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retrievablememories · 8 months

Text

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 months

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Extrovert Meets Introvert - LN (Shy Series)

Prequel to "We're not Private, She's Just Shy."

Summary: Lando spots a young woman who is trying to hide herself away at a birthday party and he decides he needs to pursue her for attention.

Lando going to birthday parties isn't uncommon, it's one of his old school friend's birthday party. He tries to keep up with people from all areas of his life and it helps him keep relaxed.

"Where are you going?" Max asks as Lando crashes on the live stream.

"Birthday party. Just wanted to say hi before I leave." Lando states earning a nod from Max. "I'll see you later, mate. Bye everyone."

Lando takes off getting himself to the party venue which is a top floor with a balcony looking out on London. He's greeted by plenty of familiar faces before he gets himself to the bar for a drink.

"Hi, Lando. Haven't seen you around these parts for a long time." Victoria (Imma be making up names and people for the purpose of this), the birthday girl states while Lando turns to smile at her.

"Work does a pretty good job at keeping me-who is that?" Lando questions spotting a young woman over Victoria's shoulder making her turn with those siren eyes searching before she laughs lightly.

"That's my friend, y/n. I'd say I'll introduce you but she's really quiet and keeps to herself." Victoria explains before turning to look at her friend again who is acting a little unusual but Lando's standard. "Actually I'm almost certain she's trying to hide or find a quick exit."

"Does she not like parties?"

"More like she's terrified of people she doesn't know, super super shy. Most introverted but polite person I've ever met and probably will ever meet." Victoria sighs before turning to Lando again. "She's not exactly your type if I'm to be really honest. The two of you couldn't be more different."

"Don't opposites attract?" Lando shrugs then deciding that regardless of Victoria's warning, he takes hold of his drink, wishing her a happy birthday and to have a good night before he moves towards the young woman who has picked up some food and seated herself with another person that Lando also happens to know and feels comfortable to sit down and join them.

Lando sits down not hiding the way his eyes nearly remain exclusively on y/n, as he's now learned her to name to be. Though he has yet to hear her voice as Alyssa, a former fling of Lando's from his slightly younger years, had introduced her name while y/n has just progressively gotten more and more red in the face since he sat down.

"Alyssa, what the fuck are you doing? Get up and dance." Victoria demands shooting Lando a quick glance that tells him that this is her helping him. "Don't worry, y/n. I'm not going to make you get up and dance when you're this sober. We'll leave you in Lando's capable hands. He doesn't bite unless you ask nicely so don't panic about him either."

Lando mouths a thank you before the two of them are left in each other's company.

"So do I get to hear from you now?" Lando asks while she flushes an even deeper shade of red. "We could go out to the balcony?"

Hoping that being in a less public spot and slightly away from the music, Lando puffs out a breath of relief when she nods in agreement still looking like she is pretty much ready to run in the opposite direction. But Lando keeps her in front of him to avoid such an issue.

It takes a couple seconds but she builds up the courage to speak up not long after they step outside.

"I didn't think F1 drivers got to come out and party. Isn't drinking really bad for the diet?" Y/n asks suddenly proving she has some knowledge of the sport and of him.

"Feels a little unfair that you know stuff about me, but I don't know anything about you." Lando comments with a cheeky smile that she diverts her eyes from. "Aside from the fact you're very shy."

There's almost a pout on her lips over that comment but he doesn't think any feelings are actually hurt. She's just letting a bit more of her personality peak through.

"Would you let me have a dance with you?" Lando asks making her look like she's nearly about to cry. "Or I can help you get out of here and make a quick escape?"

"You wouldn't do that." Y/n laughs before swallowing. "You only just got here."

"And I think we should leave so I can take you on a date where you only get attention from me and no one else." Lando states while she swallows thickly clearly very much tempted. "I doubt Victoria will mind."

"I shouldn't."

"You should."

Y/n smiles while Lando grins at her, offering his hand to her watching her with careful eyes before she links her hand to his with almost fear in her eyes before he grips her hand with a python grip. Her face is flushed actions in a burning red before he begins to pull her through the venue to the lift where she looks around almost looking panicked while he guides her into the lift.

It's going against her gut instinct to stick to what she knows is safe and keep to herself. But there's a promise in Lando's eyes that makes her feel like she can trust him not to terrify her quite so much.

Turns out that Lando's version of getting pizzas and promising that it would just be the two of them. He somewhat kidnaps her, taking her all the way out of London back to his house that he has for when he's back in England.

It seems silly to say, and Lando isn't a believer of love at first sight, but getting to sit with her makes him feel some sort of connection with her. He's obsessed with her company and really he wants to spend more and more time with her.

"Be honest, would you go on another date with me?" Lando asks once they've finished the pizza.

"You do most of the talking and buy me pizza, I don't know what I can deny myself from." Y/n laughs before grinning at him brightly. "You're definitely good company."

Lando grins really discovering that he loves hearing her voice, maybe because he has done most of the talking and while she seems completely fine to listen to him talk. He leans forward pulling her forward towards himself.

"This is just the beginning then, I've got a lot more in my pocket." Lando smirks while she flushes before he closes the space between them again and kisses her. "You should come to the next race."

"No. No. That's too much." Y/n states immediately with a hot face that tells Lando he should've predicted that immediate reaction. "We've only just met."

"Just meeting is enough for me. You can come and you don't have to worry about anything, just be a guest of McLaren. No link to me. I promise." Lando tries making her sigh. "Please? You're a fan of the sport, you know that you'd have the best time. There's nothing that beats being in a race in person."

"Ok, that does sound really good." Y/n admits softly before she smiles a little nervously at him. "You promise no attention on me?"

"I promise. Absolutely no attention on you at all in the slightest." Lando nods then earning a smile that is about as excited as he was hoping for, but the shy element of her trying to hide her face is still very much present. "Admit it, you're glad you let me kidnap you."

"Is that what this was?"

"Will you stay tonight too?"

"Yeah...I'll stay. I like listening to you talk anyway." Y/n smiles while he grins kissing her again.

"You can stay with me and listen to me talk for hours."

