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osaemu · 6 months

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GETO SUGURU: ❛❛ SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE KISSIN' ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ your boyfriend can't be home for christmas? fine then, you'll just spend it with his best friend! but be prepared, 'cause your boyfriend's gonna be mad when he gets home. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. modern!au. best friend!gojo. degradation, spanking, p –> v, you guys are loud and you get walked in on! gojo gets slutshamed.. a lot. and he's very annoying!! also there's lots of borderline crack in this fic, have fun with that! 3.6k words, not proofread.

author's note: it's been a hottt minute since i've written for geto and i lowk forgot how to write him.. anyways.

“what do you mean, you’re not coming home for christmas?” you huff, hopping on your bed and lying on your stomach.

the man on the other end of the phone sighs exasperatedly, and you can almost see suguru massage his temples when he replies, “i have work, baby. i’m sorry, but i really can’t miss this chance to—”

it’s the night before christmas eve, and you just learned that suguru won’t be home in time to spend christmas with you—obviously, you were upset, because you’d been looking forward to spending the holidays with him. but to your dismay, holiday season’s always the busiest time of the year for businessmen like suguru.

“fine,” you groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you do so, and you mutter something about life not being fair as suguru lists all the reasons he can’t be home by christmas morning.

“i have a big meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, and there’s no way i’ll be back by the morning after,” suguru explains tiredly. you can hear the sleepiness in his voice, but the selfish part of you wants to keep him on the phone longer—it’s only seven, and you could easily spend the next couple hours convincing him to come home sooner.

“but suguru—” you try, even though you know nothing’ll convince him at this point.

“i’m sorry, honey,” he interrupts. after a moment, suguru’s voice softens and he continues, “i just can’t make it home by christmas. we can spend the day after together, though—i think i’ll be free for the rest of the week.”

you roll off the bed, stuffing one hand in the pocket of your hoodie—suguru’s hoodie—as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a mug of hot chocolate. the other hand still holds your phone to your ear, and you swallow back the rest of the protests you have to suguru’s absence.

“anyways, i gotta go,” suguru murmurs, obviously suppressing a yawn. “love you, baby. n’ i’m sorry, but i really can’t do anything about it.”

he hangs up before you can reply.

almost instantly, you dial satoru’s number—he’s probably the only other person you and suguru both trust enough to confide in about your problems, and like always, satoru picks up right away.

“hey, satoru?”

“heyyy, i already heard about it from suguru,” satoru replies, and there’s some suspicious squelching sounds in the background. are those grunts, too?

“uh, what are you doing?” you ask tentatively, hopping on the counter and sitting with your back pressed against the wall. the oddly wet sounds continue for a couple more seconds, and then they stop. “satoru?”

“shit, sorry, i was in the middle of something,” he replies with a breathless laugh. “yeah, i’m done now. wanna see?” your phone lights up with an invitation to facetime, and you hit the ‘x’ immediately.

“no, i don’t want to see whatever the fuck you’re doing,” you grumble, ignoring his laughter. “you’re disgusting, i’ll call you ba—”

“no, i’m free, i’m free!” satoru interrupts, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “suguru won’t be back for christmas, right?”

you pause and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. “yeah, he won’t be.”

“and you want a way to get him to come back sooner, right?”

“yep. you have anything in mind?” you ask, half-hoping that satoru’ll be able to come up with some genius plan to get your boyfriend to fly back here to make it in time for christmas. but if you’re being honest, you know that there are very few things that could convince suguru to drop his supposedly important meeting and come straight home.

and somehow, satoru devises a plan that makes you certain he will.

————

the next morning, you receive a text from suguru asking you to facetime—under normal circumstances, you’d just ask him to call instead since you’re at a cafe, but not today. today, you want him to see you and your mischievous little plan, so you eagerly accept.

“hey, sweetheart,” suguru says the second the call connects. his dark hair is pulled back into its usual half-down half-up style, and he props up his phone on something to use his reflection to adjust his tie. “how are y— wait, is that satoru’s jacket?”

you smile innocently and turn the phone to show satoru, who’s sitting just across from you at the table by the window. after satoru’s taken his time to wave and blow a kiss to suguru (who rolls his eyes in response), you turn the phone back and say, “oh, i just got a little cold. it’s pretty chilly down here!”

suguru frowns, brown eyes narrowing at your cheeky expression. “very funny. why didn’t you just bring your own jacket? or one of mine?”

oh, this is the question you’ve been waiting for. you shrug off satoru’s rather comfortable jacket and show suguru the tight, long-sleeved shirt you’re wearing underneath it. the fabric hugs your skin in a way that shows off all your curves, and even better, it’s a light shade of blue that’s somewhere in between the color of satoru’s eyes and hair.

“i did! but then it just got so cold and satoru was nice enough to offer me his jacket,” you say nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way suguru’s jaw tightens. you flutter your eyelashes innocently and smile at suguru, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes focus on your outfit.

“you jealous?” satoru chimes in, snatching the phone out of your hand and posing in front of it, admiring himself in the camera.

“no,” suguru mutters, but it wouldn’t take a genius to tell that he’s just lying through his teeth. satoru grins in response, making a peace sign with his hand and winking.

“good, ‘cause i’m gonna be hangin’ out with her all day long!” satoru cooes, blowing suguru another kiss before you swipe your phone back out of his hand.

“is he joking?” suguru grumbles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. you shrug in response, not buying his cool and collected persona. you know suguru better than most, and the subtle way his shoulders tensed the second he saw you in satoru’s jacket gave it all away.

“nope,” you reply, soft lips tugging themselves into a little smile. “we might spend christmas together too, ‘cause you won’t be here. but i guess i don’t really mind anymore—satoru’s good company!”

satoru covers his mouth to hide his laughter at your comment, giving you a thumbs-up when suguru doesn’t reply. your boyfriend says something about already being late and having to go, and this time, you’re the one who hangs up.

“oh, we definitely got him,” you grin, smugly lifting your mug of hot cocoa and clinking it with satoru’s in a celebratory expression. satoru hums in agreement before he takes a sip of his cocoa, face growing pink at the sudden warmth.

“so, how long d’you think it’ll be until suguru texts you that he’s on his way?” satoru asks, leaning back in his chair and blowing on his cup to cool off the smoking-hot liquid.

“hopefully soon.”

“i’m betting on… three hours.”

three hours later, you don’t get a single text from suguru. four hours later, nothing. on the fifth hour, you finally receive a message from him, but it’s just a “how are you?”

“was that not enough?” you whine, half-looking at your phone as you walk through the mall with satoru. “how else can i convince sugu to come back by tomorrow?”

satoru shrugs, pulling the red lollipop he got from a toy shop’s cashier out of his mouth. “i mean, we tried jealousy, so how ‘bout we go the other route?”

you tilt your head curiously, waiting for satoru to elaborate.

“y’know, why don’t ya tempt him in… other ways?” satoru wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your face grows warm despite the chilly air around you.

“satoru…” you pause, face unreadable as you stop walking and turn to him. satoru holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for your verdict.

