and has childhood trauma that shapes the way he presents himself to others and navigates in his interpersonal relationships and of course what his goals and purpose are in the film, I'm not going to spoil it for you but if this is your pile, I recommend you watch it. it's on Netflix. it also really does a good job of highlighting an aspect of ourselves that we carry in our spirits to marry ourselves to our trauma or particular factors of it to hide from troubling or conflicting emotions or circumstances. things that are "inherently" bad or negative in theory but can look "desirable" or "acceptable" to us because our motivation for accepting it happens to be a heavily skewed one.

" It's time you finally free yourself from your karma, from your vices, from your shadow, and from aspects of yourself or your life that threaten to keep you stuck or stagnant. You can't take with you all of these things into the new year, into the new world, into your new life. The devil is in the details and he has done nothing but hold onto your ankle this entire time. It is your responsibility to make the changes that you've been asking for or craving. You may fear loss or the reality of the damage you've caused, the opportunities you've put yourself in the position to lose. You will sit with yourself, you will look at yourself in the mirror or you will suffer and continue to do so under the hand of your own decisions. What you are owed in compensation for a hard life cannot be received if you cannot put yourself in the position to receive them. There's a need in life for personal given grace as well as accountability for the part we play in events and circumstances that take place in our lives, take time to self reflect, forgive yourself, show yourself grace and in turn find the courage to communicate with those you've wrong and/or begin your journey forwards.

In our lives, the consequence we bare the burden of however heavy the weight is never the full and eternal end there is always something after. You've proven yourself to be resilient, to be a force. Use your strengths and allow them to will you forward into the next chapter of your life. Someone significant in your past could've heavily admired you or seen in you things you could not see in yourself as they were able to sense higher beings in others however troubled their karma was. The love they had for you is the love you are about to receive from yourself. The things they saw in you that you could not see you are preparing to embody in full. Ace of pentacles upright for you here signifying abundance coming to you when you are able to open yourself up to receive it all. remain committed to your cause."

III.

"You're seeking out personal closure or looking for solutions to an issue that you don't have on end. Don't make the mistake of running from completion or leaving doors ajar because it is difficult to close them shut you know what you need to do. You need to make the proper investments for your life, you need to work for your improvement or to receive the life you have felt you were entitled to all along but the mistake you've made along the way all this time is attempting to take short cuts and be strategic, deceptive or ingenuine in your method to try and deceive. You are used to putting on a mask or trying on costumes to appeal what others desire from you so you can receive the result you prefer from them, their approval, their support, their validation. Your biggest enemy is the closet full of masks you've accumulated they work against you, they push people away, they scare people of value, and they mislead as you've asked them to. Your life and it's events however unfortunate or difficult have existed to serve you a purpose and put you on your righteous path forward in alignment with your highest self and the life they live but instead you've sharpened it and allowed it to be used as a weapon against others and against yourself.

put your strengths and your adaptability where it's needed and not into being a sheep in wolves clothing or traveling through the night in such a way in which you won't be seen. Abundance will come for you and doors will open up for you where you set your intention and where you are unwaveringly honest and true. Reflect on your choices, your habits, and your behaviors in order to decide what needs to be changed and what needs to be improved and do it honestly this time and set the intention to change it not make another mask of it and store it away for another time. It is not your place to control the way everyone looks at you and how you are perceived or if they are willing to give to you or not. You control or manipulate what does not belong to you from places of fear you store deep within you and it is time to heal and ready yourself to move forward and leave a karmic version of yourself behind. Pack up the things you need to bring with you and be rid of the rest. Do not be resistant to change you must move."

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #divine masculine #pick a card #tarot readers of tumblr #channeled messages #channeled message from spirit #what you need to hear right now #pac #pick a pile #tarot lessons

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dreaming-medium · 6 months

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Bad Day - Bang Chan Drabble

Summary: Reader has a terrible day; one of those days where everything goes wrong. Luckily, her boyfriend is there to wipe the stress away with some well deserved hugs.

Word Count: 2.2k

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Punch after punch after punch after punch lands on your soul today. Every single time you turned around, another horrible situation would present itself.

You’ve been sick for two and half weeks now. The sore throat would come and go, but you weren’t able to sleep without propping two pillows under your head. This morning when you woke up, your voice was completely gone.

The empty space next to you in bed certainly doesn’t help either. Chan has been gone for a work trip for two weeks now. He wasn’t due home for another two more.

Work has been its own animal to take care of. It was your first job after graduating, so you were at the bottom of the totem pole. Each higher up suddenly felt the need to burden you with any difficult projects they didn’t feel like taking care of themselves.

“I don’t think this is something I was trained on,” you tried to say to one of the more older workers. The huge stack of papers was so heavy in your hands. “These calculations would take me—“

“Just do it, Y/N,” he said before closing the door to the conference room you were standing alone in.

You had just watched that coworker’s boss tell him to do it. But nope, he dumped it on you.

On top of that, you were also tasked with training the new guy even though you’ve only been here for nine months.

And this guy made it his personal mission to make your job even harder. The way he would go from not knowing anything to being a complete know-it-all within two sentences made your blood boil.

But it’s fine. It’s totally fine, you can handle this.

Then, someone ate your lunch out of the fridge even though your name was clearly written on it. Your lunch break was so short that there was no way you could run out to get something else.

It was raining so hard as you jogged to your car through the parking lot. Every spot in the parking garage was taken this morning so you had to use the satellite lot ten minutes away.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you got into your car and slammed the door shut.

Fumbling with the keys, you shoved them into the ignition and started your car. The heat immediately kicked on and you sat there for an extra couple of minutes, warming your frozen fingers in front of the vents.

A book from one of your favorite authors came out today. You were going to pass the store on your way home, why not stop and buy a copy? It certainly would help with the day you were having.

The drive to the store was silent. You didn’t even turn the radio on. If you’re being honest, you didn’t think you could handle sound.

People were everywhere in the bookstore.

You walked in and looked around for the new book. There were signs and posters everywhere that announced the book. Where was it?

“If you’re looking for the new Kingdom book we sold out this morning.” A worker says to you softly.

A small part of you dies.

You politely nod to the worker and leave.

It’s ridiculous how you feel the tears building behind your eyes.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re overreacting. It’s totally fine. You’ll just buy a copy on your Kindle. You didn’t even need a physical copy, right?

Your fingers fumble with your keys and you drop onto the ground. They splash right into a puddle.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Swallowing painfully, you wince at your sore throat and gather your things to get back in the car.

You’ll go home and watch TV.

“It’s Friday,” you whisper to yourself in the car to try and calm down. “It’s treat day, why not stop for a coffee?”

Every Friday you would buy yourself a coffee. ‘Treat Day’ is what you dubbed it as. It slowly became a tradition with you and your friends.

Chan used to always reload your coffee rewards app with his own money without telling you.

A sad smile tugs at your face while you drive to the coffee shop. God, what you wouldn’t give to see him right now.

The tension in your shoulders is so bad you think your shoulders are level with your ears.

After getting your coffee, you drive all the way home to your apartment complex.

Right before you turn into the lot, a car decides to come out of nowhere and cuts you off. You cut the wheel and slam on the brakes to avoid them.

Your coffee launches out of the cup holder and spills all over your lap.

“Fuck!” You curse and try to focus on the road. “Fuck fuck!”

At least it was iced coffee and you’re not burned. Right? Silver lining?

You’re at your limit. Your sanity is teetering.

Parking in your designated spot, you trudge into the large building.

The weight of the day still sits so heavy on your shoulders. Now your lap was soaked with coffee.

A package sits underneath the complex’s mailboxes. It’s ruined and crushed. The ‘FRAGILE’ sticker is gnarled up.

“No,” you sigh and look closer at it.

Yep, it’s yours. The new dishwear set you ordered came in.

When you lift the package you hear all the pieces shift around. It’s just a box of broken ceramic at this point.

Tighter and tighter your throat gets.

Slowly, you trudge up to your floor. Because, of course, the elevator is broken. Of course it is. Why would the elevator work today?

Just as you get your keys out to open your door, your shitty neighbor comes outside.

“Oh god, Y/N, you look horrible.” He says loudly.

You turn and look at him with tears already brimming in your eyes.

No sign of compassion crosses his face, instead, he laughs. He laughs right in your fucking face.

“No wonder I haven’t seen Chan around. He finally came to his senses, eh?”

Your jaw drops open.

“God, pull yourself together.”

Your neighbor picks up his newspaper from the doormat and goes back into his unit without another word.

For a long moment, you just stand there. Your clothes and hair still soaking wet and clinging to your skin, work bag and purse slung over your shoulder, box of broken plates and bowls in your arms.

Inside your body, you felt yourself finally snap. You felt your anger and frustration hit it’s limit.

Your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of seething rage. Lips pulling in a sneer, you rip open your door and stomp inside, slamming it shut behind you.

Dropping everything you own at the door, including the box of glass, you let out a muffled scream.

The box bursts open and glass shards go everywhere. They skitter across the floor and cover the wood in a dangerous mine field.

A moment of silence passes.

You lose it.

You drop to your knees and cradle your face while angry, hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Wails leave your lips as the weight of the day finally takes it’s toll.

On any normal day, you would be able to handle these things individually, but all at once? You just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Y/N?!” A voice calls out from the other end of the hallway.

Your head snaps up and you see your boyfriend standing there with a look of horror on his face.

“Chan,” you croak out.

His eyes frantically look around at the scene in front of him. Your disgruntled state surrounded by broken glass.

He’s here? He’s back?

“Y/N, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

He tries to walk closer but then he realizes he’s also surrounded by broken glass.

“Chan.” Is all your able to say again before the sobs come out even harder. Your entire body wracks with them, chest sputtering as you try to breathe between cries.

His face twists up in anguish.

“S-Stay there! Don’t move, I’m gunna get a dust pan, okay? I’ll be right back, babygirl. Don’t move.”

He continues to say things over and over to you while running to get what he needs.

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay, right? You’re home and safe, Y/N.”

You bury your face in your hands again and continue to cry. His words reach you, but they do nothing to quell the emotions.

Before you could fall further into this headspace, two warm, strong arms wrap around you and pull you into an even warmer body.

“I’m right here, honey, I’m here. You’re okay.” Chan whispers into your hair. He pulls you onto his lap and holds you close.

His comforting scent envelops you everywhere.

Chan rocks back and forth while holding you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over into your hair. “You’re home now, I’m here, Channie’s here.”

Your face buried into his shoulder, hands gripping his shirt tightly

“What happened, baby?” He asks gently.

You cry harder.

“I’m so sick,” you cry into his shirt. “People keep taking advantage of me at work, I had to park ten minutes away in the rain. Someone ate my lunch. I dropped my keys in a puddle, the new book sold out, I spilled my coffee everywhere. Then fucking 304 across the hall tells me how horrible I look.”

You motion outwards at the glass all over the floor still. “And how do you like our new dishes?”

Even in the middle of a mental breakdown, you still crack a joke.

Saying it all makes you cry even harder. At this point, Chan’s shirt is soaked with your tears.

He continues to hold you as tight as he could. Not once does he tell you to stop crying, instead he carefully scoots and leans against the wall, cradling your body on his lap.

Chan rocks back and forth, pressing kisses into the crown of your hair as you cry your heart out.

His one hand rubs slow circles on your back while the other pets the back of your hair.

Low hums come from his throat. Chan lays his cheek on top of your head and keeps you close to his chest.

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he coos. “You’re home now. You’re with me now.”

“Thank god you’re home,” you hiccup and clutch his shirt closer to you.

“My spidey-senses were tingling,” he jokes in a hushed tone.

You manage to chuckle through your tears.

“My babygirl needed me.”

You’ve always been so happy go lucky, the glass was always half full with you. You always looked on the bright side of everything. If anything bad happened, it always just rolled off your back.

It was one of the main reasons he fell for you.

Chan has never seen you as bad as you were on your knees in the entryway, it shook him to his core.