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #norris #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #mclaren

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louloulemons-posts · 7 months

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Cuddle Bug

Eddie Munson X reader

Summary : Eddie isn’t very well and the only person who can make him feel better is reader.

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : not proofread, fluff, poorly eddie, eddie takes medication, touch starved eddie, eddie just loves reader so much.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Eddie had been dating for 3 months now and it had been great, you’d been friends for a while and then it somehow became more. It was so natural, easy, the pair of you had never felt this way.

However, Eddie wasn’t one to be overly affection, well physically that is. The boy was touch starved, and although Wayne loved his nephew, he was brought up seeing very little affection himself. So when Eddie ended up with him, he didn’t really know how to parent.

It was pats on the shoulder, ruffles of hair, awkward, but loving smiles. That showed in Eddie, when you first held his hand and kissed his cheek he freaked, he didn’t know if it was normal or not.

He ended up speaking to Nancy Wheeler about it, Steve would make fun, Robin didn’t date, Wheeler was different. She had told Eddie it was okay, telling him that Mike had trouble being physically affectionate due to seeing their fathers blatant lack of interest towards their mother and his own children.

It gave Eddie some comfort, making him relax when you showed gentle touches, when he also showed you. He loved touching you, even if it was the brushing of fingers as you walked side by side, Eddie loved it.

However, he didn’t expect to wake up one day and be craving your touch to the point he could cry. He had been quiet all morning, Wayne asking if he was alright, to which the boy had only grunted.

He was even more miserable going to school, knowing you wouldn’t be there until lunch, having to go for an appointment. He actually considered skipping, but Wayne shoved him out the door.

Eddie felt awful, sluggish, grouchy, he was just in an awful mood. “What’s that face?” Gareth asked, as the boy walked over, dropping his cigarette butt on the floor.

“What?”

“You look like your worlds ending.”

“I’m fine,” he said, snapping slightly. Sighing he spoke again, “Sorry, let’s just go to class.”

“Sure,” the younger boy nodded, worrying for his friend.

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet in class, not making any jokes, not tapping on the desk, he was resting his head on his arms. The lights were too bright, noise was amplified, his body ached, he needed you.

“You okay?” Gareth asked quietly.

“Hm?” The curly haired boy friend his face to his friend. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” he joked, head banging when he chuckled, making him wince.

“Maybe you should see the nurse.”

“I’m good man, don’t worry.” He knew that his friend thought he was lying, and he wasn’t wrong to think that. He felt horrible.

“Mr Munson, last time I checked my class was English, not nap time, focus please,” the teacher scolded. Eddie lifted his head, holding it in his hand, worried he couldn’t keep it up without.

This was gonna be a long day.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was indeed the longest day of Eddie Munson life, he had to drag himself to lunch. Barely able to sit in the cafeteria with all of the chatter, all of the Hellfire boys were concerned for their DM.

Sat massaging his temples he sighed, what was wrong with him? “Hey Eddie,” Dustin spoke. “What?” he said, voice quiet.

“Look,” the young boy spoke, motioning to the door.

There you were, making your way through the crowd of people, he could have burst in to tears then and there. Pushing up carefully he made his way over to you.

Engulfed by a hug, your eyes went wide, “Eddie?” you spoke softly, arms coming to wrap around him. “Missed you,” he said, nuzzling into your neck.

You were taken aback, Eddie wasn’t this affectionate in private, let alone public. “Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mm, just missed you. How was the appointment?” he pulled away, hands on your waist.

“It was fine,” you said simply, hand coming to touch his face, “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“Baby you’re sick.”

“No-“

“Eddie, don’t argue with me. We’re going home.”

“What? No, you only just got here, you’re gonna make me be all alone?” he whined.

“I said we, come on,” linking your fingers you went to the Hellfire lunch table, saying hi to the boys and picking up Eddies stuff.

“He’s not well, so I’m taking him home,” you explained. “I’m fine!” Shooting him a glare the boy quietened. “You’ve been ill all day man,” Gareth said.

“Why didn’t you go home?” you asked.

“I-I,” the boy stuttered, unable to give an answer, he knew what it was, but didn’t want to say in front of the guys.

“Come on let’s go.” You carried both yours and Eddies things, holding his hand also and led him out of the school. “Keys please,” you said.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re not driving like this, I’ll drive.”

“What about your car?”

“Dad dropped me off.” Eddie sighed, but complied, taking his keys out of his pocked and dropping them into your hand.

He climbed in the van slowly, instantly resting his head against the window. “What’s not feeling good?” you asked.

“Everything.”

“I think you’ve got the flu.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Baby,” you sighed, as you put the keys in.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be sick, I’m gonna take care of you. Now do you want to go to mine or to the trailer?”

“Can we go home?”

“Sure baby,” you said, brushing his curls gently before beginning the drive. The boys head rested against the cool window for the entirety of the drive, eyes closed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Baby we’re home.” Eyes fluttering open, you were back at the trailer, the boy winced once more at the light. “Come on, let’s get you in.”

Eddie moved slowly, his whole body sore, heavy. He felt like he would fall if he didn’t sit down soon. Your arm wrapped around his middle, helping him, you saw him sway on his feet.

Pushing open the door, you spoke to Eddie softly, “You go get into something comfy, I’m going to talk to Wayne.” He whined, trying to keep you close to him. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He huffed, slowly making his way to his room, hands on the wall the whole way to support him. “Eddie, what did I tell you about skipping- oh hello Honey,” Wayne Munson spoke, slightly confused with your presence.

“Is everything alright?” he questioned.

“Eddie has a fever so I brought him home, I was wondering if you’d mind me staying to look after him?”

“Our home is yours, you’re always welcome. I’ll find you some medication for him.”

Once you explained his headache, sensitivity to light and sluggishness, Wayne handed you some tablets and a glass of water. “This should help, keep his room dark too, and he’ll need to sweat out a fever.”

“Of course, thank you.”

“Thank you for looking after my boy,” he said, squeezing your shoulder, before nodding and walking back to the couch to continue what he was doing before.

Pushing open Eddies door with your hip, you frowned at the sight before you. Clothes were dropped on the floor, his pyjama draw open. Eddie himself was lay under his quilt, the top his his curls the only indication that it was him.