“that’s a really good idea.”

————

and that’s how you ended up in a clothing store, sifting through hundreds of dresses in search of one that’d be alluring enough to draw suguru back home.

“what color does he like on you?” satoru asks, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he’s receiving from the other people in the store as he examines handfuls of dresses with interest. “red? black? white?”

you shrug, running your fingers over a form-fitting dress the color of suguru’s eyes. “i dunno, do you think he’d like this?”

satoru turns, takes one look at the dress, and instantly grabs it. “c’mon, let’s get you into a dressing room.”

the second you and satoru get there, the dressing room attendant gives you both a weird look. her eyes settle on satoru, and she asks, “weren’t you just here a week ago with another girl?”

satoru’s face goes redder than you’ve ever seen it. “uh, yeah, i was. oh, this one’s my best friend’s girlfriend, not mine—”

you shove him aside and hand the dress to the attendant, smiling bashfully. “just trying on this one, thanks.”

the attendant eyes satoru suspiciously and then nods. “okay, but he doesn’t get to go inside. last time, we got a noise complaint from the other customers.”

if you thought satoru’s face was red before, now it’s a shade redder than you knew was possible. in fact, you’re almost considering sending him to the hospital to get checked on as you close the dressing room door behind you and try the dress on.

it’s a little tight, but that’s expected given the skin-hugging fabric. after a couple minutes, you turn and admire yourself in the mirror—the dress, thankfully, fits perfectly. the fabric accentuates your features in the best way possible, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from staring in the mirror any longer.

“how do i look?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room and doing a twirl for satoru. his jaw drops, and he nods instantly.

“yeah, this is the one,” satoru affirms, taking out his phone. “want me to be the one to send the pics to suguru? that way we can still make him jealous!”

you give him a thumbs-up and blow a kiss at the camera, trusting satoru to take a flattering picture before you head back into the room to change out. on your way out of the store, you buy the dress at the counter—knowing suguru, he wouldn’t reply to satoru’s text, but you just knew he was dying to see you in that in person.

————

later that night, well after satoru’s gone back to his house and you’re relaxing in your own, suguru texts you again.

sugu: can we call?

you grin and roll over onto your back, nestling yourself deeper into your pillows before you dial his number. it only rings once before he picks up, and he instantly asks if satoru’s still with you.

“nah, he went home,” you say offhandedly, toying with the corner of your sheets. “did you like my dress?” you ask coyly, enjoying the way suguru pauses for a long second before replying.

“yeah, it looked good on you.”

“that’s it?”

“it really brought out your eyes.”

you bite your tongue to suppress a groan, instead opting to bury your face in a pillow instead. you had just spent the past twenty-four hours running around in circles, doing everything possible to get suguru to come back, and that’s all you get? really?

“anyways,” suguru continues, and you hear a soft rustling sound in the background—if you had to guess, he’s probably in bed right now. “how was your day, baby?”

“good,” you respond briskly, a soft scowl appearing on your face. suguru, being as observant as he is, picks up on the subtle change in your tone, but he doesn’t say anything. “satoru and i had a really good day. how was yours?”

suguru pauses before answering. “i missed you.”

“then come home, sugu,” you plead, even though you know that there’s no way he’ll be back in time. but it’s worth a try, right?

“you know i can’t,” suguru murmurs, exhaling softly. “no way can i get a flight back this late and make it back by tomorrow morning. i—”

“then get a sleigh!” you huff indignantly, unable to resist smiling when you hear suguru laugh. “please, sugu? christmas won’t be christmas without you.”

“just spend it with satoru,” suguru mutters under his breath, and that’s when you realize that your efforts haven’t entirely been in vain. he’s obviously sour that you spent the whole day with his best friend instead of him, and a small spark of hope starts to fester in your heart.

“maybe i will,” you reply coyly, and you can hear your own smile in your voice—and you’re sure that suguru can hear it too. “anyways, i’m a little tired. good night, baby.”

“night.”

————

the next day, you host a party in your otherwise empty house—after all, it’s christmas, and it’d be rather depressing for you to spend it alone. so you invite satoru, satoru’s friends, and their friends, and so on. word gets around fast, and people show up in droves.

which is why you don’t notice when suguru himself slips in through the back door.

you’re giggling with satoru and his stoic friend kento when they both stop laughing, and you look up at them, confused. “what is it?” you ask, sipping the sweet liquid in your glass with a smile.

“suguru?” satoru asks, lips tugging themselves into a wide smile. “guess you didn’t wanna spend christmas alone, yeah?”

you turn around, half-expecting satoru to be joking. but to your surprise, your dark-haired boyfriend stands in front of you, smiling dryly. you stare at him for a solid two seconds, certain that you’re hallucinating. “sugu? but i thought—”

“thought you could mess around with my best friend?” suguru muses, arching one of his eyebrows. his suit’s a little wrinkled, and his hair’s more disheveled than normal, but somehow, he seems more alert than ever. suguru’s amber eyes go from yours to satoru’s wide blue ones, and satoru shrinks away from him with a nervous smile.

“i’m gonna go,” kento says offhandedly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving you, satoru, and suguru alone in the living room.

“hey, bro, it was her idea!” satoru says instantly, raising his hands as if he’s a burglar in front of the police. you turn to him in disbelief, scoffing indignantly at his pitiful attempt to get out of trouble.

“no, it was your idea!” you insist, jabbing your finger at satoru. he gasps dramatically and pretends to faint, to which you roll your eyes good-naturedly. you turn back to suguru, rounding your eyes in an attempt to gain his favor. “i swear, sugu, this was all satoru’s idea!”

“you liar,” satoru grumbles, crossing his arms and huffing childishly. you turn and glare at him, and coupled with suguru’s unimpressed look, it’s enough to scare satoru off.

and now it’s just you and suguru, alone in your mint-scented living room. christmas pop plays in the background from another room, and maybe it’s just the dim lighting but you swear you can see suguru’s face go a shade redder than before.

“hey,” you mumble, averting your eyes.

“hey,” suguru replies. he smiles, and just like that, all his features soften. “don’t you want to know how i got here so fast?” he drawls, reaching out and brushing something off your shoulder. his fingers trail down from your shoulder to your collarbone, which is all the more prominent thanks to the dress you’re wearing. incidentally, it’s the same dress you had sent suguru a picture of yesterday—maybe that’s why he can’t take his eyes off you.

“yeah, how did you get here so fast?” you ask curiously, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace your figure down to your waist. suguru’s eyes go from your dress to your face, and he grins.

“well, i had to leave right before my meeting started and bribe some passengers with a shit-ton of money for their seats,” suguru starts, taking you by the hand and leading you to your shared room. “and believe me, it was a lot of money. and most people still said no, ‘cause they want to be with their families for the holidays.”

he makes a face as he pushes open the door, and stops in his tracks. your face grows warm as you realize that you had set up your room for him too—it’s illuminated with soft candlelight, the linen sheets are changed, and you—oh, you look perfect in suguru’s eyes. it takes a great deal of his willpower to stop himself from fucking you right there and then.