Another long kiss is pressed to your head.

Slowly, your sobs calm down. Your throat still hoarse and sore from before has only gotten marginally worse.

Sniffling, you sit up away from Chan.

“‘M sorry I got your shirt all gross.”

Chan laughs in spite of everything. Both of his strong hands cup your cheeks for you to look him in the eye.

His chin dips down to your level so he can stare right at you. Those gorgeous brown eyes sparkle at you.

“I’m not upset about my shirt, Y/N,” he says gently. “I’m only worried about my sunshine. It’s not every day you cry, baby.”

“Everything just happened at once.” Chan’s thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I tried to keep it together but our neighbor verbally berating me was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Chan tuts and brushes your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s throw eggs at his door,” he jokes.

He pulls a laugh from you.

“There’s my favorite smile.” He coos. It makes your smile even brighter. You sniffle again, and look down sheepishly.

Chan lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “Hey baby,” he grabs your attention. “How about this: you go shower off the day, I’m going to clean all this up and order our favorite takeout for dinner. I even stopped on my way home and got two pints of ice cream before.”

“Mint chocolate chip?” You ask softly.

“Of course I got your nasty toothpaste ice cream.” He pinches your cheek teasingly.

You giggle and lean away from his hand.

“Come on, babygirl.”

Before he does anything else, Chan leans forward and presses a long, warm kiss to your forehead.

Both of your eyes close at the comforting feeling it brings. After he kisses your forehead, Chan leans down and kisses both of your cheeks.

His warm lips then press to your nose and then finally to your lips.

It’s a long, sensual, loving kiss. Both of your mouths slipping over one another in a dance.

You sigh happily into the kiss. Chan’s mouth smiles against your own. It’s contagious, you can’t help but mirror the grin with our own.

In the end, you both look like smiling fools wrapped up in one another’s presence.

Chan scoops you up carefully and stands up from the floor, making sure to avoid any stray shards of glass.

“I’m going to take good care of you, my honey.” He coos and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Your bad day ends here.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #soft bang chan

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murdrdocs · 1 year

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RIDING DAVE LIZEWSKI'S THIGH!!!!!! 😧

okay so listen listen ; SMUT 16+

riding dave's thigh can go a couple of ways me thinks.

the first, it's to put on a show for him. in these moments, you're perched on his lap, trying to kiss, grind, and massage away his stress and the tension in his body. he's a fucking superhero without any powers, of course he's always stressed and sore and bruised. and there's not much you can do on your front. you know trying to convince him to give it up is fruitless, and you can't go out there and fight off crime. so you play the role of the doting girlfriend; there in the middle of the night to patch up injuries and kiss it better. tonight, luckily, you're doing more of the latter than the former. he's come in stressed, nothing but a few scrapes and bruises decorating his pretty face, but he's already changed out of the kick-ass suit and now he's just dave. your sweet dave who is holding onto your hips for dear life as you kiss him until he's dizzy and his glasses are skewed.

"tell me about your day," you're telling him, rubbing your lips together which makes dave aware of the sheer amount of lip gloss that he has on his lips now.

he tries to do as he's asked, but you've started to straddle one of his thighs and he watches you lower yourself. he starts from when he'd first talked to you this morning, and you're nodding your head, little "uh-huh"s leaving your lips in affirmation. but those noises of affirmation go from letting him know that you're listening, to letting him know how much pleasure you're feeling.

you're pushing your hips back and forth, letting the friction from your flimsy shorts and dave's jeans please you. your eyes screw shut, your head lolls back, but you're still saying, "uh-huh" and "yes". the noises are driving him crazy, a prominent pitch forming at his crotch. your hands are on his shoulders, pushing into the muscles, relieving them of their tension little by little. but its like with every push, dave's muscles relax, then tense tenfold. he can't relax when his pretty girlfriend is riding his thigh, listening to him rant about his suddenly-unimportant day while she gets off in front of him, evidently putting on a show.

whenever you push your shorts to the side, letting dave know that you weren't wearing any underwear, he flips you over and pushes his fingers inside instead, giving up on the whole run down on his day.

the second, is to deprive him of what he wants. similarly to the first, you're putting on a show. but you both knew that the ending would be slightly different. dave's been pissing you off; snarky remarks, avoiding you, treating you like you weren't that important. which, sure, you understood that he has other important things to do. but you're not asking to be treated like the fucking queen of england. you just want some basic respect that he was more than capable of giving you last week.

so when he comes into your bedroom late at night, beaten and bruised, on the verge of tears, you try to ignore the way your heart strings tug. "baby, i'm sorry, please, i just need your help."

you're upset, but you're not a sociopath. so you take him to your bathroom and clean him up, but when his hands try to reach for your skin, you're flinching away, or swatting his hand off. but if dave lizewski is anything, he's persistent. so he keeps doing it until you end up in his lap.

but you're not looking at him. you're looking at the cut on his forehead, at the cut at the corner of his lip, at the bruise that's forming on his eye and at his jaw.

"look at me. please," he's trying, his thumbs rubbing what he thinks is soothing circles at the exposed skin of your thighs. you're not caving though. even whenever he says, "let me kiss it better? let me fuck it better?" and maybe that would've worked when you weren't pissed at your boyfriend. maybe. but now all it does is rile you up.

"i don't need you to get off, dave." you spit his name out, reaching over to throw out the cotton balls that you'd just used. when you come back to face him, he has a slightly condescending smile on his face.

"sure, but you know it feels better when i do it."

he might be right, but you're not one to back down from a fight. you're not gonna let him win this sort of argument. so you situate to straddle one thigh, stare into his blue eyes, and watch as you start to slowly drag your hips along his quad, exaggerating your moans just to get a reaction out of him.

#davesworld!#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski #celeste writes misc

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yuri-is-online · 8 months

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Missed Connection Section of the NRC Gazette (Floyd, Leona, and Ruggie)

While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Yuu is implied to be short, based off the personal items you can find in the guest room and a line from Floyd's dormwear card, title inspired by a country song that has nothing to do with the subject of the fic. I got a request for the 300 followers event, but since it's closed and I had this kicking around for Floyd anyway I added the other two requested characters. If you liked this you can read my other fics here.

Grey Scarf

"Floyd." Azul has a boring look on his face, all grimacy and angry and not worth Floyd's attention. Unfortunately he is very close to his face making it a tad impossible to ignore. "Where is your scarf?"

"Dunno." He says. "I ain't wearing it."

"I can see that." Snaps Azul. "You need it for your shift, you look sloppy enough as it is. You scarf is a part of your uniform! How can you be so careless with it?"

Because it's ugly. Sure, it matches his dorm uniform kind of but his socks get to be a snazzy purple with a cute octopus pattern, why'd the scarf have to be such a boring grey? Rules are rules though, and he does need it to work so he drags himself back over to his room and starts looking around. Normally, he would just steal Jade's and wait tables until he figured it out and forced Floyd to take the kitchen off his hands, but Floyd really didn't feel like cooking today. He didn't feel like waiting tables either, but money was money and Azul paid well. Only if he could find his stupid scarf apparently which was nowhere he could see, and he was far from happy about physically looking. Jade opens the door as he's halfway through emptying his bedside drawer on top of his bed, alongside all the laundry he'd had scattered across the floor.

"Looking for your scarf?" Floyd throws a pillow at him which is quickly returned with a pointed look that dares him to escalate things further just obviously enough Floyd doesn't want to do it. Instead he falls face first into the pile of laundry and nick nacks he'd been sorting through, making Jade sigh in disappointment.

"'s not here." Floyd grunts, muffled by an ok smelling t-shirt.

"Have you tried retracing your steps?" Jade is saying it just to be annoying but it is ok advice. Floyd tries, he doesn't usually wear his dorm uniform outside of school stuff, so it would have to be somewhere on campus. He hauls himself up from the pile and shuffles past his brother, the walk out of the mirror and towards the main campus passing by in a blur. There's a vague memory of club practice, but that could have been from any day this week, and it's not like he wears it to classes. Floyd chews on his lip in annoyance, he feels like he remembers where the last place the scarf was, but his bad mood is keeping him from sorting through his memories intellectually. It also keeps him from looking where he's going, smacking him directly into a very tiny, very familiar looking person who pointedly ignores his angry snarl to shove something in his face. Something very familiar, very boring, and very clearly the only reason either of them had left their dorms this evening.

"Seriously," the little shrimp has to stand up on their tip toes to throw the scarf around his shoulders "you have got to stop leaving your things at my dorm!" He thinks they're angry. That would explain the look on their face, but it's making his heart do weird flips between his chest and his stomach that keep him from thinking straight. A smile finds its way to his face, wide and unbidden coupled with outstretched arms that can't catch them fast enough, like he's reaching through honey even though he finds his mark and tugs them thrashing into his embrace.

"Awww," the words that come out of his mouth don't really feel like his "was little shrimpy wooooried about me?" He should say thank you. That's what Mamma Leech would say, and it's not that he doesn't want to, it's just there's a weird weight to the words he can't quite figure out. Something that wants to be said, but not just yet. They deserve a better tone, a better mood.

"No!" Yuu yells, muffled by his squeeze and unaware of how struggling is only going to make his hold tighter. "You just always burst in and whine about being bored-" Floyd nuzzles his cheek against theirs, trying to ignore the pushing against his chest as he sets them down.

"It's ok little shrimpy, you don't have to be so modest. Good shrimpies get rewards, I'll make sure to bring you something after I get off work, make sure to leave the door unlocked for me~" Or maybe don't, he could find his way in anyway he's sure of that but there's something about the fantasy of them wanting to see him (it's not a fantasy, they've invited him over before he knows that they don't fear him as much as they should) after work that's going to get him through the shift. Maybe he'll ditch the scarf again and make them come running after him on purpose this time, he thinks to himself with an uncharacteristically gentle smile.

Grand Wallet

Contrary to what he would say out-loud, Leona does think that the Ramshackle Prefect is quite smart. You do not survive as a magicless student from a different reality without some flexibility and raw intelligence. The consistency with which they could pick up on things and see through concealed intentions demands respect. But, he supposes as he idly thumbs through his bill fold disappointed to find it just as thick as when he left it, they are also... he decides to go with nice. The concerned way they stare at him is nice, Leona likes positive attention. He just wishes it wasn't from the nicest person he knows, is it so wrong to wish he had some reassurance that there was someone willing to be only nice to him? There's an ugly sort of suspicion they might have refused to steal from him out of fear, he's certainly more of a threat to them than he is to Ruggie.

"Well I guess I owe you a reward huh?" They jump, not helping the accusation (unvoiced) that they're only doing this out of fear.

"No?" Yuu says, looking around them probably to make sure that bratty cat monster isn't within earshot. Leona doesn't care about rewarding Grim, this is between him and the prefect, not some gluttonous bastard who is half the reason he was expecting to be stolen from in the first place. "You- Just stop forgetting things at my place!" He smiles slightly at that choice of phrasing just as they cringe at it. It almost makes him sound like a normal guy, if a Prince was leaving things around someone's place that would invite speculation; and Leona knows better than anyone that speculation invites scandal.

"Real shame no one ever does things out of the goodness of their hearts these days." His voice drawls as embarrassment settles over their face. They look almost mouse-like, if they try to speak Leona just knows they'll squeak and they clearly know it too. "You're really twisting my arm here, pretty shameless, prefect." That does it, the deep breath they take does nothing but really accentuate the harsh contrast of the squeaking to their normal voice.

"I did not," Yuu is so mortified they can barely get the words out, if he can't be the only recipient of their kindness he will satisfy himself with batting them around in his paws until they can pull together some nerves and force him to stop "return your wallet just for a reward. It's yours it belongs to you and now it is back where it belongs. Which isn't my guest room on top of a fucking couch seriously Leona-" Mice still have claws, even if the dent they leave is just a little scratch to such a big cat, he finds himself pleased with the annoyance of Yuu finding their voice. "It was like you were practically begging to be robbed. What if one of the Leech twins found that huh? Would you be getting it back?"