“Baby, I’ve got some things to make you feel better,” you spoke softly, not wanting to hurt his head. He groaned as he moved from under the blanket, the sunlight attacking his skin.

“Hang on, let me get the curtains,” you said, placing the pills and water next to him, quickly pulling them closed. They weren’t the best, but they did make the room a bearable light for the boy.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as you got on the bed next to him, he took the medication with ease, sipping the water. “Why did you go to school if you felt bad?” you asked, playing with his hair.

“Wanted to see you,” he said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Oh Eds,” you kissed his cheek. “Will you stay?”

“Of course I will, let me change.”

“Can we … um, can we,” he huffed, frustrated that he couldn’t get his words out. Sliding out of your jeans and top, you picked up Eddies hellfire shirt, allowing it to cover your skin.

You climbed under the covers next to him, “What baby?”

“Can we, if you want, could we cuddle?” Your heart melted at that, even though he was feeling horrible he still nervously twiddled his thumbs.

“Of course we can,” you smiled at him, shuffling down. He pulled you gently, so you could lay your head on his chest, “Your so warm,” he hummed.

Kissing his chest softly, you smiled up at him, snuggling into his hold. “I’m sorry we don’t do this much I just … it’s hard, but I really like being like this with you.”

“Eds-“

“I just don’t ever want you to think that I’m just with you for sex or just for the sake of having a partner. I love being close with you.”

“I love it too,” pressing another gentle kiss to skin, this time his chin. “You’re gonna get sick,” he said.

“That’s okay, you can look after me then.”

“That I can do, be ready for a solid week of cuddles.”

“Whatever will I do?” you laughed. The boy hummed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry you’re not very well.”

“It was worse when you weren’t there, I feel so much better now.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I love being with you. I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too.”

In sync your faces broke into smiles, before Eddie winced, his head still sore. “Rest baby,” you said softly, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

A/N : I kind of want to write another instalment of Margot, let me know if you’d be interested 🫶🏻

Please leave any requests 🤍

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weebsinstash · 11 days

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I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #alastor x reader #hh #sinprompts #god do you ever think about how people in hell feel miserable if their family is on heaven #you dont WANT your loved one to be suffering in hell but... if thwy were at least you could still see them #catch me crying out here piss drunk to alastor because my mom/granny are in heaven and he nods knowingly bc his mom isnt down there either

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 1 month

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Kinktober (reuploaded)

Pent up (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Small fight, horny Chris, besties to lovers (when is that not the case?), minimal crying, inexperienced Chris, handjob, embarrassment/humiliation if you squint, switch Chris & reader, cumshot, riding, minimal degradation, begging

Chris’ pov

I’ve only ever had sex once in my life, it was when I was 17 and it was pretty trash, not gonna lie. It’s been 3 years since then and it’s been up to me to get myself off, which had been fine until recently. Nothing I do is working, I’ve tried switching hands, grinding on my bed, fucking pillows, humping random things, using a vibrator, and I still can’t cum. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard though, sometimes I go all day with a half-hard dick. It’s gotten to the point where it’s uncomfortable and starting to hurt because basically, all I can do is edge myself. I haven’t been able to fucking cum for 6 weeks, I don’t do hookups or one-night stands either so I’m literally screwed. (or not screwed in this sense)

Now that our friend Y/n from back home has moved to LA as well, my usually half-hard dick has become fully hard. We’ve known her for about 8 years, so needless to say she’s our best friend but that doesn’t mean I don’t find her attractive. Sure, in middle and high school I wasn’t attracted to her like that, plus she was more so Nick’s friend until we turned 16 and he came-out. She’s recently gotten a bigger following on social media and had moved out to LA for better opportunities, it was also obviously a plus that she’d get to see us more.

If I’m being honest, ever since Covid, Y/n has really had a glow up, we all have. However, I wasn’t used to seeing her all the time, except for on FaceTime, but her attractiveness never really affected me then. Now with Y/n coming over all the time, it was hard not to be affected by her attractiveness. It’s even harder when she wears short shorts/skirts, crop tops, or tank tops, and especially when she’s braless. I’d never say or do anything though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, what am I supposed to say? “Oh by the way, you make me hard when you wear clothes like that, could you please stop?” there’s absolutely no way I’d do that.

I’ve been doing my best to avoid Y/n for the past month and I think she’s starting to catch on, she probably thinks I’m mad at her. I catch her giving me hurt and confused looks all the time and Matt says I hurt her feelings by pushing her away for no reason. Except there was a reason, but nobody knew that and nobody was going to find out. At least that was the plan until today as Y/n came over yet again. She walked through the door as usual, saying hi to Matt and Nick before they left for some reason. I was extremely confused because we didn’t have any plans and they didn’t mention that they were going somewhere.

Y/n came over to the couch and sat next to me, I just stayed on my phone until she took it out of my hand. She set it down on the coffee table before wrapping both her arms around my left one. Y/n put her head on my shoulder and sadly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry.” that made me feel like shit. I sighed and removed my arm from her hold to give her an actual hug. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m sorry.” I sighed again as I heard her sniffle. She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso and I heard her sniffing a second time.

“Please don’t cry Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just going through something with myself and it’s difficult being around you” I really should’ve worded that better because Y/n immediately pulled away. She was now understandably defensive and upset “What’s that supposed to mean!? You don’t like being around me!? I literally paid Matt and Nick to stay the night at my house so I could talk to you privately and now you don’t even want to be around me!?” she yelled at me. She got off the couch and started walking towards the door crying.

I felt like an asshole so I immediately went after her, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling away and wiping away her tears. “God, you’re gonna fucking hate me after I say this.” I said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s difficult to be around you because you turn me on and make me extremely hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just my body being stupid. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I haven’t been able to cum in like 6 weeks, I get painfully hard and can basically only edge myself. You know I don’t do hookups so I can only rely on myself and it’s just not working. I’m sorry.” I told her truthfully.