“oh, yeah, it was a lot of money,” suguru continues, smiling down at you coyly. “between the deal i just fucked up and the ridiculous amount of bribes i had to make, i think you owe me.”

suguru makes his way over to your bed and sits, spreading his legs and showing off his growing erection. you grin, following him and sitting in his lap. “did you miss me, sugu?”

“damn right i did.”

and barely a minute or two later, he’s got you face-down ass-up in the sheets, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your increasing moans. “shh, wouldn’t want our guests to hear ya,” suguru whispers, breath hot against the side of your face.

you squirm underneath him, mind hazy from the feeling of his dick buried in you for the first time in.. how long? does it matter? “s-sugu, please fuck me,” you mumble, pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t bothered doing anything to you besides use you as his personal cockwarmer.

in the short time he’s been inside you, suguru’s barely moved—and fuck, he enjoys watching you squirm around and beg him to do more than just.. nothing.

“sugu, plea—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass, relishing the lewd whine that slips out of your lips in reply. “fuck, you thought y’could get me back here by fuckin’ with my best friend?” suguru cooes, shifting his hips.

“we didn’t—”

“yeah, no shit, baby,” suguru interrupts dryly. “otherwise this’d be a lot worse for you—and for him.”

suguru’s dark eyes flit over to where the dress you bought lies, discarded somewhere in the corner of your room. he grins and uses his hand to turn your head, gesturing at the fabric. “and i bet he was the one who gave you the idea to do whatever the fuck that was,” suguru drawls, clicking his tongue. “tell me, whose idea was it to have him send me that pic? yours, or his?”

when you don’t reply, suguru sighs dramatically and grabs your hair, pulling your head up enough for him to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this’ll be a lot easier for you if you just answer—the—question,” suguru breathes, punctuating each word with another slap to your ass.

“it wasn’t m-mine!” you cry, looking up at suguru with shiny, rounded doe eyes. “i just wanted to—”

suguru cuts you off by pulling out of your drenched cunt just enough to allow him enough space to go back in, and his thrust is harsh and hits all the right places inside of you. your walls clench around him, and shit, suguru realizes that he missed fucking you like this more than anything else in the world.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he hisses, shifting his hips again to allow himself more space to move. “did ya not touch yourself at all while i was gone?”

“n-no,” you stutter, swallowing another pornographic sound from escaping your lips. “i waited for you, sugu,” you gasp, feeling him hit spots you haven’t felt throb in a painfully long time. and fuck, you’re so out of practice that affer just a few thrusts, you’re mewling all over his cock and whining about how you’re close to cumming.

your vision gets speckled with spots of white as thoughts of suguru take up every corner of your mind, even as he teases you for getting so close so fast. but it’s not your fault you’re about to cum faster than you’ve ever done—you’ve tried fucking yourself with your fingers on times when suguru was out for work, but he’s spoiled you with his dick more than you can imagine.

and that’s why you cum all over his cock in what has to be a record-breaking time, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you mumble indecipherable words.

“aw, look at you,” suguru murmurs, stroking your hair as you tremble underneath him. even though it’s unbearably cold outside, it feels scorching hot in here—but maybe that’s because of both of your heaving chests in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you mumble hazily, and suguru chuckles in response.

“it’s alright, baby,” he responds lightly. “y’know i like fucking your bratty cunt dumb every once in a while, heh.”

you two lie there, basking in each other’s presence for a little while longer before the bedroom door creaks open. and to your horror, satoru stands there, seemingly bored by the whole scene.

“can you two keep it down?” satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “we’re trying to have a karaoke competition, but you guys keep going agh—”

suguru hurls a pillow at satoru, cutting off his mocking moan. “you’re next, asshole,” suguru grumbles, getting off of you and covering you with the sheets.

“you’re gonna fuck me next? wow, what happened to hi, hel— oww, okay, i’m going, i’m going!”

#osaemu #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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theemporium · 2 months

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[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

“Fuck.”

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?”

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile.

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

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yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤

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user i am going to the nashville show!!!

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jackhughes congrats on the tour!! ur gonna kill it!!❤️‍🔥

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user who the fuck is jack hughes?

...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background.

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said.

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?”

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.”

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?”

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?”

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended.

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!”

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin.

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?”

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.”

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.”

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him.

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!”

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.”

But he did.

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did.

...

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yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

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...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.”

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt.

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off.

“Uh, what?”

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned.

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended.

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?”

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted.

“So are you!”

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate.

...

liked by jackhughes and 362,373 others

yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

view all 14,737 comments

user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.”

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?”

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?”

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response.

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke.

quinnifer: ur right

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

liked by jackhughes and 983,373 others

yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

Kaminari watched with a quirked brow as you walked straight into the common room and plopped right down next to Bakugou, who opened his arm to allow you to curl into his side.

Sure, it amazed him that Bakugou even had the means to score a partner, let alone one would could just come in and plop next to him, interrupting whatever game he was playing on his switch, but…

Kaminari was moreso interested in whatever you two were doing than thinking about the other complexities of your relationship.

“What do you want?” Bakugou asks, his nose burying in your hair.

“Hngg.”

Bleach blonde eyebrows furrow in frustration, “you do realize it’s almost 10 pm, right? I’m not doing that.”

“Mmmnn!” You push your head against his shoulder, and he snarls at you.

“Don’t you ‘mmmnn’ me! It’s fuckin’ dark out.”

“Do you have any lick of a clue what the hell is going on?” Kaminari whispers, a hand covering his mouth in an attempt to keep his question between himself and Kirishima. Kirishima tips his head as he watches you and Bakugou… talk? to each other on the loveseat just feet away.

“Honestly man,” the redhead sighs, tipping his head in thought. “No idea.”

“You want Aizawa to kill me?” Bakugou mumbles, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. “Dumbass. Because he will.”

“Hmph..”

“Yeah, I should’ve expected you to say that.”

“Say what?” Kaminari whispers, the pitch turning into a whine, gentle fingers tugging at Kirishima’s tee-shirt. Kirishima shrugs and continues to watch the… conversation.

“Come on,” Bakugou pleads, “can’t I just give you some of my chips? I’ll take ya to get some snacks tomorrow, I promise-“

“Mmmmnnnn…”

Bakugou groans and tips his head back, blinking up at the ceiling as if trying to work up some strength. “Hey, idiots,” he grumbles, making the two of his friends tense up in fear; Kaminari visibly trembles, he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he just really wanted to know if you were okay-

“What time does that stupid convenience store close for the night?” The blonde asks, and Kirishima watches as your lips, peeking from Bakugou’s neck, curl up into a smile.

Kirishima shrugs, “I… think they’re 24 hours. Or at least open until real late. I think they stop making food at 1 am though.”

Bakugou groans. Kaminari sees you stifle your giggles, your fingers curling on his shirt. You grunt again, and Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Fucking- fine.” He turns back to his friends with a snarled lip. “You dickheads want anything?”

“Uh…” Kaminari begins. “I’ll… take a strawberry juice, if you’re offering.”