"Only after I paid the finders fee." He can ignore the tickle caused by the unsavory image of an eel inviting itself into your personal space. "Which is what I am doin' now, you're demanding it remember?" He tunes his ears to their footsteps as he walks towards the cafeteria, content with how quickly they jump to follow. The typically steady beat of their heart is skipping in tune with the directions of their thoughts. Good, the mouse is smart contrary to what the trapped lion thinks, so let them; they'll realize the hold they have over him soon enough.

Empty Lunch Box

This was really starting to annoy you, but no matter how much you turned the whole thing over in your mind you couldn't figure out why. You had been tempted to try and ask someone about it, but you could already tell what the general reaction to the situation would be.

The "situation" being that simply put, Ruggie liked to hang out in your guest room. That wasn't the issue. You liked having Ruggie over, it's actually really nice. Sometimes he brings small projects from some odd job or another and you'll work on them together while having a chat. He likes to ask you things about your world, it started as just small talk about the sort of jobs you'd had in your world but evolved into much more meaningful talks about your hobbies and the family you missed. You had even had a lengthy conversation about death and the difference between cultural beliefs about where you go after you die. Yes it was very nice and domestic even but then you made the mistake of trying to be nice.

Ruggie liked to bring a lunchbox with him when he visited. Sometimes it had food in it, and while he hadn't shared it with you at first, but then you started talking about your families and he had slightly warmed up to the idea of sharing snacks. You hadn't taken anything from him until he explicitly offered, and when he forgot the now empty lunch box you had pulled some of your personal savings to get him something from the Mystery Shop. It was supposed to be a cute surprise for him to find when you returned the lunch box, and it worked. Granted you had intended for him to find it after he got back to his dorm, but he had sniffed it out as soon as you handed it over. His reaction was cute, he was cute, it was almost like he thought he was dreaming with just how excited he had been to receive some packaged pastries. When he came over later in the week and left the lunchbox again you had done the same thing. Fair is fair, he gets you jobs and shares his food and you give a little food back in return. Lately though something has been different. Ruggie has still been coming to hang out, he still brings work, you still talk, and he still leaves that damn lunch box. But he hasn't been sharing anything, meaningful; personal information or foodwise.

Maybe it was the death conversation. If you had revealed you were an orphan and that you never knew your mom to someone you had a crush on (not that Ruggie like likes you no matter how much you might might want that) you would be pumping the breaks too. But it still kind of hurt, it felt like a rejection of something that you knew hadn't existed in the first place.

"Y'know you don't have to give me stuff." Ruggie had come over today too, with shitty plastic garbage that needed packed into boxes. He's either read your mind or noticed you brought the remainder of the packaged goods out to snack on while you work. You try to asses him from behind your pile of card stock, he's overly focused on his task. Reflective maybe? He is almost pouting.

"I wanted to." You decide to stick with honesty, sure Ruggie might be sneaky but he deserves that much, doesn't he? "You share with me, I share with you. Fair's fair, right?"

"Right." Ruggie says, audibly disappointed to your confusion. You have never seen him so... gloomy over the concept of someone owing him a favor. Especially one paid back in food. "You do that for everybody, yeah?"

"Yeah?" You say, pausing in your work for just a second to try and collect yourself. Up until a few seconds ago you had been under the impression that had been one of your better qualities.

"So like," he isn't looking at you and his ears are saggy, tugging at your heartstrings painfully though just a tiny part of you is starting to hope- "if Leona left no that doesn't make sense. If Jack left his lunch box here and it was empty would you buy him a snack?" You think for a second.

"Did he share his lunch with me?"

"Yes." Ruggie's looking at you again, like he has a bone to pick.

"Maybe." You don't really have to think about the answer, as much as you like returning the favor Jack would probably just be happy to find his lost item and leave it at that. "If we were hanging out and he wanted something from a vending machine I'd spot him."

"But you wouldn't go out of your way to get him something?" Ruggie's stopped working now, he's really staring at you almost like he is trying to sus you out as if he hasn't been friends with you for a while now. As if he doesn't know more of your secrets than anyone else.

"I-" for some reason what you want to say gets stuck on your throat, maybe it's because Ruggie leans across the couch to get a bit closer to your face. Maybe it's because you are suddenly a lot more aware of what your little actions might have meant to him as your previous conversations play over in your mind "no. You're the only person I've really gone out of my way to get food for. Well except for maybe Grim but he doesn't really count..." You both let out sharp breaths, your eyes fall down to your work, hands going back to the task out of habit and desire to distract yourself.

shishishishi

Ruggie is silent and back in his perch across from you once your head snaps up to look at him. His small grin is intoxicating, his tail is swishing in pride like he's just won a great victory in some war you had no idea he was fighting. It is a smug look, too smug for someone who just put you through a few days of mental torture.

Maybe you'll make him some food next time, you'll see who is smug after that.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #when i realized leona leaves his whole ass wallet at your guest room i screamed #the soul of ruggie bucchi became my stand #and we had a spiritual experience with the amount of horror we felt at the idea of a fucking PRINCE LEAVING HIS GODDAMN WALLET #WAS YOUR DRIVER'S LICENSE IN THAT LEONA? EVER THINK OF THAT #FORGET THE CASH AND CARDS YOUR FUCKING LICENSE??? LEONA???

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euphoricfilter · 24 days

Note

"should we go to sleep, love?" + yoongi + 1 (yandere) + 6 (ddlg) + 7 (mafia) !!!

(i was thinking about your au/short https://www.tumblr.com/euphoricfilter/710690718982766592/baby-we-need-to-get-dressed-so-jinnie-can-watch 👀)

cake and ice cream:

pairing: mafia yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || yandere au || mafia au || established relationship

summary: all it takes to stop a sugar rush is a nice warm bubble bath

word count: 637 words (a small treat!)

tags/ warnings: fluffy fluff, sweet boyfriend yoongi (forget how they met), they’re in love and it’s cute, a pinch of ddlg

notes: i actually used to love writing for this couple i’m glad we could bring them back >:) this can be read as a standalone!!!

previous parts: how time has changed you || it’s all in your head || consumed by you

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you’d been scuttling around the house for hours, never sticking to one of your many hobbies for more than 20 minutes before you decide you’re bored and want to do something else.

yoongi can only assume it’s the little treat he’d brought home for you after dinner. and as much as cake on its own would have been enough, you’d looked up at him with the precious little smile, asking for a bowl of ice cream on the side. you’d been eyeing it since yesterday afternoon when he’d taken you to the store to pick out a treat for the week.

and how could he say no? treats are there to be eaten and he would never deny you that simply little pleasure.

“should we go to sleep, love?” yoongi asks from the couch, watching you pull a sketchbook from one of the drawers under the TV.

you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, shaking your head.

“not tired yet, yoon” you murmur, pulling your paints out the drawer to find your colour pencils.

he leans back a little, legs spread as he watches you rummage around, mess you’re making sure to stay there unless he cleaned it up for you

“how about a warm bath then?”

that makes you pause. smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“we have that vanilla bubble bath you picked out…” he continues.

you drop the sketchbook back into the drawer.

“can we make the towel warm for after…” you fully turn to look at him.

“of course, my love” he stands, reaching out his hand for you.

you take it without hesitation, letting him help you stand before you trail behind him up the stairs.

“pink or yellow towel tonight?”

you fall onto the bed once you’re in the bedroom, hands reaching for the soft pillows on your side of the bed.

you lean your cheek against the pillow, looking over at yoongi who has both towels in hand.

“pink” you chirp.

you stay on the bed as too go runs the bath, room peaceful with the splash of water echoing off the walls of the bathroom, sweet smelling bubble bath finally lulling you into the late evening haze of sleep, slowly creeping closer to the warm embrace of bedtime.

it isn’t long before yoongi is slipping out the bathroom, huff of a laugh passing through his lips as looks at you sprawled across the bed.

“bath is ready” he hums, though you make no attempt to move.

“too tired” it comes out muffled, face pressed in the pillow.

“for someone whose been running around all evening i’m not surprised, poor thing” he croons, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

he’s quick to pick you up, slung over his shoulder as he trudged back into the bathroom, gentle as he sits you on the toilet seat.

“arms up, baby”

you do as he says, head tipping forward to lean on his stomach as he unhooks your bra.

it isn’t long before your sat in the bath, eyes slipping shut as yoongi’s fingers work through your hair, pressing down over your scalp, down the back of your neck and over your shoulders. tension eased by soapy warm water and his deft fingers pressing over sore muscles

“no falling asleep in the bath” he murmurs, fingers raking through your hair, “still need to do your skincare”

“will you do it for me” you press a warm cheek against the cold porcelain edge of the tub.

“of course, my darling” his fingers brush over your jaw, “if that is what you want, then i’ll always be there to do it for you”

“love you” you breathe out, blinking up at him with tired eyes.

his lips curl into a gentle smile, “and i love you more than you’ll ever know”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #yoongi #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you

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polakina · 11 months

Text

history lesson

pairing: steven grant x reader

rating: explicit

outline: people say not to mix your personal life with working life. The rules change when your working life is a major turn on for your personal life.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, slightly dom steven,

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

Making your way through London, you smoothed out your pants where creases has started to appear from sitting on the bus for the past twenty minutes. Holding your tray of coffees in one hand, your hands brushed over your thighs before moving up to rearrange your hair. You decided to let it down today, its usual place being tied up to stay out of your face. But you had a tour today, and wanted to look your best. You were lying to yourself, really. You didn’t want to look your best for the tour. Not when someone else was who you wanted to catch the attention of. Not that you needed to do much, the two of you were practically joined at the hip anyway. But after being apart for so long, different shifts meaning you hadn’t been able to spend a night together in the past three weeks.

It was proving to be a lot harder than you both thought, being on one another’s mind constantly. It was hard to get him out of your head, but it wasn’t as though he was a burden living up there. The two of you lived on opposite ends of town, work really being the only time you’d ever pass one another unless you both had the same day off. Which rarely ever happened.

As you walked to the museum, your mind drifted back to the last night you’d been with eachother. How much fun you had both had. Sure, he was a quiet, reserved character inside of work. But outside? Fuck, it was as though he was an entirely different person. The whines, the begs, the pleads for you, it clouded your thoughts and made you throb a little. God he always sounded so pretty, and you were hoping that you’d be able to hear those noises again soon.

Shaking your head, you clicked back to the present, narrowly avoiding a young couple walking your way with no intention of moving aside. Turning the corner, your eyes met with the all too familiar museum building of which you had worked at for the past few years. You were not ready to face Donna today, but you weren’t complaining, not when you’d be seeing Steven today.

Up the stairs your feet took you, past the various people dotted around on the steps, some sitting and staring into space, others standing and having a chat about where to go next on their little outing. Manoeuvring around them with quiet “excuse me”’s, you entered the museum to be greeted with bustling crowds and the smell of freshly displayed artefacts. J.B was sat at his usual seat, not doing his job as always. You didn’t even have to look at his screen to know what he was watching. Fucking otter videos. What an incredible security detail your workplace possessed.

“Hey, J.B,” you called out while passing him, only to hear a quiet grunt in response. Typical. Walking past him without saying anything further, you made your way through the building to the staff room. But not without making a short pit stop at a certain someone’s designated working space.

“Morning, Steven,” you said as you approached the gift shop desk where he was arranging snacks on the counter. Placing your coffee tray down, you took out the coffee you collected for him and slid it over to him.

His eyes took their time trailing up your form before eventually meeting your gaze. “Morning, sweetheart. You look nice.” The slight stammer in his voice was, had and been, present since the two of you met. Even after years, he was still so shy around you. You couldn’t lie, you loved it. The way he would stutter over his words when he noticed you, how he fumbled with his fingers in overly public settings until you took his hand in your own to calm him down. You would never grow tired of it.