Y/n started laughing, like full on hysterically laughing. I stood there, not finding what I just funny but still cracked a smile at her laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a jackass!” she joked, making me a little bit confused. “You could’ve just said that and I would’ve given you a handjob weeks ago!” she said between laughs. I didn’t know what to say back so I just stood there staring at her in shock. “Bullshit, I’ve been trying to hide the fact that you’ve been making me hard for weeks just for you to say you’d give me a handjob!? That’s fucking crazy!” I laughed while shaking my head.

Y/n’s pov

I can’t believe all the confusion and hurt going on, on my end was all because I turn Chris on. Yeah no shit he’s one of my best friends, but he’s also obviously very active and I’d honestly give him a handjob just for fun. I love the thought of making someone cum with just my hand, I’m obviously a bit more experienced than Chris since I had a boyfriend for 2 years and we had sex but it didn’t bother me. I like knowing I’ll be the only person to have given him a handjob and the second to touch him intimately like that.

After Chris said this was all crazy, I turned to walk back into the living room when he grabbed my wrist, turning me around. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a cocky tone, “To sit down, what are you doing?” I said back. “I believe you owe me a handjob. Can’t believe you came over to talk to me in such a slutty little outfit and expected me to not get hard” Chris said with a smirk as his hands went to my waist. He pulled me against him so I could feel his half-hard cock and he’s fucking huge.

I decided to mess with him a bit and pull away, doing a little spin before saying, “You don’t like my outfit? Is it because I look bad?” I fake pouted. Chris grabbed my hips once again but his hands almost immediately went down to my ass. “I love it, I just don’t want others seeing what’s mine.” he said lowly, “Possessive.” I teased him, poking his chest. “Is that a problem?” he asked, “Not at all.” I replied. “Good. Now about that handjob offer-“ he started before I cut him off, “ Yes, I’ll give you a handjob now c’mon.” I laughed at his neediness.

We got to his room and I sat on his bed, taking my shoes off while he took off his shirt and laid down, propped by pillows. “Wait! Y-You know um…” he trailed off so I spoke up instead. “Know that you’ve only ever been touched and seen naked once? Yes, I’m aware.” “Oh, um okay, yeah that’s what I was gonna say. I was also going to ask if we could like makeout first? You know, to make me less nervous…” Chris blushed cutely. “Anything you want, tonight is all about your pleasure.” I smiled at him before moving my lips to meet his. Right before our lips we’re about to meet Chris mumbled, “Want you on my lap” pulling my waist so I was now sitting on his lap.

I once again leaned down to attach our lips, my left hand was on his chest while my right cupped his jaw. The kiss was a little slow at first and I could feel that Chris was still half-hard, slowly getting fully hard when he deepened the kiss. I wasn’t expecting him to run his tongue across my bottom lip or squeeze my ass so he could gain access to my mouth, but I was glad he did. The kiss started to get hot and I loved the way Chris whimpered a bit before pulling away. “Want you to touch my cock.” he panted with a smirk. Chris took off his pants before asking me to take off my skirt, which I did, “Goddamn baby, you’ve got such a nice ass.” he said before slapping my ass, making me laugh.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy” I winked at him before placing another kiss to his lips, sliding my hand over his hard-on. I pulled away and saw a bit of fear flash through his eyes, “Chris, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” I asked softly, removing my hand from him. “No, I want you to keep going. I just- this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward after, right?” he asked nervously. I brought my hand up to stroke his cheek, “I promise this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward. I just wanna help you, plus it’s fun and enjoyable for me too.” I smiled. Chris smiled back, “Okay good. Please continue.” he said while blushing.

“Do you have lube and can I take off your boxers?” “Yes and yes” he replied, leaning over to grab the lube from his dresser next to his bed. He handed it to me before pulling down his boxers and blushing. “Holy fuck Chris! You’re fucking huge!” I said shocked because he’s a lot bigger than I expected. “Mmm shut up.” he whined back embarrassed, gasping loudly when I started slowly jerking him off. I looked at his face as it twisted with pleasure, I started to move my hand a bit faster as he looked at me, causing him to close his eyes and bite his lip to prevent any moans from falling past them. His face turned a bright pink, making me smile as I moved my other hand to his face, pulling his lip away from his teeth with my thumb.

“C’mon Chris, let me hear those pretty moans. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” I softly ordered him. His hands were by his sides, balled up in fists as he gripped onto the sheets below him. He let a small whine when he opened his eyes and saw mine looking back at them. “Does that feel good?” I asked seductively, “G-Go faster.” he said, “Can you use your manners for me?” I teased. Chris gave me a pleading look, not wanting to beg but that quickly changed when I stilled my movements. “No, don’t stop! P-Pease go faster!” he groaned, immediately avoiding eye contact with me. I lightly gripped his jaw as I started moving my hand again, I turned his head to face me before saying, “So good with your words.” I smiled before slowly making out with him.

Chris pulled away to let out a particularly loud moan as I felt some precum leak out of his tip. I decided if I wanted to go faster, I’d need to use the lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. I sped up my movements, making Chris’ whines and moans get louder. “Talk to me.” “What?” “Dirty talk to me, tell me I’m being good. I don’t know just talk to me, I’m getting close.” he said. “Awe that’s cute, I haven’t even been jerking you off for 10 minutes and you’re already gonna cum.” I teased thinking he’d get mad at me but instead let out a loud whimper. “You like when I do that?” I asked when I started moving faster, Chris just whined and nodded his head erratically, feeling slightly humiliated.

I dug my thumb into his slit, collecting precum before using my other hand to play with his balls. My fist would tighten every time I went up towards the head, making Chris whimper and whine. I was so focused on pleasuring him that I jumped when I felt his hands come up towards my boobs, “Sorry, I ju-“ he started being I cut him off. “It’s okay I just wasn’t expecting you to touch me, go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do. You’re being such a good boy.” I added the last sentence experimentally to see if he’d like it, and to my surprise, he let out a loud, whiny moan. He moved my tank top straps down and lowered it so my boobs were now visible. Chris looked from my boobs up to my face, getting embarrassed when he found me already looking at him.