“I’m not, but my insignificant other is.”

Kirishima chuckles, “I’ll take an egg roll. Thanks man.”

Bakugou gives a subtle nod and turns his head back down to you, “you’re coming with me-“

“Mmmnnnn…”

“Oh hell no!” He barks. “If I go down, you’re coming with me, you shitfuck!”

Once again, you laugh into his neck, and even if kaminari and kirishima don’t understand the dynamic, it feels good to see Bakugou smirk in your hair and nuzzle into you.

“Mmmuvyounnn.”

“Yeah yeah… love you, too, or something.”

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bunnylovesani · 5 months

Text

Kiss Me Through The Phone

Summary: You call your jerk of a stepbrother to remind him to pick up some milk on the way home but the conversation takes a sinful turn.

Content warnings: Stepcest, dubcon, masturbation, fingering, squirting

WC: 2.9k

“What do you want?” Sam’s short-tempered voice rings out of your phone’s speakers as he picks up your call.

“Just calling to say mom wants you to pick up a carton of milk on the way home.” You exhale. Your mother had been married to his dad for several months now but talking to Sam still made you frustratingly nervous.

“Fine. Is that all?” He snaps back.

“Yeah. When are you going to be back by the way?” You innocently chirp, worried that he’d been gone for so long.

“Why do you care?” He scoffs and you shrink down onto your bed. He had a special gift for making you feel invisibly small.

“Jus’ wondering Sam.” You shrug. “You’re barely ever home. Gets lonely sometimes.”

“Princess wants a playdate, is that it? I’ve got better things to do than rot away in that hole of a house.” The mean tone in his voice pinches at your heartstrings and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You quickly wipe them away and regulate your breathing, not daring to let him hear your sniffles- you’d never hear the end of it.

“Okay. I’ll stop bothering you then.” You whisper disappointedly, heart sinking even more when you’re met with silence.

“I’m only down the road at a friend’s house. I’ll be back later tonight.” He sighs, as though revealing the simple information was a burden to him.

“You will?” You almost begin to float at the thought of him spending the night for once.

“Yes. You can bother me then.” He sneers.

“Okay!” You have to cover your mouth with your hand before the “can’t wait!” slips out of you. You anticipate that he’ll hang up but the seconds on your screen continue ticking on.

“What have you been doing today?” He asks with a faint curiosity and you’re taken aback by his unusual question.

“Oh! Um, I went shopping earlier.” You reprimand yourself for the stupid response. No wonder he thought you were nothing but an airhead- why couldn’t you have said you were reading classic literature or listening to metal?

“My old man give you a new credit card?” He questions and you blush with embarrassment. Your new stepfather was endlessly generous and as much as you loved being spoiled, you were concerned with the impression it left on Sam. “It’s alright. He loves you like you’re his own. Angel of the family. Probably glad he’s finally got a kid that isn’t a total mess now.” He adds before you can interject.

“Don’t say that, Sam. You’re not a mess.” You remark earnestly. You weren’t about to admit it but you thought the absolute world of him.

“Whatever. What’d you buy?” He brushes the subject off and you hear him exhale- he must be smoking again.

“Oh, I-uh. Well, I…” You stutter, remembering exactly what it is you’d bought earlier.

“Spit it out.” He retorts impatiently and you eye up the pink bag of lingerie sitting by the edge of your bed. “What? You buy something secret?”

“I mean, kinda. Not really. It’s stupid.” You shake your head in panic. “I bought some new bras and panties.”

Once you blurt out the delicate information, there’s an uncomfortably long pause.

“Cute. Bet you’ll look real pretty in it.” He chuckles lightly as he exhales again and a hot blush creeps over your whole face.

“Maybe. I haven’t tried it on yet.” You murmur, unsure how to process Sam complimenting you.

“What are you waiting for?” The sly smirk plastered on his face trickles into his words and you can picture it, clear as day.

“I-I don’t know” You stumble, putting the phone down and fishing your favourite selection out of the bag- a striped pink set complete with chiffon bows. Without a second thought, you strip down to nothing and slide on your new purchase before twirling to admire yourself in front of the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Sam’s voice rings out on speakerphone.

“It’s pretty. Very flattering.” You said sweetly.

“Show me.”

His bold words stopped you in your tracks and you broke you out into a flurry of goosebumps.

“W-what?” You hesitated, wondering if you’d misunderstood something.

“You heard me. Show me.” He stated confidently.

Reluctantly, you approached your buzzing phone and peered at the screen to see an incoming FaceTime call from Sam. Against your better judgment, you accepted the request and fought the grin that threatened to envelop your face once your screen filled with his handsome, moody face.

“Hey there, princess.” He drawled smoothly, a joint hanging between his fingers.

“Hi.” You cooed, shyness consuming you. The sight of the mischievous glint in his blue eyes paired with the messy, dark hair that trailed down his forehead had you struggling to put a sentence together.

“Put the phone down on your table and give me a spin then.” He ordered more than asked.

Without a second word, you gently placed the phone on your vanity table and propped it up by the mirror before standing back with the same countenance as a skittish deer.

“Wow. Where’s that body been hiding?” He sniggers and you resist the urge to cover your heated face with your hands.

“Now let’s see the back.” He gestures for you to turn around and you follow his command, perching your ass in the air a little as you show him.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He expresses with a low, breathy tone. “Sit down for me.”

Somewhat confused, you situate yourself on the chair by your desk.

“Now lean back. Just like that, sweetheart.”

You follow his words without question, spurred on by the trust you had for him.

“Now spread your legs.” He said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world before taking a final drag of his joint and putting it out. When he sees you’re frozen in shock, he simply raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, as if to say “what?”

Anxiety racks your body- as well as deep, burning desire and a desperate urge to please him so you part your legs slowly, resting your heels on either edge of the chair.

“That’s it, baby. You’re so well behaved, aren’t you?” His snarky voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up but you’d do anything to hear him call you ‘baby’ again. “Why don’t you slide those off?” His intentions finally come into clear focus- all doubts fading away when you hear the faint clinking of his belt. Too far gone to turn back now.

You put your thighs together, feet swinging gracefully in the air as you gradually pull your panties off. You hear rustling on the other line as Sam’s eyes remain painstakingly fixated on you and the glistening wetness you’ve revealed to him. Dragging the pink fabric over your knees, you flick them off and spread your legs once again.

“L-like this?” You mumble anxiously, feeling chillingly exposed.

“Yeah, baby. Just like that.” He sighs as you hear the snap of his boxers.

“What are you doing, Sam?” You ask apprehensively, a warmth coming over you at the sound of his endearing words.

“You wanna see?” A darkness overcomes his eyes, already smudged with 2-day old eyeliner.

“Mhm.” You nod and he lowers the camera a couple of inches- just enough for his happy trail and lower hips to come into view.

“Are you sure?” He teases and you nod again without a second thought.

“Alright.”