“Thank you. I have another tour today, high school kids I think. Not that I think they’ll particularly care about Egyptian history,” you half joked, liking how it pulled a smile onto his lips, even just for a minute. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves,” Steven responded, leaning his forearms onto the counter. “I know I would.” You smiled at that. How his eyes fought to stay on your face, even though all he wanted to do was take you all in.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Donna beat you to it. “Oi! You two, the hell are you doing? Take…whatever this is,” she gestured to the two of you with waves of her hands. “And do it after work, ‘kay? You’re not paid to ogle at one another.” You bit back an amused smile as she turned on her heel and swiftly clacked away into the main greeting hall

“She’s a bundle of fun, isn’t she?” You rolled your eyes as you heard her shout at another employee. That woman could wake the dead if she put a little more effort into her micromanaging. Turning back to Steven, you pushed yourself off the counter which you were leaning against and grabbed your coffee. “I’ll see you after my tour, yeah?” He nodded, and you winked before walking off. You just missed the way his cheeks reddened slightly as you left.

Three hours later, your tour was over, and ran surprisingly successfully. Packing up your materials, storing your laptop away in its respectable place in your bag, and making sure you hadn’t left anything lying around for Donna to lecture you about, you made your way over to Steven’s station. To your surprise, he wasn’t there. Very out of character for a shy and rue abiding employee. Donna was going to have his head for this. Setting your bag atop the counter, you stepped around it to look behind where Steven left his work possessions, in search of a note or something that might indicate where he had gone.

Three minutes of your searching passed, nothing to be seen. About to give up, you moved to turn around to leave, until two hands grabbed your waist, slinking around it until they rested on your stomach. You knew it was Steven, his unique touch burned into your memory, but it was strange for him to do this in such an open setting.

“Steven, what are you-”

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear, voice dropped to a low baritone that nestled right in the space between your legs. “They’ll hear us.” There was something different about him. Darker, more intense. You loved it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You whispered back, before he spun you around for you to face him. “I’ve missed you,” he answered, eyes flitting between you and the door opposite his desk to make sure no one interrupted you. “We haven’t been able to have each other in so long, always being too busy with work. But then you come in dressed so pretty, and I can hear you in your tour, and I can’t help myself.” You liked this new side to him. More desperate, pleading, needing you now.

“So what do you want, Steven, hmm?” You wanted it in words. You knew exactly what he wanted from you. You just wanted to hear him say it. His eyes widened a little as he tried to keep his voice to a whisper.

“We- I want you. Need you. Now.” The cracks in his voice pushed you over the edge and you couldn’t deny him or yourself any longer. The second you nodded to give him what he wanted, he was pulling you into the storage room behind the gift shop. You eagerly pushed yourself through the door and as soon as you heard the door click behind you, you were being guided to the nearest unopened wooden crate. His lips pressed against yours wildly, frantically, as though he was trying to explore all of you at once. Steven’s hands roamed all over your body before settling on your waist, lifting you onto the crate. Standing between your opened legs, his hands were wandering all over again. Up your stomach, ghosting over your breasts and to the buttons of your shirt. Popping them off quickly and efficiently with deft fingertips, his lips never left yours as he pulled the shirt from your body. Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Soft whines expelled from his throat as his lips travelled south, peppering kisses along your jaw, down your neck, never leaving your skin. “Need to fuck you. Can I fuck you? Please?” His breathy moans were like ecstasy to you. You were entirely addicted to it.

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt his hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples. “Right here? In the storage room where anyone could walk in?” You whispered back. He nodded eagerly, looking up at you with lustful, expectant eyes. “You needy thing. Of course you can, baby.” He wasted no time after hearing the words fall from your lips, fingers moving swiftly to your pants, undoing the button and zip in record time.

“Wanna taste you. Missed you so much.” Steven mumbled incoherent sentences and praises, barely heard by either of you. You wanted him. Badly. Wanted his touch, his lips, his tongue. Everything. You could barely register that he’d pulled down your pants and already dropped to his knees in front of you. He was looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, his large hands rubbing up and down your bare thighs. “Let me make you feel good. Please. I want to make you feel so good.”

Fuck it was heavenly when he begged for you like this. You grew wetter with every word he uttered. “Make me feel good, baby,” you whispered down to him, a sternness lacing your tone. An eager nod confirmed that that was exactly what Steven was about to do.

Within seconds, his head dove between your legs, tongue licking a stripe through your folds, but narrowly and intentionally avoiding your clit. He continued that a few times, his tongue working wonders on you, but your clit neglected. He was teasing you. He knew every inch of your body, spent many months committing it to memory. He knew every part of your body from head to toe, every part which made you moan, whine, cry out for more. He was doing this purposefully to you. As much as you’d want to punish him for teasing you like this, you needed him too badly.

Gripping his curls between your fingers, you tugged his head up a little so his eyes flicked up to your face. “Don’t tease me, baby. Or you won’t get what you want,” you warned, trying not to sound as fucked as you already felt. He nodded, humming quietly against your pussy before delving back in.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, he revelled in the breathy hitch in your throat as you tried to keep quiet. One hand stayed wrapped around your thigh while the other slipped between your legs, his fingertips finding your dripping hole. Pushing one finger in and curling it at a delicious angle to catch that spongey part inside you, he repeated the ministration with vigour to pull more moans from you, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside you.

He was too good at what he did. Not that you would have expected it from first glance. But he was a quick learner, and an enthusiastic one at that. There had been many nights where he had just explored you, learned your favourite places to be touched and kissed. He was your student, you his teacher, educating him on the ways of pleasure for both you and himself. By God, had it worked. He was practically skilled in the art of it.

You could feel it building fast. The pit in your stomach, coiling and churning into waves of expected pleasure that was about to crash over you. Your thighs caged his head in tighter, one hand gripping his hair to keep him in place while the other held you up, palm flat against the crate just behind you. “Oh fuck…fuck, fuck fuck. Yes right there,” you breathed out as his tongue and fingers worked in unison, faster and faster as he felt you getting closer. It crashed over you. Violently. Waves and waves of pleasure surging through your body, tensing all your muscles and clamping Steven in place as your orgasm took over you. You fought to keep quiet, your hand which previously rested atop his head, now flew to your mouth to cover your moans.

Coming down from your high, you saw Steven stand out of your peripheral vision, sucking the juices of his fingers and revelling in the taste.

“Fuck, what’s gotten into you?” You breathed out, panting a little. “I’m not mad or anything, just surprised.”

He grinned a little, standing between your legs once again, his chin glistening with your sweet release. His hands braced himself on either side of you, palms pressing into the crate as he leaned towards you. “You just looked so good, giving that tour, talking about history. I dunno, just couldn’t help it.” He had a dopey smile on his face as you pulled him in for a kiss, softly brushing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Me talking history turns you on?” You kissed his cheek, hands brushing down his chest, fingernails digging into his shirt as you raked them down his body. You felt him nod against your lips, and you smiled against his cheek in return. “Naughty, in the workplace you can’t even control yourself, huh, baby?” you practically heard him whimper at the words. He lived for the way you spoke to him. Craved it like a drug. Always wanted more, and to his happiness, you were always willing to give it. “Gonna fuck me in the museum? Where any of our co-workers could hear us?”

Steven as already nodding before you’d finished asking him the question. All he wanted was you. Wherever that happened to be, he was desperate for you and your touch. You smiled at him, one of your hands trailing down past the belt on his pants to the prominent bulge in his pants. Cupping it and squeezing it gently, you were already pulling such pretty noises from him. Your lips grazed his ear before you spoke again. “Come on then, baby boy, show me just how much you want me”. It was a miracle Donna didn’t hear what came after those words.

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #mcu #marvel #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Text

their secret weapon pt. 1

Synopsis: The Judgement Day has their eye on a new member, and they make their move on Y/N to convince them to join. A/N: Part 2 coming soon!!!

The Judgement Day had quickly become one of the most dominant groups in the WWE. They had a hand in both the men’s and women’s division, Rhea was on her way to one of the biggest matches of her career on the grandest stage of them all, and they obliterated any superstar who came in their way. The four of them all walked around backstage with an undeniable swagger that no one could stomp out and they knew they were the best; however, the best of the best still needed to find ways to grow. Damian and Rhea would usually go to the NXT tapings every week and watch from backstage. They not only were looking for the best talent rising through the industry, they were looking for people just like them; people who were stomped on, taken advantage of…people who continued to prove themselves and got nothing in return. For the longest time no one stuck out. They didn’t see the drive and hunger they needed in The Judgement Day…until Y/N walked in. That night, they’d taken hit after hit in a championship match and had gotten so close to taking the win. And even though the WWE audience that night showed their appreciation, management in the back was much less kind. Rhea and Damian knew exactly what they needed to do. They told Finn and Dominik that night and immediately began working on a plan to get Y/N into the palm of their hand.

It began with small hints in Y/N’s locker room - black hoods, purple bandanas, any small indicator of the four monsters who’d begun watching them with a close eye. Y/N didn’t think much of it, they just kept going on about their business. They worked their ass off in NXT, fighting for every opportunity big or small just to prove they could be the face of the WWE. Even short backstage promos with other susperstars just go hopefully work their way into the fold of what NXT had planned for its athletes. But for every ounce of work they put in, it was stomped on and ridiculed. Nothing they did was good enough…until four people walked in and changed their life.

It was the night of NXT Vengeance Day. The day Y/N’s career was about to take a turn for the best. They walked away from their locker room for only a couple of minutes, but when they came back a purple envelope was left on top of their suitcase. The envelope was sealed with purple wings, and when Y/N opened it there were directions to a different room backstage. It finished with simple instructions. Knock three times. Await your judgement day. Y/N had to admit that the words gave them goosebumps, and while they wanted to run away and keep themselves out of whatever mess The Judgement Day was creating, they just couldn’t. Y/N hesitantly got dressed and made their way to the location given to them in the letter, which was a door that looked pretty much like any other closet door in the backstage area. They following their instructions and waiting for the door to slowly open though, looking around nervously in case any cameras or other superstars caught them. Once it was open, Y/N let themselves inside to a dark room lit only by a couple of candles and purple LED lights. “Take a seat.” said a deep voice from behind them that they recognized as none other than Damian Priest. They’d heard that voice enough during WWE broadcasts.

Once Y/N got comfortable, the other three members of the purple-hued faction made themselves visible while The Punisher joined them. They all stood in front of Y/N, looking down at them with the biggest smirks on each of their faces. “Your life is going to change today, Y/N.” Rhea said. “Yeah right.” Y/N mumbled with a small roll of their eyes.

“She’s right.” Balor chimed in, stepping closer to the NXT superstar. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you. We see how management treats you, how other superstars treat you…and you’re more than what they’ve made you out to be.” He said softly, Y/N’s face watching with curiosity mixed with fear. Dominik wrapped an arm around Rhea’s waist. “And if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even be here right now.” He said with the same shit-eating grin on his face as the rest of them. His words made Rhea chuckle softly. “I turned Dom into a star. I gave him an opportunity when no one else would.” She said softly, this time walking closer to Y/N and wrapping her arms around them from behind. “We could do the same for you. You just need to let us in.” Rhea smirked, her black lipstick-covered lips brushing against Y/N’s ear.

Her words and her touch made Y/N shiver with anticipation and nerves. Normally they weren’t this much of a pushover; they’d learned to put up a fight for themselves over the course of their time in this industry. But their words were too good to be true; the fact that four people - four stars in this business - were giving them more of a chance than anyone else had…it was like a dream. But Y/N couldn’t give in that easily. They let out a shaky sigh and looked up at Damian, Finn, and Dominik while Rhea continued to stand behind them. “What’s in it for me?” they asked softly. “How do I know I can trust you? I’ve been torn down enough in this business, I don’t need you all to help with that.”