“Fuck Y/n/n don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna make me cum.” he whined. I decided to move positions and go in between his legs so I could get a better angle, Chris’ eyes blew out with lust at that. He became a whining, whimpering mess, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit ‘m gonna cum!” he loudly moaned out. I started moving my hand as fast as I could, trying to keep his hips still at the same time. Chris’ left hand came down to tightly hold onto my right wrist as the pleasure was overwhelming due to him edging himself for so long. I saw his stomach flex and thighs start to shake a bit, signaling he was about to cum. Not wanting to make a big mess, I moved his cock so it was up against his stomach, that way he wouldn’t cum all over his sheets.

“Fuck Y/n! Oh shit- yes I’m cumming!” he groaned out loudly, “Be a good boy and cum for me.” I replied seductively. Chris let out something that was a mix between a whine and a growl, which sounded so fucking hot. Within a couple of seconds, thick strings of white cum started to paint his body as I jerked him through his orgasm. I watched in awe as this was the biggest cumshot I’ve ever seen, some cum even made it all the way up to his face. That was fucking hot, I helped him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, during which he let out multiple whimpers and whines. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize Chris’ cock had now turned soft, “S-Stop too much, ‘m sensitive!” he moaned, causing me to finally let go of his cock.

Chris was breathing heavily but he looked so fucking good covered in his own cum like this. “Chris, are you okay?” I asked gently, with his eyes closed all he could do was whimper out a response that would turn me on even more. “P-Picture! Take a picture of me covered in my cum!” I was a bit shocked but nonetheless, I got up to grab my phone. I wasn’t even turned around for a more than a minute, but by the time I got back to the bed with my phone, he was already hard again. I took a few pictures before telling him to open his eyes, Chris looked at me with an extremely fucked out expression and a dopey smile as I took the last picture.

Even though Chris was basically fucked dumb at this point, he still somehow managed to take control of the situation. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me closer to him, causing me to let out a surprised whine. “Clean my cum up with your tongue and ride me. Like you said earlier, tonight is all about my pleasure, meaning you’re gonna be the slut who does all the work.” he stated in an authoritative tone. I replied with a quick, “Yes sir.” before I started licking up his cum from his stomach all the way up to his face. He actually tasted really good, once he was clean of his cum, he sat up against the headboard.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, he said “Take it off.” before watching me pull it over my head. I was honestly a bit surprised at how much of a power bottom Chris was being right now, considering this is only his second time having sex. He pulled me onto his lap before smashing our lips together, biting mine as he pulled back to toy with the side of my panties. “Take these off before I fucking rip them off.” he growled, I immediately took them off and sat back on his lap. “Can I please just fuck myself on your cock now?” I whined, “Well you’re the one who’s gonna do all the work so go ahead. Condoms are i-“ he said cockily before I cut him off. “We don’t need one of those unless you want it.” I told him before kissing his neck, “Goddamn, no condom then.” he grunted.

I slowly sunk down onto his massive cock, “Jesus Christ! You’re so fucking tight!” he moaned out while his voice cracked. “Mhm you’re so big Chris!” I whimpered as I started bouncing on his dick. Chris helped me move by griping onto my ass while I started sucking hickies into his neck. “Baby you can’t leave marks, Matt and Nick can’t know.” he panted out, making me loudly whine. I didn’t stop though, I really didn’t care about his brothers finding out. However, I did stop when he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, “I told you to fucking stop!” he growled in my ear. I started moving a bit faster as he started sucking hickies into my chest, “Just wanted to mark you up!” I whined.

“Why? You tryna claim me as your own or something? Can’t stand the idea of other girls looking at me?” he teased me. Suddenly I turned into the whiny one, blabbing out incoherent sentences without thinking. “Don’t want others looking at you. Only me, you’re mine- please Chris! Want you!” I cried out as the pleasure started to become too much. “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking at me with his eyes full of lust, “Just want you!” I said frustrated. Chris started thrusting up into me, “Yeah, you want me baby? You got me, I’m yours princess, kiss me.” he said softly in my ear. I moved my hands to wrap around his neck and thread through his hair as our lips met in a feverish kiss.

Chris helped me move faster as he thrusted up into me as well before he moved one hand from my waist to rub my clit. He moved his kisses down my neck, sweetly sucking more hickies into the skin. “Feel so good around my cock princess.” he mumbled, “Shit, Chris I’m gonna cum!” I cried out. With that Chris flipped us over and started drilling into me, looking down at me with a smirk. “Cum on my cock babe, cum so I can fill you up with mine.” he groaned, I pulled him down for another kiss, moaning into it. He was fucking into me at a fairly fast pace while rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles. I tightened around him as I started to cum, moaning loudly. Chris’ thrusts grew sloppy and before I knew it, he was loudly groaning and filling me up with his cum.

He fucked into me for a couple more seconds then pulled out, laying down next to me. As I came down from my high, a wave of emotions hit me and I suddenly got nervous. “Chris…” I said barely above a whisper, he just pulled me into his side, laying my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up over us, “Shhh, it’s okay, I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise this doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Just go to sleep princess, everything’s gonna be okay.” he said in a soothing voice, calming my nerves. “Okay, goodnight Chris.” I said softly, “Goodnight pretty girl.” he replied back, protectively wrapping his arms around me.

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moonlinos · 3 months

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Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh.

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

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newtkive · 3 months

Text

shift shenanigans - s1 social media au

note: jus for fun ! may or may not do more parts.

warnings: crude humor, slightly offensive jokes from richie sry

part two

liked by syd_adamu, marcus.brooks11 and 30 others

chefboyardee: my friends! i love my friends! the two on the right more than the left (i’m joking i promise) 😁😁😁😁

see all 8 comments

syd_adamu: brave of you to call him your friend y/n

↳ chefboyardee: boss man carmy save me

↳ syd_adamu: oh.. :///

marcus.brooks11: you did me so dirty, friend.

↳ chefboyardee: love you marcus you look spectacular

↳ marcus.brooks11: don’t start

richietheking: Where am I?

↳ chefboyardee: ya motha

liked by syd_adamu, chefboyardee and 10 others

richietheking: Getting sh$!t done.

see all 8 comments

marcus.brooks11: This is coolllddd.

↳ richietheking: You already know it man.

syd_adamu: this is actually crazy

carmyberzatto: can you show this on instagram? i think you should delete this.