Without further delay, his large cock springs up onto your screen- swollen veins snaking around his thick base and the tip a pretty blushed pink. You exhale a shaky breath at the sight- you’d never seen one before and you weren’t expecting that your stepbrother’s would be the first. His large hand grabs the shaft, stroking it with slow but firm pumps.

“I wanna see you doing the same now, princess.” He rasps, small groans escaping his parted lips between sinful words.

“Me?” You’re taken aback by his perverted request.

��Who else has got her legs spread? Yes, you. Put those pretty fingers to good use and touch yourself. Can you do that for me, baby?” He asks sternly and you have to look away from the camera when you notice how hungrily he’s staring at you.

“I don’t know, Sam…” Your mind clouds with doubt. “Isn’t this really fucked up?”

“The only thing that’d be fucked up is you backing out now.” He rebuked with the same aggression in his voice you’re used to hearing. “If you don’t do it now, I’ll do it myself when I get home.”

The thought of Sam’s fingers prodding somewhere so intimate both turned you on and freaked you out beyond measure. The dangerous stare in his glazed-over eyes served as a warning and you knew he wasn’t bluffing.

With bated breath, you snaked one hand between your legs and traced it down your puffy folds.

“Good girl. I knew you’d do the right thing.” He sighs contentedly and resumes stroking his cock, the tip now a deeper pink and glassy with precum. “Now squeeze your tits with your other hand.”

You knew better than to argue back so you followed his orders, raising your free hand to knead your left breast.

“Pinch your nipple.” The expression on his handsome face contained nothing but dark, burning lust.

“Sammm…” You whined, consumed with embarrassment.

“Don’t make me come down there.” He scowled threateningly.

Anxiety racked your body but you could feel the wetness pooling in your cunt as you lightly pulled at your nipple.

“I wanna see you fucking yourself.” He announced ominously. “Come on, baby, use those fingers.”

“But Sam, I-I don’t do that. I don’t like it.” You mutter- you’d never tried before.

“Do it for me.” He insisted and you knew you couldn’t refuse.

Your middle finger outlined your opening- it was certainly wet enough to slide in easily, but you still felt scared. Wanting to complain and give up, you looked up at the phone still perched on your desk and saw him then- eyes intently fixed on you and stroking himself desperately, shirt lifted up just enough to reveal his toned abdomen. He looked a mess. And all for you?

Scrunching up your face, you slowly dipped a finger inside, wincing at the unfamiliar feeling and reprimanding yourself for not being strong enough to say no.

“Oh, you’re such a baby.” Sam shook his head. “And you’re not doing it right.”

“I don’t know what you want!” You moan frustratedly, pulling your hand away in defeat.

“I know. I’ll show you.” He affirms lowly.

“What?” You reach out and grab your phone.

“Stay right there.” He orders before hanging up, leaving you staring at the blank screen of your phone in confusion and horror. He wasn’t going to come here, was he?

You were too obedient to do anything but stay in place like he’d instructed but you were still tormented with anxious anticipation. It was one thing to mess around on the phone but something entirely different to take it to the next level. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cross that line.

You heard the heavy thud of footsteps traipsing up the stairs and your whole body froze. The door swung open and a smirking Sam entered the room with a cocky stride.

“You haven’t moved.” He notes, closing the door behind him and approaching you like a predator closing in on its prey.

“You told me not to.” You counter.

“That’s right.” He mutters to himself as he lies back against your headboard. “Come here, sweetie.” He beckons you over and you timidly go over to him, your back pressed against his open chest.

Sam rests his chin on your shoulder and inhales the scent of you, nuzzling up to the crook of your neck.

“Lie back for me.” You rest your bare self against him completely, slotting in between his legs. “Just like that. Now I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

“But- but you said if I did it myself then you wouldn’t.” You whined.

“I know doll but you didn’t do it right, did you?” He traced his hand down your slit and wasted no time before gathering the slick with two fingers and plunging them inside you.

“Sam!” You mewl at the unexpected intrusion.

“Shut up.” He curls his fingers and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You look down at the silver rings glimmering on his fingers, now sheathed inside you.

“You’re so soft and squishy.” He laughs mockingly, plunging his slender fingers in and out roughly. “And squelchy too. You hear that?” He speeds up for a moment to emphasise the lewd sounds of your wet pussy, arousal dripping down his hand already.

“You’re gonna let me play with you.” He fucks his fingers in and out of you with brutal precision. “Because that’s what big brothers do- and good little sisters listen.”

“But Sammy, it’s wrong.” You moan and he clamps your mouth shut with a big open hand before you can voice any more protests.

“You make the mistake of thinking I care what you want.” He palms your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers, squeezing at it hard. “You’re my little toy. A thing to play with. You understand?” You nod as much as you’re able to considering the state of delirium you had fallen into.

“Stop squirming and take it.” He slaps your breast harshly before sticking his thumb in your mouth; you suckle at it messily, drool dripping on your chin and down your cleavage.

“Too-too much Sam.” You wail, thighs shaking and closing in around his veiny arm.

“I don’t think so.” He yanks his fingers out so that he can force your legs open with both hands, pulling them apart as far as they could go before dipping his creamy fingers back in.

“Do you know what squirting is, baby?” He asks you calmly, deriving a sick pleasure out of compelling you to speak when you were clearly falling apart.

“Y-yes.” You choke out breathily.

“How?” He raises an eyebrow and snakes a hand around your neck. “Has my little sis been a slut?”

“No, no, I promise.” You shake your head desperately.

“How then? Been watching things you shouldn’t have?” He cocks his head around to face you and you shyly nod in response. “Ah, I thought so. That’s very naughty of you, sweetheart.” He chastises you, admiring how he’d turned you into a panting, dishevelled mess in no time at all.

His fingertips brushed against an undiscovered spongy spot inside you and your toes curled at the blazing sensation. You entered a trance and soon after you heard a wet gushing that spilled out and drenched your thighs and sheets.

“Such a good girl.” He kissed the side of your face sloppily. “Knew you could do it.”

You peered down and saw that his broad, veined forearm was dripping- creamy wetness dribbling from his fingertips.

“I-I did that?” You panted, confused.

“Sure did, baby. All you.” He started rubbing circles into your clit and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

“Sam, what are you doing?” You whined, head spinning with the mind-numbingly good way he was playing with you.

“I’m not done with my little toy.” He massages your swollen pussy, callous fingertips stroking against the delicate nub with dizzying speed. “Cum on my fingers, baby, cum all over them.”

You came undone, whimpering and crying out so loud the walls vibrated. Sam chuckled at the sight, looking down at your fucked out expression with cocky pride.

“We’re home!” Your mother’s voice rang out as the front door shut with a resounding slam and you scrambled to get dressed. Just as she climbed upstairs to reach your room, you’d gotten your dress back on- albeit backwards.

“Oh, hey Sam.” She peered in, noticing him sitting on the chair by your desk and he waved at her with a thin smile. “Did you get the milk like I asked?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

“Everything slips your mind, sometimes I wonder if there even is a mind to speak of.”

“Mom!” You screwed your face up at her, hating how she and Sam bickered.