Damian chuckled softly and looked at his friends before looking back at Y/N. “Anything you want and more.” He said. Rhea nodded in agreement and gently squeezed Y/N’s body. “At the end of the day, you have four people who want nothing but the best for you. Not only do they want the best…” she turned Y/N’s face to look at them. “But we’ll give you the best.” Damian nodded and stepped closer as well. “You just have to trust us.”

#rhea ripley #damian priest #dominik mysterio #finn balor #wwe x reader #rhea ripley x reader #damian priest x reader #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #wwe the judgement day #wwe imagine #rhea ripley imagine #damian preist imagine #dominik mysterio imagine #finn balor imagine #wwe the judgement day imagine

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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

Note

Can I please request tom overworking a bit and distancing himself from his girlfriend (reader) and then she kind of goes to him while he's busy and has a breakdown and its comfort and fluff?

TIRED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom has been more busy than usual with the band, not realising that by doing this, he has distanced himself from you. when you try talk to him, he finally breaks down.

content: fluff.

a/n: i wasn’t sure if u wanted tom or reader to have the breakdown, but i assumed tom, if u meant the reader i’m so sorry anon, but nonetheless thank you so much for the request!!

“hey my love, how was work?” i ask as tom trudges through the door, closing it with a loud thud. i don’t know why i bother asking him, i know that i’ll get minimal response, exactly as i have the past couple of weeks. yet he has acted like everything is fine, brushing me off when i ask what’s going on, so i have given up trying, slowly coming to the conclusion that it is something to do with me. perhaps he is becoming tired of me, and doesn’t want to be with me anymore - and that thought completely terrifies me. so i stay quiet, deciding that being with a distant tom who doesn’t feel the same about me is better than losing him altogether.

“fine.” he mutters, walking into the living room and seeing me sat on the couch, bending down to place a quick kiss on my forehead before leaving the room, going god knows where. this had become routine now - he would briefly let me know he was home, either giving me a quick hug or kissing me on my forehead, instead of the extreme levels of affection he would usually show. that was how my suspicions started. normally, he would come home, showering me with kisses, touching me in some way whilst letting me know how his day was, then ask how mine was, listening intently to every word that i would say. but, that all came to an end as i would be lucky to get a kiss on the lips before he would go to the kitchen or straight to bed, the most affection i receive being when he loosely wraps his arm around my waist whilst he sleeps every night.

i exit the living room, looking for tom and, staying true to that routine, i find him laid down in bed, his eyes empty and tired as he stares at the ceiling, his hoodie now off as he lays in some oversized basketball shorts.

he is aware of my presence, yet stays silent, refusing to even look at me as i stand in the door frame, watching him intently, wondering what went wrong, or, what i had done wrong to make him fall out of love with me - my mind now set on that idea as it is the only logical explanation it can come up with for his stand-offishness.

“do you still love me?” i speak into the silence, tom’s head shooting up as i say the words, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“what? of course i love you. why would you think that i don’t?” his voice is calm, laced with bewilderment, clearly wondering how i could ask such a question.

i can tell that he is sincere, meaning everything that he says, making me doubt my initial reasoning for his distance as i begin to feel a little stupid for thinking that he had fallen out of love with me. though the confirmation that i hadn’t done anything wrong only puzzled me more, making tom’s coldness towards me even more of a mystery.

i realise that i have been quiet for a little too long, tom’s eyes still looking into mine, his head raised from the pillow as he awaits my answer. i shake my head, forcing a small smile. “nothing. it’s just me being paranoid, sorry.”

he tilts his head to the side, not convinced at all.

“you sure?” he asks, this being the longest conversation we had in days, tom never wanting to engage in anything, instead offering short, one word answers. he still seems distant, but i can tell that my question clearly came as a surprise, this reassuring me a little.

i nod my head, walking to the bed and climbing in beside him, a strange tension between us as we lay in silence.

“goodnight.” he mutters, draping his arm over my stomach, still remaining a little far from me instead of his whole body being against me as it usually would be, my mind searching for answers as i am left completely confused, nothing adding up. i try to shake it off, hearing tom’s breathing slow from behind me, indicating that he has fallen asleep as i try to do the same, knowing that i am determined to get something out of him, even if it is the smallest detail that would help me piece together why he has started to act like this - now able to rule out it being my fault.

the door opens and closes, slamming a little louder than it usually does as the noise sounds throughout the house. i expect tom to show his face, come into the living room and give me a small reminder of his affection, before trudging off again. but, much to my surprise, he doesn’t even do that, marching straight up the stairs as a frustrated huff escapes his mouth, his steps loud and exaggerated, telling me that whatever is going on in his life certainly isn’t getting any easier. he had never gotten this angry, always making sure he said hey, even if it was just for a second, but i didn’t even see his face this time, letting me know that he is much more upset than usual.

although i can’t ignore the slight pang of fear from within me as i walk up the stairs to talk to him, i stay strong, just about done with his unexplained distance, wanting to get to the bottom of it. i hear the sound of his guitar from our bedroom, the door fully shut as his cursing momentarily shouts over the melody. my hand reaches for the door, hesitating a little as it hovers over the wood, before pressing my knuckles against it a few times.

my fingers clasp around the handle, turning it and pulling the door open. tom looks up for a second, seeing me standing there, before turning his attention back to the guitar, roughly strumming the strings.

“you okay?” i softly ask, slightly hurt at his ignorance, but this is about him not me, so i brush it off, accepting it as a small burst of his frustration. whilst he shouldn’t take it out on me, i know that the last thing he needs is me scolding him.

“great.” he mutters sarcastically, not looking up from the guitar that rests on his lap as he continues to fiddle with the strings, groaning with frustration as he throws his head back, his jaw clenched. he notices me still standing by the door, rolling his eyes slightly, visibly irritated by my presence.

“do you need something?” he sighs, aggravation plastered on his face as he stares at me, eyes cold and strangely foreign, no care within them as it is suddenly obvious he wants nothing more than for me to leave him alone.

i am slightly hurt at his words, the harshness of them stinging my chest as my expression softens, eyes becoming glossy. i look to the floor, not liking the idea of him to see me become so easily upset from his outburst, wanting to appear stronger, but i know that my sadness is evident.

his face softens as he puts his guitar to the side of him on the bed, finally feeling guilty for taking out his frustration on me.

“god i’m sorry- i didn’t mean it like that.” he begins, his voice much softer than before.

my sadness soon turns to anger as i am now completely tired of the way he has treated me, not able to handle his coldness any longer.

“then how did you mean it tom? ‘cause these past few weeks all you’ve done is shut me out! i’ve asked you what’s wrong so many times, and you lie to me over and over again. can you please just talk to me? i’m tired of feeling like i’m fighting just to have a conversation with you.” i pour my heart out, noticing the way his expression falters, eyes darting around the room as tears begin to form a glassy blanket over them.

he looks down into his lap, playing with the material of his hoodie, bouncing his leg up and down against the floor, this something he does whenever he is anxious.

“well? you know i’m here for you, so why are you leaving me in the dark? this isn’t fair tom, i want to help you but you won’t let me in.” i continue, yet his eyes remain fixed on the floor, his body tensed up.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles, his voice shaky as i soon realise that he is crying. his quiet sniffles escape his mouth after he has uttered those two words, his shoulders shaking as he sobs.

my heart clenches at the sight, wishing i could somehow take away his pain and make it my own, hating to see him upset. i rush over to him, sitting beside him on the bed and quickly pulling him into me as he sobs into my shoulder. his arms wrap around my back, clutching onto me so tightly it is hard to breathe, but right now, the only thing on my mind is comforting him, and i will do anything to be there for him.

“talk to me baby. what’s going on with you?” i whisper gently, my fingers playing with the end of his cornrows as his breathing speeds up, his tears falling onto my t-shirt.

he tries to speak, but his words are masked by his sobs, completely incoherent.

“shhh, just calm down first, we’ll talk once you’re settled, mhm?” i say, moving backwards so that i am laying flat against the bed, tom wrapping both arms around my waist as he continues to cry into my shoulder. my nails run up and down his back, this something i would do when he couldn’t sleep to relax him, but right now it seems to be working as his cries begin to slow, his breathing returning to it’s normal rate.

“you ready to talk?” i ask, looking downwards at him as he removes his head from my shoulder for the first time, his eyes red and bloodshot, lips curved into a slight frown.

he nods, sitting up a little, his arms still securely around my waist.

“it’s just- work has been so stressful. tour is coming up so soon, and rehearsals are just so tiring, and i keep fucking it up!” he sighs, his voice wavering as he comes to the end of his speech, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i don’t want to let the guys down, they’ve worked so hard and i’m just ruining it all. maybe i should just quit, i’m clearly not good-”

“woah, hey, slow down a little. you know none of that’s true. you’re the most talented person i know, stop doubting yourself. you’re human, you’re going to make mistakes. but that doesn’t mean you should stop doing what you love. you know that i’ll always believe in you.” i say, looking into his eyes as his thumb begins to move in small circles on my stomach.

“you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my girlfriend and you have to.” he sighs.

“i’m saying this because i love you and i hate it when you doubt yourself so much. it should matter more coming from me, because i know you better than all of the people that doubt you.” i remind him, a little hurt at the fact that he thinks i’m lying.

“what if i fuck up and make us lose our rhythm? it’ll ruin an entire concert, and then it’s all on me.” he says, maintaining eye contact as i sigh, in complete disbelief of how someone so talented can have so little faith in their own ability.

“has that ever happened before?” i ask, already knowing the answer, needing to hear him admit it.

he shakes his head slowly.

“exactly. so what’s overworking yourself and getting stressed out going to achieve? you’re only gonna make it worse. you need to take a break.” i reply, seeing the way that he is tearing himself apart, hating himself for making the smallest of mistakes. “besides, i think i deserve to have you to myself for a couple days. i’ve missed you a lot you know.”

a small smile tugs on his lips as he reaches upwards, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. pulling back to rest his forehead against mine, one hand cupping my cheek.

“you’re right schatz.” he begins. “i’m really sorry for how distant i’ve been. none of this is your fault, i just shut myself off and that isn’t fair on you.”

he kisses my lips again, tightening his hold on me before moving back, a soft smile on his face as he pulls me onto his lap, his arms securely around my waist.

“this weekend…” he trains off, a suggestive grin playing on his lips as he gives my waist a gentle squeeze. “just me and you. we’ll do whatever you want. how’s that sound?”

“anything?” i tease, looking into his eyes playfully as he lets out a small laugh.

“anything.” he repeats, seeing the way my face lights up in excitement. “but…i want just one thing in return.”

he says the last part slowly, and the way his eyes narrow, a playful look of lust present within them, i know exactly what he means, hitting his arm and shaking my head, glad to finally have my boyfriend back, loving every part of him - even the sex obsessed, overly horny side, not wanting to trade any of it for the world.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 2 months

Note

Back with another request! If I send too many, just pick your favourites or ignore them :) also, with any requests from me you can do with !fem or !gn, whichever you prefer!

Maybe the reader works in like a library, or used book shop, and Eddie shows up all the time because he has a crush on her, but hasn't worked up the nerve to actually ask her out or talk to her more than like small talk yet?

Creep

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

[a/n] I'm so sorry this took so long, I'm working on your other request but I wanted to quickly get this one completed. I hope its okay!

[warnings?] religion contemplation? not proof read

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

He’d spent majority of his free days watching from afar, working up the courage to approach her, coming close a couple times but quickly backing out as soon as her eyes locked with his, sending him a small wave and shy smile before turning back to the book she’d been reading intensely.

Eddie swore he could’ve fainted then and there, with the spring sun shining down on her features, highlighting each curve and crevice that graced her skin, she was like an angel incarnate. While he was the furthest from religious he’d happily declare his faith with her as his witness.

Funnily enough he’d been sent to the library to work on his religious studies, not because he cared per sea but because if he was going to play into the idea of being the satan worshipper he might as well make it accurate. Of course his friends had questioned his sanity yet again, almost fearful this would do the opposite he’d intended it to do. However, he wasn’t going to back down from the challenge so easily.