↳ richietheking: Delete your life.

chefboyardee: come down to the beef for a number 6 the occy way 💯 the safest joint on the block 🤑💯we are 🔛🔝

↳ richietheking: Eyyy I know that’s right.

↳ carmyberzatto: please don’t advertise this.

WE HAVE THE BEEF 🥩

[ 8:25 am ]

y/n:

bruh im about to lose it. heads up when you guys get to work.

marcus: that catering order is about to be crazy

DO NOT REPLY: These white boards are stressing me out.

syd: we know, probably giving you ptsd from not finishing high school

DO NOT REPLY: Fuck you I did finish it.

y/n: oh i gotta change ur contact name richie

richie poo: ????? What

y/n: it was ‘DO NOT REPLY’ lols

marcus: valid

syd: real

richie poo: What? Why?! That’s so rude

y/n: cuz you piss me off

and you kept blowing up my phone yesterday

richie poo: You weren’t answering, and we needed help at the cook out.

syd: the one where you poisoned everyone?

richie poo: Fuck off.

y/n: when i’m off work, i’m off work.

marcus: don’t let carmy hear that, y/n

y/n: don’t remind me

syd: he’s trying at least, go easy on him. he really has great ideas

richie poo: You mean you have great ideas in that little notebook

tina: Never trust a broad with a notebook.

syd: hey! i’m just being helpful

y/n: do you guys think my ig post will hurt carmys feelings

marcus: it would make me a little sad if i were him, but i don’t think he cares

y/n: great i’m gonna cry now

syd: i doubt he even saw it y/n it’s fine

richie poo: Check the work chat. Cousin is in a mood.

y/n: oh great

tina: Help us all.

syd: be nice you guys

WORK

[ 9:15 am ]

carmy: Everyone, we have huge catering orders tomorrow to prep for today. Please get here as soon as you can, the earlier you clock in the better. Additionally, please be careful what you post on social media. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression

y/n: yes chef 👨‍🍳

syd: ok sounds good

richie poo: Cool it, Cousin. What’s the issue with the social media

tina: I use FaceBook. That not allowed now??

carmy: Tina, you’re fine. I’m talking about those who post work things on public accounts

marcus: facebook is crazy

richie poo: I can’t go private

y/n: he needs the likes

richie poo: No I’m disabled from doing so. Not sure why

y/n: liar

richie poo: 😑I don’t like you

carmy: Then please don’t post pics of yourself posting up with a gun and an air horn outside of my shop anymore.

marcus: that pic was fire can’t lie

carmy: Well, it’s bad for business.

richie poo: Fine, whatever

y/n: carmy

carmy: What, Y/n?

y/n: is this because of my caption on my post i’m sorry i promise i wasn’t being for real

carmy: I don’t care Y/n.

y/n: is that code for ‘i care a lot and i’m crying in the office right now and that’s why the door is closed’

syd: ? why the oh

y/n: he opened the door and yelled no 🤨 but i think i saw red eyes

carmy: Please get back to work and I’ll comp a meal for you later

y/n: OMG yes chef 😍

richie poo: Inappropriate emojis and you shouldn’t have to incentivize her to work

y/n: shut up acting like HR i’m gonna beat your ass

jealousy is ugly which is why you have that mug on your face

carmy: Stop

y/n: yes chef 👨‍🍳

i heard your giggle tho

richie poo: Again with the schizo episode

syd: you can’t say that richie

richie poo: Oh sorry

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anadiasmount · 3 months

Text

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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siddhigirls · 9 months

Text

your favourite girl

pairing: cillian!teacher x afab!reader

preface: mr murphy was your english teacher and he loved you, a little too much, but you were a little trouble maker

warnings: age gap, teacher x student relationship, light smut:)

mr. murphys class was your least favourite. you hated it because all he did was just pick on you the entire class, its like he actually did hate you. and not only that his class makes you want to fall asleep. all he did was read some books in those stupid glasses he wears. you walked into last period immediately having no patience for his cheeky attitude, he sat at his desk with his blue button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up showing his slightly veined arms, his hair in a certain way that shows off his jawline, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you. “alright pull out your books, today you guys should start your essays, but before you start i’ll explain the assignment once again for some of you guys who weren’t there” looking directly at you, you scoffed already having no patience today.

he explained the assignment but all you did was just play on your phone, mr murphy forced you to sit in the front for some reason but it really got on your nerves. you barely heard any of the instructions but it won’t matter cause you’ll ask one of your classmates. “y/n pay attention.” he says in a bossy tone, you rolled your eyes and continued scrolling on instagram, “okay detention after school till 4:30. and we will have a long talk about your attitude” he said walking up taking your phone away from your hands. “give it back. and i won’t stay im busy after school” everyone’s now looking at both of you guys arguing, your blood is boiling but you couldn’t do anything about it. “too bad you’ll miss out on your plans, you’re wasting my time now im wasting yours.” he said and then continuing on whatever he was saying. minutes pass by and the class is silent, you’re doing your work not even looking at him. while the class was working mr murphy was looking through your phone, curious to your private life. he was looking at your texts and came across you and your boyfriends texts.

he was snooping okay, he was looking at the texts between you guys which made him a bit jealous. he scrolled until he saw the texts between you guys last night, he came across to a rather scandalous photo of you, you in a bra and panties, he scrolled up a little more to see a thumbnail video of you taking off your underwear showing off your throbbing wet clit. he immediately turned off your phone feeling guilty of what he just did, but god did it turn him on. he hated the thought of you wanting to fuck another man though, you were his and only his.

class came to an end and you went to mr murphys desk to take your phone back. “can i have my phone back mr murphy” you pleaded, all you wanted to do is just go home and relieve yourself. “no y/n. sit, let’s talk.” he said sternly, but when he looked up at you all he saw was your cleavage in his face which caught him off guard. you sat down in a chair right in front of the white board, he shut the door as he laid back on the board in your sight. “so y/n what’s with the attitude today? i want us to have a good student teacher relationship, believe it or not i actually like you” a little too much he thought to himself, you let out an airy laugh, “you don’t like me.”

your response caught him aback. “why do you think that” he said getting closer to you, now looking down at you. “you always just pick—“ you paused looking up at his piercing blue eyes, his dick was right in front of your face, you’ve never looked at him like this before, fuck he looks so good.