“What? He forgets everything.” She waves her hand in the air dismissively, about to head out the door before your dress caught her eye. “Is that a new way of wearing it that I don’t know about?” You look down as she points at the inside-out fabric.

“Yeah, mom. Contrast stitching is all the rage.” You nod persuasively.

“I’m getting old.” She sighs. “But it’s nice to see you two hanging out.”

“Oh we’re a regular Bonnie and Clyde.” Sam smirks and you laugh nervously, hoping she wouldn’t read too much into the strange comparison.

As soon as she’s gone, Sam shoots you a dark stare, lust infusing his eyes once again.

“You’re lucky they got back home when they did. I would’ve ruined you.” He remarks casually and you shuffle in your seat uncomfortably, burning under his intense gaze.

“You already did.” You gulp at his thinly veiled threat.

“Oh baby, you have no idea.”

Taglist:

@w0rsh1psells @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @emmalandry @slut4starwarssmut @ghostlycrystobalove @iamjustaholeforyousir @billy-stu-wh0re3 @mousie101-blog @sweetcheesecakesblog

୨୧ If you want to be removed from the Taglist or only want to be tagged for certain fics, please let me know ! ୨୧

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #life as a house

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breadbrobin · 6 months

Text

“doc”

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[child of apollo reader, should be gender neutral]

i tried to write a summary but it sucked so: reader is a child of apollo and luke is always hanging around the infirmary with a new injury. you hate it (do you really?)

(this got so out of hand but im so obsessed with luke castellan rn it’s not even funny. like. help.)

warning: like one or two swear words, mentions of injuries and illness, fluff i think

word count: 1.2k

____________________

you’d never been a fan of luke castellan. you knew it, he knew it—hell, everyone at camp knew it.

but a little unfriendliness never stopped him.

children of apollo were meant to be warm and kind all the time, but you’d rather die before being happy-go-lucky all the time like your siblings. you’d rather do your job: healing the campers who injured themselves throughout the days at camp. you’d also rather those campers not include luke castellan for once, but not all wishes can come true.

scarcely a day could pass by without luke coming into the infirmary, or coming up to you elsewhere in camp if you weren’t there, with a minor injury that he insisted needed healing immediately.

“i just don’t think i can continue kayaking with a sprained ankle, y/n.”

“what if it was your knees you skinned? wouldn’t you want to get them healed so you could get back to arts and crafts?”

“if my cut finger isn’t healed as soon as possible i’ll have to sit capture the flag out tomorrow! yes, i know it’s a paper cut. that’s not the point!”

he really was ridiculous.

either way, you had to heal him, technically. at your heart, you were a good person. on the surface, you wanted to punch him. give him something to really cry about.

“y/n, your boyfriend’s here again.” one of your sisters, cassidy, called out to you as you checked the stock of bandaids.

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to correct her. “what this time?”

“i just have the worst headache, doc. it’s killing me.” luke said dramatically, holding his forehead. the small grin on his face didn’t support his statement at all.

you turned around, eyes wide and face serious, but trying not to smirk. “oh no, you might have meningitis! if it’s the worst headache of your life, we should get to you a hospital so they can do a spinal tap and run some tests.”

the grin on his face faltered as you pulled him to a seat. “uh—“

“lie down. don’t move. i’m going to get chiron.”

he gripped your arm. “no, wait, i think—“

“you’ll be fine?” you turned around with raised brows. “yeah, thought so. drink some water, castellan.”

“but—“

“what? you won’t be able to do sword fighting practise with a headache? big deal.”

“y/n—“

“you need to stop coming in here every time you get bored. we’re not an entertainment space.”

“but, i really do have a headache. like. a migraine.”

you stopped and turned back around, dropping the bandages you had been organising. “oh. shit, i’m sorry. hold on.”

cursing yourself internally, you rushed off to get nectar to hopefully help, along with some painkillers and a bottle of chilled water. when you came back, luke was lying on the bed, eyes closed.

“you okay, soldier?” you patted his shoulder gently.

he cracked one eye open and nodded. “kind of.”

you gently pulled him to sit up. “come on. gotta get some meds in you. eat any food today? drink enough water?”

he shook his head as he sipped the nectar, his eyes squinted. “got busy.”

you shot him a disapproving look and he smiled guiltily. “you need to eat or you’ll die. do you want to die?”

he looked up at you with furrowed brows. “you don’t have a very good bedside manner, you know?”

“then why do you keep coming back here?” you went back to organising bandages, busying your hands.

“i like my doctors prettier than they are kind, honestly.”

you froze your movements and looked over at him. luke was smiling slightly. your cheeks weren’t turning red, you told yourself. they weren’t allowed to. “whatever,” you finally said. “take your meds, drink all of that water—sip it, don’t chug—then get some sleep, alright?”

he nodded, taking a sip of the water. “yes, doc. got it.”

you nodded at him firmly and walked off once he’d taken the painkillers, hoping he couldn’t see right through you.

luke hadn’t been to the infirmary in a week, and you were genuinely starting to get concerned.

every free moment you got, you were staring at the door, or out the window, waiting for him to come in with some stupid injury and even more stupid excuse. but he didn’t.

after watching you pace for the seventh time in one morning, cassidy groaned. “just go find him.”

“i’m sure he’s fine.” you said, wringing your hands. “i mean, he’s probably just busy.”

“just go. you’re stressing me out. i can’t get anything done with you filling the room with your nervous energy. go find your boyfriend.”

“luke’s not my boyfriend.”

“i never said who it was.”

“well, it was pretty obvious—“

“just go!” she threw a bandage at your head, effectively forcing you out the door.

you didn’t even know where he was.

camp was huge, so it took you around twenty minutes to find him, he sun glaring into your eyes and likely burning your cheeks. regardless, you were on a mission. finally, you spotted him in the arena. of course.

you watched for a while until he noticed you, standing in the shade with your eyes squinted in the sun and your arms crossed over your chest. he grinned and jogged over.

“hey, doc. what brings you here?” he asked, sheathing his sword.

your eyes followed the precise movement. “why haven’t you been to the infirmary?”

he shrugged. “i haven’t been injured.”

“didn’t stop you before.”

there was a silence.

then he smiled again. “did you miss me?”

your cheeks burned. “no!” you cleared your through awkwardly. “i just… i get… bored. and you… keep the monotony away.”

“you missed me.”

“i did not miss you.”

he leaned closer, rocking back and forth on his feet. “you missed me.”

you glared up at him, but couldn’t fight the tiny smile that forced itself on your lips. you shook your head, pressing your lips together tightly. “nope. didn’t miss you.”

“well,” he shrugged. “guess i don’t need to tell you that i did actually just hurt my hand while training, huh?”

you frowned. “are you aware that consuming as much nectar and ambrosia as you seem to want to will cause you to burn to a crisp?”

“i don’t need godly food if i have you as my doctor.” he smiled cheekily, clenching his fist then wincing. “seriously, though. it hurts.”