In the short time spent among dusty damp books and you, he’d quickly learnt quite a lot. For one your favourite book was the princess bride, the crumpled pages and frayed spine giving it away. He’d found a sense of comfort in your actions, seeing that while you presented yourself as put together and calm there was clearly a need to escape the present and live through the words of another, with no expectation of the now.

He’d also learnt that you seemed to have your other favourites on rotation, after finishing one you’d switch back to another worn down copy of a classic, taking notice that not one of them appeared to be Lord of the Rings. Perhaps if he even worked up the nerve to talk to you, he’d ask.

There were times when he’d caught himself staring for too long to not be considered creepy, while he’d tried desperately not to be. After weeks of lowkey stalking he’d given up, realising that you didn’t seem to mind, in fact it had become a sort of game between the two of you. From quiet flirting between the shelves and leaving small gifts in the others unmarked territory, it seemed as though you also enjoyed this.

Valentines had quickly approached and while Eddie was never really bothered with mediocre holidays, the prospect of actually participating had him shaking with nerves. The following day he’d walked in with his own copy of Lord of the Rings, dog eared and probably in worse state than yours, quickly placing it in front of you and blurting out his question without a thought.

“Be my valentine?” Stunned at his own forwardness, clearing his throat once more before continuing “I mean I’ve seen you around and I thought that maybe you’d like to go out with me?”

A wide smile spread across your face at his words, his chocolate button eyes staring down at you in desperation as the silence stretched. Seems you both had the same idea though, as you reached down to grab your copy of The Princess Bride, thrusting it into his fidgety hands. Your words had failed but keenly nodding like a lovesick fool at him as you swapped numbers and arranged a date.

Which would be one of many to come

#eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #joe quinn imagine #joe quinn #pbs-thedesecrated #stranger things imagines #stranger things au #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

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fanfic-wonderland · 2 months

Text

This Is War {Fred Weasley} - Part 2

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After avoiding Fred for so long, (Y/N) finally has to face him again when they're paired up for a Potions assignment.

Word count: 7.8k

Read part one here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you still not going to talk to him?” Daphne asks me during lunch, the same way she has asked me every day for the past few weeks.

Ever since I told her about my little… moment with Fred, she hasn’t stopped talking about it one way or another, even when I’ve asked her plenty of times not to. She seems to have become obsessed with the idea of him and I getting together because, according to her, we’d make “an oddly cute” couple, and also “because there is nothing interesting happening in my life and I want to live through you”. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with her head; I have made it extremely clear that the kiss meant nothing to me, that it was just something that happened in the heat of the moment when I was dampened and terrified and he was the only one there giving me the slightest bit of comfort. Either she still doesn’t get that, or she just doesn’t want to. “For the last time, Daphne Greengrass,” I say through gritted teeth. “No. And It’s the last time I’ll say it.”

Daphne whines like a toddler. “But why? It’s clear that he wants to talk to you!”

The kiss happened nearly two weeks ago. After I fled the scene, Fred made numerous attempts to approach me, but I would always find a way to cut the conversation short or avoid it at all costs. He seemed to finally get the hint because It’s been a few days since his last attempt. The only one who hasn’t gotten the hint yet is the girl sitting across from me. “He has his own life to worry about. I’m pretty sure he dropped it already, and so should you.”

She pouts as I stab a piece of pork chop and chew on it. “How are you so sure if you haven’t even talked to him about it yet? Maybe he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and he’s just waiting for you to reach out to him.”

“Forget it, Daphne, there’s nothing to talk about,” I state firmly. “I made a stupid little mistake, that’s all. It’s not like I’m going to go ahead and do it again.”

“I bet you want to, though,” she mutters as she drinks from her cup.

Her voice is low, and she thinks she’s sneaky, but I hear her. I refrain from saying anything else about it, though. It’s no use trying to convince her otherwise.

Fortunately, Daphne does not bring him up for the remainder of our lunch, nor does she bring him up while we learn how to turn vinegar into wine during Charms, or when we’re fighting not to fall asleep during History of Magic. I begin to think that maybe she’s finally gotten the hint until we arrive at the Potions classroom.

Professor Snape places a small bubbling cauldron on top of his desk as we all walk in—Gryffindors on one side of the room and Slytherins on the other. Through the corner of my eye, I spot the unmistakable pair of redheaded twins, sitting two tables to my right, and I fight the urge to turn and see if one of them is looking. “Settle down, all of you,” Professor Snape says in his usual dull voice. “Today, aside from your usual class, you will be placed in pairs for a special project. You will have to work with another student and brew the most powerful Truth Serum to ever exist—the Veritaserum. While it is very easy to sneak it into someone’s pumpkin juice, the brewing process is long and complex. That is why you’ll be working with a partner to make this potion. The longer its effect, the higher your grade.”

A Gryffindor boy raises an arm and Snape turns to him with a sneer. “Does that mean we have to work on it through Spring break?”

“Unless you want to fail, then yes, you should start on the first day of Spring break.”

Nearly every student in the classroom, including Daphne and I, groans in protest. Snape’s lips curl up into a nasty smirk. “That’s quite enough, I do not need to hear your whining. Get it done, or else you fail my class.”

As students begin to look around for their desired partners, I link my arm with Daphne’s. “It shouldn’t be too hard once we combine our geniuses.”

Daphne laughs and agrees. Professor Snape’s eyes fall on us for a quick second before he adds, “I forgot to mention that this is not a friendship project. This time, I’ll be assigning the pairings.”

The class groans even louder than the first time. “Enough,” Snape holds a hand up and we quiet down. “Perhaps when you learn to behave in my class I’ll give you the privilege of choosing your partner, but right now you'll work with what I give you. Now…”

Snape taps the cauldron with the tip of his wand twice and two small pieces of paper fly out of the cauldron. He catches them mid-air and begins to read aloud. “Johnson, Angelina and Warrington, Cassius.”

And then he does the same thing with the rest of the students. Daphne and I frown at each other once we hear her name being called alongside Alicia Spinnet but I guess it was expected that we’d be separated for this assignment from the beginning. The problem is, I realize as I scan the room, that there’s no one else I’d like to work with, and the people who would be fairly tolerable are already paired up with someone else. This assignment is looking to be the worst of the year so far.

“Weasley, Fred and (Y/L/N), (Y/N).”

The absolute worst.

Daphne gasps quietly once she hears the names, her eyes on the brink of popping out. “Did he just…”

“Uh-huh,” I can’t construct a proper reaction. It feels like someone has just slapped me.

I make the mistake of looking over at Fred only to find that he’s already staring at me. He shrugs innocently but he’s clearly trying to hold back a smile while George is dying from laughter behind him. I glare at them and turn away. It can’t be a coincidence that we ended up working together. I refuse to believe that life is this cruel. “I don’t get it,” I protest as we walk out of the classroom. “How in the bloody hell do I get paired up with the person I wanted to avoid the most?”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Daphne suggests, like there actually is a bright side. “At least you’re not working with Crabbe or Goyle.”

“You know, I think at this point I’d rather be working with either of them. At least they’re tame.”

“Yeah, and they’ll probably be more concerned with trying to eat your lunch or something.”

I laugh at her words but it is still not enough to distract me entirely from the situation. Because at the end of the day, I’m still paired up with Fred Weasley for an assignment I could do independently. “What have I possibly done to deserve something like this? There’s no way that life would just pull something like this out of nowhere.”

Daphne places a hand on my shoulder. “I did tell you to clear things out with him.”

I sigh. “You did. Do you think I’m being punished for avoiding the situation?”

“I totally do,” She nods. “Well that, or maybe it was just that Felix Felicis I drank in the morning taking effect,”

“True,” I agree… and then I halt my steps. “Wait, what did you just say?”

She stops walking as well, blinking cluelessly. “Oh, remember that Felix Felicis I brewed months ago? Well, I drank some of it today to help me with the Transfiguration test and I guess I did a great job brewing it because I seem to keep getting good luck everywhere I go. Neat, right?”

“And you’ve also been crying about Fred and I not talking for weeks,” I grab her by the collar of her shirt and she shrieks. People passing by shoot us odd looks but I’m too busy throwing daggers at her. “You were wishing for something like this to happen and of course, as soon as you drink a bit of Liquid Luck, it happens.”

“Well…” She tries to think of something before she gives up. “Okay yeah, so maybe it was kind of my fault, but you know what? You’ll thank me soon enough.”

“Right now I want to murder you,” I push her back and start walking away.

“Oh, hush, It’s not that big of a deal,” Daphne catches up. “So what if you have to work with him on a potion that takes too long to brew? So what if you have you spend your free time with him and—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” I cover my ears. “I do not want to hear it!”

Daphne leans closer and lowers her voice. “Well, you better do something about that because I think he’s waiting to talk to you.”

I follow her eyes and turn to look at Fred, who is usually walking alongside George and Lee Jordan but now is on his own leaning against a wall, hands buried in his pockets. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s staring at me and I have to turn away. “I guess I do have to talk to him at some point. There’s no way out of this…”

She shakes her head slowly and I sigh. It takes every bit of me to turn back around and start walking towards him, but I do it. For the first time in what feels like so long I’m standing face-to-face with him; the two of us just stare at each other for a few moments. “Hi,” Fred breaks the silence.

“Hi,” I say flatly.

There’s a slight flirtatious glint in his eyes all of a sudden. “So… we’re all coupled up now, eh?”

I blink. “Can you not phrase it like that? Anyway, as you already know we have to work on this potion during our Spring break.”

Fred nods slowly. “Right…?”

“So, that means that we’ll have to meet outside of Hogwarts.”

“You want me to come over to your house, then?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I tense up. I could never consider asking him to come over to my house, not even jokingly. That place is cold and empty, and my family is not the most welcoming with families like Fred’s. Even if I’m not fond of Fred, I would never want to put him through something like that. “Your house sounds like the better option, if you don't mind.” I say.

Fred raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?”

He shrugs. “I just think that maybe my house won’t be to your taste, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. As long as your family doesn’t mind, I can stop by.”

“They won’t. Here—” Fred takes out a folded parchment paper and hands it to me. “Here’s my address. I’ll see you, then?”

“Yeah. Until then.”

We walk away from each other and I’m feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

Bloody hell, I have no idea how I’ll survive this…

***

The first day of Spring break arrives in the blink of an eye. Part of me is glad that I don’t have to spend my day at the manor because I’d rather be anywhere else, even Fred Weasley’s house. The other good thing is that, since I can finally use magic outside of school, I can simply apparate anywhere whenever I want. We decide to meet close to sunset, so around five thirty I gather everything I need and I get ready to disapparate from my house without the need to remind my parents where I’ll be. I’m not even sure if they’re still around (or if they even care) but I don’t think of them as the horrible sensation of apparating begins. Everything twists and turns around me, including myself, until finally, I stand amid sunshine, peace, and fresh air. I take it all in once I regain my composure. The place is a beautiful meadow and in it, a few yards away from me, stands a very peculiar, very lopsided house. It’s several stories high, with about four or five chimneys perched on top of its red roof, and a nice open yard at the entrance. I look around to make sure that there are no other houses around. This has to be it.

I walk toward it, careful not to bother the chickens wandering around the yard. There’s a sign near the entrance that reads THE BURROW and that’s how I’m certain that I’m in the right place. Fred specifically wrote that name down on the instructions.

Now that I know that I’m at Fred Weasley’s house, I start getting a tad bit nervous. “Come on, (Y/N), you got this. You’re just here to work on a school project, It’s no big deal.” After taking a few deep breaths, I finally find the courage to knock on the door. For the first few seconds, nothing happens, but soon I begin to hear faded footsteps coming from inside. They start sounding closer, and soon enough someone is opening the door. It’s an older woman with lovely red hair, slightly shorter than me. I instantly know that I am staring down at Fred’s mother. “Hello, dear. You must be (Y/N),” She greets me warmly and I nod with a courteous smile. “Oh, good, how wonderful that you’ve made it! Fred has talked so much about you these past few days.”