“are you gonna finish the sentence?” he said, slowly getting closer to your face, the tension was so thick. full of hatred and anger, with a thick sexual tension as well. “you just always…” you said getting up getting in his face. now you’re looking up at him, your heart pounding, your pussy quickly getting wet.

“we shouldn’t do this mr. murphy.” you said yet you put your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist tugging and hugging it. “but i can’t stop thinking about you..” you admitted getting closer to his face, feeling his icy breath on your lips. your lips lightly touching each other. his hands travelling down your short skirt and sitting you on the desk. “you say the word baby i’ll do whatever you want me to do” he says kissing your neck, “we can’t tell anyone about this my boyfriend will kill me” you said looking into his beautiful eyes and down to his full lips. “and i’ll get fired but fuck you’re just so beautiful. i can’t stop thinking about you riding me. you’re all i think about. i’ll prove to you how little your lame boyfriend will mean to you after this.” he says rubbing his big hands on your thigh. you leaned in closing the gap between you guys immediately swapping saliva, he pulls you closer to his body and you feel how hard he is which turns you on a lot more.

“fuck me mr murphy”

that’s all you had to say. he ripped your black leggings for more access. aggressively kissing your lips and your neck, “we can’t be loud now. don’t fucking make a noise” he said lowly in your ear. let’s just say you guys had a really good time.

!a/n!

if you guys want more comment or privately message me!!

#cillian murphy #oppenheimer #cillian murphy smut #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #oppenheimer cillian #cillian smut #cillian fic #cillian murphy is hot

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slutforitoshi · 11 months

Text

mikage reo - star student *:･ﾟ✧

ft. reo x f!reader, 18+ minors dni

cw: CORRUPTION KINK, virgin!mc, praise, oral m!receiving and f!receiving, fingering

synopsis: your dear upperclassman teaches you a few new tricks

wc: 1.85k

A/N: confession i was a reo anti until i read the manga LOL

mikage reo is the poster boy for model upperclassman. smart, athletic, and breathtakingly handsome. unlike other seniors he didn’t seem to view the younger years with distaste. after all, he was one of them just a few semesters ago. his generosity knew no bounds, from comped meals to private tutoring lessons. and you happened to be one of those pupils; a sprout eager to learn from the best.

initially you sought out reo’s help since you happened to hear that he was the first in your school’s history to ace all the physics exams, a subject you were dreadful at. you expected the relationship to be cordial, professional even, but reo’s welcoming disposition made it hard to stay away.

before you knew it he was assisting you with much more than physics, guiding you even in your personal life. that’s why it didn’t even occur to you as strange to blurt out, “i think i’m finally going to lose my virginity this weekend”

reo’s pencil that was currently scribbling away at his planner grinds to a halt, leaving only the slight hum of your ceiling fan to break the silence.

shit. you’ve made things awkward.

“oh my god i’m so sorry i don’t know why i said that,” you apologize immediately, realizing the vulgarity of your words. reo was your senior, and while he has helped you with relationship problems before, you should’ve known this was a leap further than that.

reo turns to you with a light smile though, relieving the regret you felt in your stomach.

“what’s there to be sorry about? i’m glad you trust me to talk about it” he reassures you, in classic reo fashion.

“are you sure? i don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” your voice trails off, but reo’s eyes don’t waver. his dear underclassman has a concern, and who else but him to help?

“well…ok. i’ve just been feeling left behind recently in that whole category. all my friends keep talking about their recent hookups, and it’s lame that i haven’t done anything past kissing”

reo’s eyebrows furrow in concern, “don’t tell me you want to have sex because of peer pressure.”

“no no it’s nothing like that” you quickly shut down his unease, “i just feel like i’m ready for it. i want to join my friends.”

he slowly nods his head, taking in your true thoughts.

“so how are you gonna do it? are you seeing anyone?”

“nah i was just gonna go to a party and find some semi-cute guy” you shrugged, and it’s clear by his expression that this was the worst idea he’s ever heard.

“you’re gonna settle for some random guy at a party, who will probably be mediocre at best in bed?” he spat, eyes narrowing at the prospect.

you’ve never seen reo like this, almost bitter at your proposed idea.

“i don’t see any other good options” you murmured. there probably were, but those other options included waiting, and you’ve had enough of that.

reo presses his fingertips to his temples, closing his eyes for a moment.

“you think physics is the only thing i can help you with?”

he opens his eyes, turning towards you with such a piercing stare that it sends shivers down your spine.

“n-no, of course not. you’ve helped me with loads of things before like math, biology-” you ramble, trying to ignore the quickening pace of your heartbeat. sure you were a virgin, but you weren’t naive.

“i won’t force you. i’m just expanding your options” his eyes don’t leave you, and as much as you want to hide from his directness, you can’t seem to look away. as much as you wanted to run away, to say no, the growing heat in your abdomen has already made the decision for you.

“p-please reo, i’m all yours”

“that’s my good girl.”

he places his right hand at the nape of your neck, then pulling you into his lips. gentle, you noted. his kisses showed no sign of aggression or neediness like you’ve experienced from the select few boys you’ve made out with before, but that’s not to say it wasn’t passionate.

you break the kiss first, leaving your chair to kneel down before his.

“can i?” you ask, looking intently at the bulge peaking through reo’s pants.

“eager aren’t we” he smirks, pulling down his waistband to reveal your first cock. and it’s impressive. your eyes widen at the length before you, mouth watering. you look up eagerly, lunging forward to envelop the head around your lips as reo gives an encouraging nod.

“f-fuckk” he gasps, taking in the warmth of your mouth. it’s heavenly.

you push your limits, inch by inch, until you feel him hit the back of your throat, and the sensation launches you off suddenly.

“you alright?” reo sits forward, caressing your back as you cough through the result of your eagerness. you nod though, pushing him back into the chair.

“wanna try again” you murmur, eyes fixated on your conquest. you wrap your lips around him again, taking note of the ache the girth inflicts on your jaw. it’s not an unpleasant feeling, and the view of reo’s eyes rolled back makes it all worth it.

this time you don’t recoil from the hit, and start your trek up, then down, then up.