“aw, poor baby.” you pouted, leaning forward and placing your hand on his and trying to feel if there was any injury present.

before you could do anything, his fingers had interlocked with yours and he was stepping closer to you.

you looked up at him, heart pounding and cheeks burning. “what are you—“

“i don’t know what we can do for a date around here, but i’d love to take you on one, doc.” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you froze, heart fluttering. butterflies danced in your stomach. you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself, smiling. “okay. yeah. take me on a date, soldier.”

“yeah?” he smiled, squeezing your hand. “great! i’ve been trying to work up the guts to ask you for weeks now. also, can i kiss you?”

“i’ve been trying to pretend i didn’t want you to ask me for weeks.” you said, stepping slightly closer to him. “also… yes.”

his free hand cupped your cheek and his lips pressed to yours, soft and sweet.

you wondered why you ever said you didn’t like him.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you

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snowy-vee · 4 months

Text

All Mine (2)

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: I've spent my whole day squishing my head to finishing it today, and here it is! Also I won't be uploading the pt.2 of Academic Rivals, because I prefer to leave it as a One-Shot but I have in mind another, much better, plot with the trope Enemies to Lovers with Ellie. Read the final note!!

Pt. 1 Here Pt.3 Here

Inform yourself about what's happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.

Ellie knocked on your door for the third time that morning. The first one was before her morning run, the second one was after that and the third was once she was done in the bathroom.

When she heard no answer, she went in and opened the curtains right away. “Get up, it’s the same every morning.”

You covered your face with the blankets to avoid the sun, saying, “Give me five more minutes,” but Ellie wouldn’t have it.

She got on the bed and shook you. “You have practice in an hour; I’m not letting you leave without breakfast, and then you’ll complain I didn’t wake you up,” she said. “Come on, get up.”

Sitting upright in bed, you let out a sigh, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and let out a moan. “Els, just give me five minutes.”

She shrugged and said, “Your call,” but before she could move, you grabbed her arm and drew her nearer to you.

“Lay down with me for those five minutes,” you requested, hugging her until you managed to lay her down beside you, even though she was fighting to break free. You didn’t want to let her go.

“Fine! Just five minutes, I’ll set the alarm, I have places to be,” she said, taking her phone out of her sweatpants pocket.

When she was done, you muttered, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, shut up,” and placed her phone on your bedside table. With a smile on your face, you raised the covers to allow Ellie to slide into them, encircling her waist with your arms and placing your head on her chest.

She was trying not to touch you with her free hand and you could hear how quickly her heart was beating, as if it was your first time sharing a bed. “You can give me a hug too,” you muttered.

With a clear throat, she said, “If that’s what you want.”

You appreciated that she was a little flustered, even if you couldn’t see her face. It was something you truly enjoyed doing to her.

She relaxed and soon fell asleep. Your plan was to sleep too, but you were thinking about where she had to go when her classes didn’t start until 2 p.m. You turned around slowly and grabbed her phone, unlocking it.

¡Ding!

The notification startled you for a moment, almost making you scream. You quickly checked if Ellie woke up because of the sound, but she was asleep.

“You have to be kidding me,” you whispered, reading the notification from the panel.

Dina (Campus) : I’ll see you in an hour then! I truly want to try those croissants you’ve been talking about, and I also wan…

Rolling your eyes was the least you could do. You shook your head, going to the alarm and deactivating it. Dina was a big girl; she could eat those croissants alone. You hoped she choked on them.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The sound of the TV, the microwave, and your humming was enough to wake her up. She yawned and stretched out, all calm until she saw how late it was.

“Fuck!” Ellie said getting up from the bed and grabbing her phone “No,no,no…”

You were scrolling on your phone, having breakfast, hearing how she was going side to side. From the bathroom to her bedroom and vice versa until she came to the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you woke me up? I told you I had places to be!” she walked past you to the entrance to put her white sneakers on.

“Good Morning to you too” you said sarcastically “I thought it was your classes where you had to go, it’s 1 p.m, you still have time”

Ellie shook her head “No, it was something else! What are you doing here, tho? Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

“I woke up like 30 minutes before you, so” you shrugged “You’re not going to drive me to campus today?”

“Uh…” She was roaming through her backpack making sure she had everything “I can’t today, sorry but here, call an Uber”

She left some money on the table beside your plate before stealing on of your toasts “Bye, see you later!”

“She is joking, right?” you thought picking up the money. “Seriously, Ellie?!”

You yelled from the balcony, seeing Ellie running to her car

“Sorry, no time!” She yelled back getting into her car with her mouth full of the toast.

The thing is, Ellie was in a hurry. She had arranged to meet up with Dina for breakfast before class at a café she had suggested herself, and on top of that, she had overslept.

She started the car and began to drive. When she reached a red traffic light, she took the opportunity to call Dina, who answered almost immediately as if she had been waiting for her. She sounded a bit annoyed; after all, she had been waiting for her for a long time. But she understood that Ellie had overslept. She suggested they meet at the entrance of the building where they had their only class together.

Obviously, Ellie agreed, but she couldn’t go empty-handed. So, as soon as she arrived on campus, she went to the cafeteria, ordered two coffees, and some cookies that Dina had mentioned she liked yesterday.

“Ellie, you didn’t need to buy breakfast,” the dark-haired girl said, trying to hide her big smile. She grabbed the bag and chuckled softly, looking at the cookies. “Wow, you sure know how to apologize.”

“Sorry, again, for standing you up. It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s okay. Next time, I’ll come pick you up at your place.”

Next time? That meant Dina wanted to keep meeting up. Ellie nodded energetically. By the time class started, they had finished breakfast, talked about different things, sat together, and also had small conversations during class.

“That’s all for today. Remember, we start presentations in two weeks. Goodbye,” the professor said, collecting his briefcase and leaving the classroom.

“Well, on Tuesday, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go to a café to finish it?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Ellie said, gathering her things. “See you tonight at the party?”

“Yes, but aren’t you going to the parking lot?” Dina asked, watching as Ellie walked in the opposite direction.

“No, I have one more class, and then I’m meeting a friend.”

Dina nodded, waving goodbye. Ellie didn’t have another class, but she usually waited for her outside hers to go eat together. She had no idea why she had said that.

Your building wasn’t far from hers, so in less than 20 minutes, she arrived. She went up to the second floor and could see people coming out of your class, and finally you, but behind you was Abby Anderson. Ellie saw how she grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the others. It seemed like you were arguing about something until you pushed her aside and quickly walked to the stairs.

“Ellie? I didn’t think you were going to come pick me up today. Never mind, let’s go!” you said, intertwining your arms, almost dragging her to get out of there quickly. “I think they’re serving carbonara pasta in the dining hall today. You love pasta, right? How great that it’s on the menu today.”

Ellie nodded, frowning as she glanced at Abby once more before leaving. She would ask you about it later…

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“I don’t like it, I’ll just wear something else,” Ellie said, entering your room for the third time with a different outfit than before. You rolled your eyes at her. “Ellie, I’m going to hit you if you don’t decide,” you said, watching her with frustration as she seemed unable to choose her clothes for the party. “Who do you want to look so good for?”