“Has he?”

“Oh, yes—come in, come in!” Mrs. Weasley steps aside so I can cross the threshold. “And he wanted everything to look good before you arrived. It usually takes a lot to get him to do his chores, but this time he started on them without me even asking him, so I bet you’re quite a special girl. Anyway, you set your stuff over there on the sofa, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll fetch him. Dinner’s almost ready so I hope you’re hungry.”

She gives me one final smile before she walks up the stairs while calling Fred’s name, but my mind can only spiral around the things she was saying a moment ago. My face feels like It’s boiling, and it shouldn’t be, but the fact that his mom thinks that I’m a ‘special girl’ to him makes me…

Nope. No. No. You need to snap out of it, girl.

I focus my attention back on my surroundings. Everything is so different from my house… and yet, somehow, It’s so much better. The living room is welcoming and cozy and homey. The smell of roast beef and potatoes fills the air, making my stomach grumble. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was earlier. I sit down on the sofa and wait patiently for Mrs. Weasley to come back. I’m staring at the family clock, watching the golden hand with Fred’s face on it pointing at the word HOME, until I hear quick footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn to look at Fred’s real face this time. “I see you were able to get here without getting lost on the way,” He says.

I pry my attention away from the fact that his hair is dripping wet and sticking to his forehead like he just got out of the shower. “I did not doubt myself for a moment. Shall we start working on the potion so we can get it over with?”

“Wow, you really don’t want to be here, do you?” Fred chuckles. “We’re not even going to wait for dinner first?”

I sigh. “I just don’t think It’s a good idea for me to stay too long.”

“Because you kissed me.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“Can you not say that so loud?” I shush him, making sure his mom is still out of sight, but his grin does not falter. I don’t even want to imagine how red my face is. “But… yes, kind of.”

“Well, I’m willing to look past it if you want me to,” He says. “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to stay?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What other reason could there be?”

“I guess I thought that maybe you’d think my house isn’t as nice as yours…”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You really have to stop assuming that I have some sort of superiority complex over you. And for your information, I think your house is lovely.”

Fred looks surprised for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I probably like it a lot more than mine.”

He stares at me for a second but before either of us can say anything else, Mrs. Weasley comes back to the room. “Fred, why don’t you show (Y/N) around the rest of the house? I’ll call you all back here once the food is ready.”

Fred turns to me. “You want to?”

I cannot bring myself to say no in front of his mother. “Sure,”

He starts his little house tour from the top floor, which happens to be where his younger brother, Ron, and his best friend, Harry Potter, stay. There are five floors in total but there’s not much to see. It's mostly just the bedrooms, but the house is still larger than what I had envisioned. The family is much larger as well. “This is the second floor, and our last stop,” Fred says once we take the last step. There are two bedroom doors on this floor level. “And this is mine and George’s room. I’ll let you get a sneak peek of our latest invention if you behave.”

I roll my eyes as he opens the door. “Gee, what an honor.”

Fred and George’s bedroom is somehow almost exactly as I had imagined it—not that I’ve been spending time imagining what their room looks like. It’s a simple room: it has two identical beds, each with a bedside table, a large wardrobe, some posters pasted around the walls, and a desk holding stuff… lots of different stuff. There is a particular lingering smell of gunpowder around and I cannot even begin to imagine the things that happen inside this walls. I step inside and glance at the mess on the desk. Amongst everything else, I see a briefcase with the words Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes engraved on the side sticking out from the rest of the things. I point toward it with a questioning look. “Ah,” He clasps his hands together. “I see you’ve already spotted our products.”

“Your products?”

“George and I invent joke products,” Fred explains. “We’ve actually started testing them out at Hogwarts recently.”

“Really, at Hogwarts? And you don’t get in trouble for it?”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Fred wags his finger practically on my face. He walks to the case and opens it; a bunch of bottles, vials, and boxes of all kinds jump out all at once and set themselves in front of us like a magic exhibition. “But anyway, we mostly just want feedback. We’re planning to open our own joke shop after we graduate and we want everything to be right.”

“Huh,” I never would’ve guessed. When he mentioned their “inventions” I instantly assumed he was talking about crafts or something. I know Fred and George love to get under people’s skin with their little pranks, but I never thought that they loved pranking so much they wanted to build a living around it. But then again, we’ve never been close, so all I know about them is what I've seen back at the castle, which I also tend to avoid.

As I go over the products in silence, my eyes get drawn to the sight of a small brown box. It doesn’t have a label or a logo or any eye-catching design, but it has COMB-A-CHAMELEON handwritten on it and that’s enough to get me intrigued. I look back at him, asking for his permission, and when he motions for me to go on with his hand, I grab it. Inside I can only find an ordinary-looking hairbrush, which throws me off because I was expecting something more, I don’t know, magical? I guess my confusion is clear because Fred laughs lightly while I just keep staring. “Would you like to try it out?” He asks.

I look up at him warily, looking for any signs of malice, but all I can find is a redheaded boy who seems excited by the idea of me using one of his products. “I don’t know if I should…”

“I can promise you that It’s nothing too bad.”

“You don’t strike me as trustworthy when it comes to these things.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Fred admits. “But I’m telling the truth this time, I promise. Go ahead, try it.”

I almost back down from it but I can’t help feeling bad just thinking about it. Fred looks like a kid who attempted to make breakfast by himself and is waiting for his mom to eat it. So I grab the brush and, hesitantly, I start combing my hair. A few brushes are enough to do the trick. Soon enough, I feel some tugging happening around my head. The process lasts a few seconds and then I feel the weight of my hair go down, but it feels lighter. Fred rubs his chin while he stares at me. I have no idea how I look but he nods in approval. “Alright,” He motions toward the mirror hanging from the door. “Go ahead and take a look.”

When I turn to look, I gasp. I expect my hair, which I had let fall down my back in curls earlier, to look like a bird’s nest by the time I’m done, but much to my surprise it is now pulled back into a nice long braid. “Fred,” I run my fingers through it. “This is very impressive! And you guys came up with this from scratch?”

“Yup. Every single one of them.” He sounds proud of himself and his brother. And he should be.

“What else do you have?”

“Oh, tons of stuff,” He reaches and grabs another box, the same color but slightly bigger. This one says SKIVING SNACKBOX in big bold letters and when he opens it there's a ton of what looks like individually wrapped pieces of candy. Fred takes a single piece and removes the wrapping. One side is an orange color while the other one is purple. “This is our most tested product so far. When you eat the orange half of the candy you start to feel ill—nothing too bad, just enough to get you out of class—and then once you’re finally out, you take the purple half and you feel better again, ready to enjoy your free time. Brilliant, I know.”

“And you’re aware that this leaves a horrible example for younger generations, right?”

“Yeah, we hope so,” He rubs his palms together and it reminds me of a cheesy villainous moment. Then, he offers me the open candy in his hand. “Wanna try it out?”

I roll my eyes and push his hand away. “I can’t believe that you and your brother are throwing your talent away by making… these.”

“Wait, did I just hear a compliment in between all of that?” Fred leans close with a hand behind his ear, pretending to be bad at hearing.

My eyes roll for a second time because this boy just loves to make my eyes… nevermind. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should focus your attention on creating something more… useful?”

Fred pretends to look offended. “This is useful! Why spend so many hours in class when you can be using the time to do more important things, like playing games or sleeping?”

“Of course,” I say sarcastically. “It’s not like we need education or anything,” I then spot a bigger box, this one a bright pink color, and point to it. “What’s that?”

When he sees what I’m pointing at, he smirks at me. “Those are our WonderWitch products. They come in a variety; we have things like pimple vanishers to love potions.”

I quirk a brow. “Love potions?”

“The best love potions around,” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he leans against his desk. “Although I don’t think you really need one.”

I nearly gape at him. “What do you mean?”

Fred shrugs. “I think Malfoy may already have the hots for you. I see the way he looks at you.”

“Excuse me?!” In what world does Draco Malfoy like me? And in what world would I ever reciprocate those same feelings?

“I’m joking,” Fred chuckles at my mortified expression. “But I’m sure there are guys at the school who are head over heels for you.”

I scoff. “I doubt it.”

He stares down at me, and I swear we’re standing closer to each other than before. “I wouldn’t.”

I blink a few times. I want to say something back but I do not know what. What do you even say to that? Luckily, Mrs. Weasley’s voice coming from downstairs, announcing that dinner is ready, fills in the blank space and I take the opportunity to close the subject. “We should go.”

We exit the twins’ bedroom but before we can head down the stairs, I halt my steps. “Wait,” I point to the other door. “You never told me whose room that is.”

Fred turns to look at it. “Oh,” Something flashes across his expression and I’m unsure what it is. “No one’s. Come on, Mom’s waiting.”

He keeps walking and, although I find his reaction odd, I follow him without saying anything else.

***

I have never been close to my family. Due to our differing ideals, my parents and I always end every single conversation with an argument, so we try to speak to each other as little as possible. My brother is kind of walking along the same path, unfortunately, and although he’s a bit more tolerable, a lot of times it still feels like I’m talking to a wall. Dinner, specifically, has always been a horrible time, because I get to sit there and listen to them complain about muggle-borns, support the Ministry and its lies, praise my brother for following their footsteps, and criticize me for never wanting to be like them.

With the Weasleys, it feels completely different. It feels nice and comfortable, and the topic of blood status is not brought up once. Their dynamic feels so natural and like how a true family should be. Mrs. Weasley scolds her children every five minutes but you can tell that she loves them more than anything else. She also likes to insist on me grabbing more servings, and if my stomach was bottomless I’d probably eat every single thing on the table. Mr. Weasley is fascinated by my knowledge of the muggle world and how it functions, although It’s mostly just things I’ve learned from Muggle Studies. Contrary to what I’ve always thought of her, Ginny is pretty cool. She and I share similar tastes and her impressions are hilarious and spot on. Ron is a bit awkward and is mostly just eating and talking to Harry Potter, who happens to be staying over for spring break, but now and then he asks me a question if he’s interested enough in what I’m saying. The twins get in trouble several times, one of them being when they decided to sneak a fake spider into Ron’s plate, which made him nearly faint. And although I’ve been acting like a total bitch to him for so long, Fred makes sure that I don’t feel left out, often trying to include me in the conversation or playfully teasing me in a way. But I find that I don’t mind it; It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.

After we’re done with dinner, I am forced to decline Ginny’s offer to go flying for a bit because we still have to work on the potion, which I had almost forgotten about by the time Mrs. Weasley brought in dessert, but I tell her that we can try and get together another time to do so. Fred and I head directly back to his room so we can get it over with. I'm surprised to discover that Fred works really well as a team when he actually commits to it. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask him while I add and stir Powdered Moonstone into the cauldron.

He thinks about it but not for long. “Only if I can ask one back.”

Of course, there’s always a catch with him. “Okay, whatever,” I say defeatedly. “Whose room is the one across from yours?”

Fred sighs as his usual playful demeanor suddenly drops for a moment, but he tries to hide the fact that the question has any effect on him as he helps me slice Adder's Fork. “It’s Percy’s, my older brother,” He finally answers. “He kind of doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Did something happen?” I ask without thinking. And then I realize how nosy I sounded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, It’s none of my business—”

“No, I don’t mind,” He shakes his head. He’s being genuine. “You know about the whole thing happening with Harry and the Ministry of Magic, right?”

“About You-Know-Who coming back and the Ministry feeding lies to everyone because they’re cowards?”

Fred nods. “Pretty much. Well, Percy is siding with the Ministry because he's a git, and he and Dad had a very bad argument about it a few weeks ago. Then he just left and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh, wow,” I say with wide eyes. “That must’ve been hard for all of you.”

“Especially for mom. She’s cried every single day after he left.”