“focus on the tip, it’s sensitive there” he instructs, and you oblige, intensifying the bobbing motion near his ridge.

“circle your tongue around it” reo barely finishes his thought before you’re complying to his demands.

reo’s fingers are digging into chair’s arms, leaving crescent shaped imprints. he couldn’t tell what was more pleasurable: the feeling of your tongue against his tip, or how fucking obedient you were.

“such a good girl for me, learning so fast”

you hum in content at his praise, sending vibrations that nearly push reo to the edge. that’s enough he thinks, it’s time for the next lesson.

he sits up suddenly, and his cock leaves you with a ‘pop’. you try to object at the sudden emptiness, but he’s already pulling you up, guiding you to the bed.

“sit back for me, and keep your legs spread” he instructs, tying his purple strands back to keep away from the mess that will surely follow.

you do as he says, revealing the growing damp spot on the panties underneath your skirt. he dives in, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull you forward abruptly until his face is hovered above your heat.

“r-reo-” your eyes widen at the sudden movement, but your voice morphs into a moan as he licks a long stripe above the cloth.

“let me show you what you deserve” he peels off the drenched panties off your legs, marveling at your glistening folds.

he makes haste, lunging forward to bury himself between your thighs. the sensation of the soft muscle of his tongue immediately makes you buck your hips forward.

“f-fuck!” you splutter out, mind blanking as he circles your clit. he had you wondering why on earth you waited so long. strands of purple leaked through your knuckles as you held his head in place.

a familiar coil builds, one that you’ve only felt through from your own efforts before.

“you’re close aren’t you?” he smirks briefly before diving in again to chase after your high.

stars dance across your half closed lids once he adds a finger into your entrance. it’s a stretch you’ve never felt before, but the feeling was more than welcome. then the addition of a second finger has your head falling back against the backboard.

“your virgin pussy’s so tight” he remarks, noticing how cramped the hole was with only two digits in. his vulgar words brought a blush to your face; who knew the mikage reo could talk so dirty?

the curling of his fingers is what brings you over the edge, until you’re thrashing against the sheets while reo uses his free arm to hold your hips down.

“how was that for your first orgasm?”

“so…so good” you manage through your pants. it left you breathless, but he wasn’t finished with you yet.

reo briefly gets up to roll a condom on while you recover. shit, it’s happening. you were about to kiss your virginity goodbye.

“i’m gonna go nice and slow okay?” he says, positioning himself above you. a light kiss is placed on your forehead before you feel the tip nudge at your entrance. and then he pushes.

your eyes squeeze shut at the intrusion, nails raking at reo’s back to offset the pain.

“deep breaths, it’s almost all the way in” he whispers, trying not to cum himself from the absolute bliss that your pussy gives him.

you both let out a sigh as he bottoms out, and he stills himself, waiting for confirmation to move.

“please reo” you whine, “make me feel good”

his eyes darken at your pleads, and a flash of possessiveness passes his mind. you were so fragile, and yet here you were begging him to ruin you.

he builds his pace gradually, knowing the stretch must still cause you discomfort. but by the third thrust, your loud moans were a clear indicator of the pleasure wracking your body.

“r-reo, feels amazing”

he responds to your praise with a firm grip on your waist, pulling you in deeper against him, “yeah? don’t you ever settle for anything less than this”

you almost yelp as he scoops one arm around your back to flip you. you’re on your knees now as he’s laid back against the mattress, still buried completely within you.

“want to learn how to ride?” he suggests, lip twitching upwards in a suggestive smile. the challenge was daunting, but a star student like you wouldn’t back down.

you place your palms against his taut chest, shakily raising yourself up before crashing back down.

“fuck, you’re a natural” he groans as you sink down again.

the new position has his tip kissing your cervix, and it’s not long before your thighs are giving out.

“looks like you need some help” he teases before his hands are supporting your hips, guiding you up and down his length. by the way your walls were fluttering, he could tell you were reaching another high. reo decides to add even more assistance by taking a free hand towards your clit, rubbing circles onto the sensitive bud.

your body goes slack at the sudden onset of pleasure, but reo has no problem making up for your efforts to ride, still thrusting upwards at impressive speeds.

“c-cumming again!” you exclaim again before clamping hard against his cock. your pulsating walls are enough for him to unload as well, thrusting erratically to maximize both your orgasms.

you collapse against his chest, limbs completely drained of energy. he laughs lightly at the state he left you in before wrapping his arms around your back and laying another kiss to the side of your temples.

“reo how am i supposed to fuck anyone else after this” you whine, “you set the bar too high”

“who said we were done? you still have much more to learn”

#holy shit i finally finished it #posting twice in one day crazy ik #reo #reo mikage #reo x reader #reo smut #reo mikage smut #blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk smut #blue lock imagines #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage imagines

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

Text

inspired by this post by @ruelogy

ao3

Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.

Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.

Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."

Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.

Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.

"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."

"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."

"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.

Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.

"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.

And swoon. That sounds like a dream.

"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.

"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."

He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.

“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.

“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

“What was under your bed?” Will asks.

“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”

“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.

Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”

Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”

“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”

Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”

Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”

Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”

He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.

“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”

"You didn't see it."

"Maybe it was a prank?"

Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"

"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."

He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.

Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.

Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.

That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.

“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.

“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”

“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”

“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.

He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”

“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.

“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”

The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."

He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."

Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.

The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.

“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”

“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.

“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”

Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?

“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.

“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.

“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.

"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"

"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.

"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."

Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.

"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"

He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming.

He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.

His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.

The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens.

"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."

"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"

As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.

He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.

A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.”

He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”

“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."

"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.

"Oh."

"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"

"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.

"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.

"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.

A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others.

But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.

And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"

"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."

"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.

Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."

"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."

"Steve!"

He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.

"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."

Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.

He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.

He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.

Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.

He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.

He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.

Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.

Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.

"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"

"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."

Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"

"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."

"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"

A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"

"We'd hit the showers."

Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve henderson #eddie munson #ruelogy #inspired by another amazing tumblr ficlet #it put worms in my brain and then this happened

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