There’s a hint of sadness in his tone that I’ve never heard from him before and I can’t shake away the uncomfortable feeling I get from it. I guess I’ve never thought of Fred Weasley as someone who gets sad now and then, who maybe even cries when he’s upset, but at the end of the day, he’s still human just like me. “I’m so sorry.” I can’t help but say.

“You don’t have to be,” Fred says, giving me a reassuring smile. “But anyway, now It’s my turn,” His tone changes drastically back to its typical self. “Why didn’t you want me to visit your house? Because I saw how tense you got when I mentioned it.”

“Simple,” I slightly raise the heat on the cauldron after Fred drops the Adder’s Fork into the mixture. “My family is not very pleasant to be around with.”

“I guess I kind of figured. Are they…?”

“Blood supremacists? Yes,” I answer. “The worst kind possible. That’s why as soon as I graduate I want to find my own place and cut all ties with them immediately. They know I want to, and they don’t care, either.”

Fred remains silent for a moment while he adds the Jobberknoll Feathers. “I didn't know that.”

I shrug. “I guess I've grown used to it. I've had to put up with them my whole life, but I'm glad I'll soon have the chance to go my own way.”

“Another question,” He says, almost like he’s asking permission to do so, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Are your parents Death Eaters?”

The question stings, and I consider lying for a quick moment, but I slowly nod.

Fred’s eyes grow big. “Bloody hell.”

“Yup,” I say. It’s a conversation I don’t want to have with anyone but he would’ve found out eventually. It’s a shock he didn't know about it already. “That's why people tend to have a bad image of me once they find out. It's bad enough that I'm in Slytherin, people already think I'm a delinquent just by that alone. And that’s why I rather just not talk about my family.”

The room goes quiet for a second while I stir the potion clockwise. Then, Fred says, “Well, congrats. You’ve actually made me feel bad.”

“What for?”

“Before getting to know you better, I didn't like you for the mere fact that I thought you were an uptight Slytherin, just because you seemed to dislike mine and George’s pranks,” He explains.

I chuckle, reminiscing about the ongoing war between both of our Houses and all the times Fred and George managed to piss us off. “Hey, I don’t hold it against you. You’re not the only one. Besides, I didn’t like you either, so we’re even.”

Fred smirks. “Didn’t?”

“I guess you’re not… as bad as I thought,” I confess, avoiding his eyes.

“Huh,” He says. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

***

When I leave the Burrow, there’s a hollow feeling in my chest. As soon as I’m greeted by the cold presence of my parents back at the manor, I realize how long I’ve always longed for something like what I experienced tonight. In a single day the Weasleys made me feel like I'd been a part of their family forever, something my own family has yet to accomplish.

The Easter break goes by way too slowly, and for me that’s not necessarily a good thing. I spend a lot of alone time at the manor, although sometimes I meet up with Daphne, and on the second to last day, I go back to the Burrow one more time because there is still one important step to complete in the brewing process, which is to get the potion to absorb moonlight on the night of the full moon. But we manage to do it without trouble, although, by the time I'm back at the manor, there is something deep down still troubling me.

When we’re finally back at Hogwarts, Fred finds me to test out the potion the day before we have to show it in class, and we go all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. “Okay,” Fred says as soon as we are all settled in. “You got the good stuff?”

I grab my bag and take out the the vial of colorless liquid. It might as well be water, exactly as it should be. The two of us observe the Veritaserum with pride. I reach into the bag again and take out a glass dropper I’d borrowed from Daphne while he opens the vial. “So, who goes first?” Fred asks.

I purse my lips in thought. “What if we drink it at the same time and then we just take turns asking each other a question?”

“Nice. Rock paper scissors to see who gets to ask first?”

We tie for two rounds straight before he beats me with rock. I hand him the dropper and he squeezes some of the liquid into it. “Remember, three drops should be enough for it to work,” I remind him.

He nods. He passes the dropper back to me when he’s done and I take the three drops. There’s no smell and no taste, either, which is better than it being disgusting. I wait for something to happen, any indication that the serum has started taking effect, but I don’t feel any different. Fred seems to feel the same. “So… how do we know if It’s working?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Ask me a question, I guess.”

“Uhh… what’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Fred holds his hands up in defense and I sigh and answer anyway. “Yellow.”

He raises a brow, eyeing me carefully. “Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Okay, then maybe It’s working! Now you ask me something.”

I try to think of something else, something that a guy like him usually lies about. “Did you do your homework during Spring break?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What were you doing in the meantime?”

“George and I were busy perfecting some of our products,” Fred answers. I don’t even have to question if It’s true. “Speaking of, who do you think is the cuter twin?”

“You, of course,” I say, and then I cover my mouth, but It’s too late. That’s far from what I wanted to say but I guess the serum really is working now. Fred is grinning from ear to ear without a care in the world, and he’s clearly enjoying this. Before he can say anything, I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “What do you really think about me?”

He blinks at me, taken aback, but he answers without stuttering. “Well, at first, I thought you were just another annoying, hateful Slytherin—cute, but hateful. But then I realized that you're probably the coolest girl I've ever met.”

Fred looks like he just got out of a trance and he doesn’t remember anything about the last few seconds. I smile in satisfaction. He thinks he has an advantage on this little “game” but he seems to forget that we’re both in it. I can pull a secret from him just as easily. “Interesting,” I comment. “You didn't mention thinking I was cute earlier.”

“Are you trying to start something here?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I think you started it a long time ago.”

“Okay, then,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Do you regret kissing me that night?”

I try to stop myself from talking but It’s useless. Don’t answer him. “No. I don’t think I ever did.”

Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut up!

“I knew it,” Fred says, stepping closer. My back makes contact with the nearest wall but neither of us pulls away. “I knew that wasn’t for nothing.”

I ignore the way his eyes move down to my lips. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

“Yes. I still think about it to this day,” He confesses shamelessly. “If you don’t regret kissing me, does that mean that you have feelings for me?”

I have gotten to know more about Fred Weasley than I had ever imagined. I’ve been to his house, I’ve met his family, I’ve seen how he is outside of school… “I do,” I tell him, locking my gaze with his. “I like you.”

There’s a brief moment of silence in which the two of us just stare at each other, indulging in what I just said. Maybe I wasn’t thinking of confessing my feelings today but It’s out now. I could Obliviate him so he forgets any of this ever happened but I… I don’t want to. And I don’t think he wants either with the way he wraps an arm around my waist and connects his lips with mine.

With his free hand, Fred brings me as close to him as humanly possible and tangles it in my hair. This kiss feels so different than the first one; I was cold, wet, terrified, and not in a good state of mind when we kissed that night, and he was not expecting me to do that. But this time we’re both warm, needy, and desperate, and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of fighting him. I want him. “Good,” Fred pulls away, his voice breathless, and my heart jumps. “Because I like you, too.”

I grab him by the tie and kiss him again, and he responds right away. He holds me like I’m the most precious thing to him, like he needs me more than anything, and it makes me want him even more. I tug at his hair and he groans softly, coaxing his tongue with mine as soon as I have access. We get so caught up in each other that I begin to forget where we are; my vision and all of my senses are invaded by a tall ginger boy who just couldn’t leave me alone in the first place. And I’m so glad he didn’t.

I pull away and Fred moves to kiss my cheek and then my jawline. My heart flutters in the best way. “How long have you liked me?” I ask him while I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think I’ve been attracted to you for a long time but when you really had me in a chokehold was when you nearly succeeded in taking the Cup from us,” Fred says. There’s a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I was so impressed by you, and then when you kissed me…” He makes a gesture as if he’s been shot through the heart. I fail to hold back my laughter. “I’ve been hooked ever since.”

I bite my lip, playing with a strand of my hair. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Yes, actually, there is,” I initially expect a joke or a silly comment, but once again Fred Weasley manages to take me by surprise. “If you ever need a place to stay after you graduate, do not hesitate to tell me because I’m sure mom would love to have you staying over.”

My eyebrows raise and my eyes go wide. “What?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was just—you were talking about it the other day and I-I wanted you to have the option, you know, just in case…”

“Fred Weasley, are you messing with me?” I raise my fist, ready to hit his arm.

Fred grabs my wrist gently and lowers it out of sight. He’s still smiling down at me like he’s amused. “I swear that I will talk to my mom about it if you ever need me to. You can use Percy’s room or mine and George’s room if we move out.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone could ever do for me. I never thought anyone would; aside from Fred, Daphne is the only person who shows any concern over me. I know she would have no problem with me staying with her after graduation but I also know she’s leaving immediately after to live in Paris. My eyes well up with tears but I fight to keep them in. “That would be nice,” My voice is slightly shaky, but steady. “Thank you,”

A single tear escapes but Fred gently wipes it away. “You’re very welcome.”

He leans down to peck my lips. I grin in content. “Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Oh, you’re inviting me out to eat?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I hit his arm playfully. I fight back a smile.

We gather our things and head down to the Great Hall. Fred holds my hand the entire way. I must admit that it feels nice to not fight back my feelings and just enjoy my alone times with Fred, even if It's something as simple as moving from one place to another. When we're approaching the large doors, I feel Fred’s fingers abandoning mine. I look up at him and, once I see the look on his face, I realize why he does it: he thinks I don’t want to be seen with him. And, yes, maybe if Fred Weasley went to grab my hand a few weeks ago I would probably bite it off but if he doesn’t hold it now I will most definitely cry. When he’s about to turn his head, I reach to grab his hand, seeing and feeling him jump under my touch. He stares at our linked hands like he cannot believe what he’s seeing and—is that a blush tinting his cheeks? I crane my neck up and smile at him. After allowing myself to know him a little better, I’ve discovered that I love catching him off guard more than anything. It shows a whole different side of him, and It’s very attractive.

We open the giant doors to the Great Hall after Fred recovers and we walk in. A few heads turn in our direction; some of them don’t think anything interesting is going on so they go back to their plates, while others stare curiously. A few Gryffindors whisper while George and Lee Jordan smirk our way. The Slytherin table cannot help but be a bit more obvious, murmuring stuff to each other that I’m sure is nothing good and sneering at the both of us as Fred leans in close. “I think you’re getting banned from Slytherin, but don’t worry, I’m sure Gryffindor could take you in.”

I chuckle as I roll my eyes. “They’ll get over it. Anyway, I don’t care what they say. Talk to you later?”

“Of course,” Fred says.

I go to walk away but he grabs my chin and before I can ask him what he’s doing he leans down to plant a quick kiss on my lips. He walks away, leaving me standing there frozen for a moment, and before he reaches his spot on the Gryffindor table he turns his head and winks at me. That bastard, I think as I shake my head. He did that on purpose!

When I finally reach my table I feel the daggers that my housemates are throwing at me piercing through my skull, but I focus on the beaming girl sitting across from me. I sigh as I grab my empty plate and begin serving myself. “Go on. Say whatever you have to say.”

“I told you!” She bursts. “I told you there was something there, and I told you that he liked you, and I certainly knew that you were just acting stupid. You liked him, too! You stupid, stupid bitch—”

“No insults, please.”

“But you are a stupid bitch, are you or are you not?”

“I can't say I'm not.”

“Staining the name of Slytherin yet again, (L/N)?” Draco calls from the other side of the table. “You shouldn’t even be carrying your family’s last name. It’s too big of an honor for a blood traitor like you.”

A few Slytherin laugh in agreement. “Should she even be allowed to sit with us? I bet Weasley germs are spreading around our table already.” Pansy Parkinson grimaces.

“Well, the Parkinson germs have been spreading for years, haven’t they?” I snap back at her.

“Yeah, and no one’s said anything about it,” Daphne adds, shrugging innocently.

Pansy glares at the both of us but does not say anything else. When she turns back to her group, Daphne rolls her eyes. “The only con about all of this is that you have to put up with stuff like that.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “But I honestly don’t care.”

I turn to look at the Gryffindor table, and automatically my eyes find Fred’s figure. He’s already looking in my direction and when our eyes meet we smile. Okay, yes, I do like him. I like him a lot.

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