“No one. Could you help me instead of judging?” she replied, tossing the shirt she was taking off towards you. You dodged it, laughing, before throwing it back at her.

“Cargo pants and a black top, good combo, simple and it looks great on you,” you suggested. A few minutes later, she came back into your room wearing the suggested outfit. “See? I never fail,” you said with a grin.

“Fine,” she said, sitting on your bed as she watched you apply makeup. You were wearing a brown top tied at the top with a bow and a denim mini skirt. Ellie couldn’t help but admire your body, especially your legs, and you could see her doing so in the mirror. With a smile, you turned to her, and her gaze shot up to your face.

“Let me do your makeup,” you said.

“Why?” she narrowed her eyes and shook her head as she watched you approach with a playful smile. “Okay, but only the eyeliner.”

“Kay. Close your eyes,” you requested, opening the black eyeliner as you positioned yourself between her legs. “I’m going to sit on you.”

“Is that necessary?” Ellie asked, opening her eyes slightly, to which you nodded.

“I’m not comfortable, and if I’m not comfortable, it won’t turn out well,” you said, sitting on her and starting to apply the makeup. The only sounds in the room were your breaths and the low music from the speaker. “So… where did you have to go early this morning?”

“I had something important,” Ellie said, almost stuttering. She didn’t expect you to ask anything, but why wasn’t she telling you the truth? Why did she feel weird mentioning that she had plans with Dina?

“Ah, really?” you responded vaguely, clicking your tongue.

“Yeah… And what were you talking about with Abby?”

“Something important,” you shrugged. “There, it’s done, open your eyes.”

Ellie opened them, blinking a bit, smiling sideways. “Does it look good on me?”

You nodded, still on top of her. You grabbed her cheeks and squeezed gently, making her lips press together, and asked, making eye contact with her, “Is it for Dina that you’re getting all dressed up?”

“Maybe”

“Are you planning to kiss her tonight?”

“Maybe?” Ellie was confused about where these questions were coming from and at the same time thinking about how well you knew her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have ‘hidden’ her meeting with Dina from you in the morning…

“When was your last kiss? Like four years ago, right? Wow, you’re rusty,” you teased.

“Well, let’s not exaggerate,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink, not only from your grip that was tightening more and more but also from the image that crossed her mind of kissing Dina.

“Do you want to practice?”

“I mean… I don’t want her to think that I don’t know how to kiss. I know how to; I’ve kissed a lot of girls.”

“You only kissed two girls: me, for your first kiss and your ex-girlfriend, Cat. The little kisses at some parties while playing ‘spin the bottle’ don’t count.”

“Well, they should because I kissed plenty of girls,” Ellie mumbled.

“Decide before I change my mind or suit yourself,” you said, finally releasing her.

Ellie bit her cheek from the inside before nodding. “Okay, let’s practice.”

You did not wait to join your lips to hers, starting a slow kiss with a slow peace. Your arms were resting on her shoulders, bringing her closer to you, and your hands were starting to play with her hair. You wanted to explore Ellie’s mouth; you needed to feel her.

The kiss became deeper, and you buried yourselves more into each other’s mouths eagerly, feeling your lips closer as if there was a need that must be fulfilled. Soon Ellie’s tongue found yours, and they intertwined, making you moan in the midst of the kiss.

That made Ellie press her hands that were on your thighs; she had liked that sound a bit too much. Slowly she began to slide her hands upward until she touched the hem of your skirt, which was hiked up due to the position you were in.

Your breaths became more ragged as the rythm of the kiss quickened, and you wanted to continue, but no. If you didn’t stop, Ellie wouldn’t learn, she wouldn’t learn that only you could kiss her like that, you had to keep her yearning for more of you.

So you had to cut it off and watch as Ellie tried to reconnect your lips; it was so satisfying, you had to stop her gently, “Wow, Els, calm down, this is practice,” you said in a joking tone, getting off her, patting her knee to get her attention. She was still lying on the bed with an embarrassed expression on her face. “There’s a party we have to attend, come on.”

You grabbed your minibag and left your room to the front door, and Ellie did nothing but get up and follow you, not without first processing what had just happened a few seconds ago.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Ellie opened the passenger door once you arrived so that you could get out of the car.

She had to park a bit far from the house, but from there, you could hear the music and there were already drunk people in the street as you walked towards the entrance. You walked with your arms intertwined as you told Ellie the most recent gossip you had heard in the locker room or that you had been told, and Ellie listened, reacting when she could put faces to the names.

“He said that it was Sarah’s underwear, and Sarah denied it, saying that she was not ghetto and that she would never wear that. Imagine who snapped? April!”

“The church girl with brown hair?”

“Yeah, that one! It was so messy because the previous day she was preaching about how she was going to see the pearly gates since she was one of the last ‘pure’ girls on the team.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way! She’s so dumb, I hate her and more with the fa-”

“Hi, Ellie.”

Oh, you were going to kill this bitch. Dina was sitting on the porch of the house with a glass in her hand; she had probably been there for a short time. She looked at Ellie with a wide smile that decreased when she looked at you.

“I’ll see you inside,” you said, letting go of Ellie and passing by Dina without saying anything. Once inside, you joined your group of friends who were already quite drunk; they all greeted you, some with mini hugs or two kisses before giving you a glass full of rum and cola, more rum than cola. “You all know me better than I know myself.”

“Of course we do, silly, we love you.” You let yourself fall into the couch, tasting the drink, when your eyes diverted to see Ellie and Dina finally entering the party, giggling and whispering in each other’s ears because of how loud the music was.

“I love you too, April!” You smiled in her direction, drank all the liquid in your cup in one go, and handed it to her. “Be a doll and refill this.”

April looked at the rest of the girls and then at you, grabbing it. “Slow down, we don’t want you to repeat the Anderson accident again.”

The ginger girl beside April pushed her slightly, looking at you with her eyes wide open and laughing awkwardly. “She doesn’t mean that.”

Your eye twitched looking at April go refill your drink; you were going to brush it off for now because you had better enemies to fight than her. You had a whole plan on how to snatch Ellie away from Dina, but it hadn’t been formulated clearly, and you didn’t like to act on impulse. Anyway, you were at a party, and you were going to enjoy it.

By the time it was 3 a.m., you were already dancing on the table and shouting the lyrics of the songs you knew, swaying your hips against whoever. You stepped aside for a moment, saying that you were going for another drink, jumping off the table almost falling to the floor, but you could only laugh; everything was funny to you at that moment, and you wasn’t even that drunk! You had high tolerance, only your tongue was kind of asleep and you were stumbling from time to time but you loved to play silly and pretend to be more gone then you really were.

You reached the kitchen, looking for a new glass in the cabinets because you had no idea where you had thrown yours, when you found one, you began to decide what liquor to drink with eeny, meeny, miny, moe, before someone took away the glass and took you somewhere no matter how much you protested. The other person had a strong grip, and no matter how vaguely you were saying to let you go, they didn’t.

“I can’t believe you have me added as Dina (Campus), how lame, I’m going to change it,” Dina said, changing her contact name, but Ellie, who had seen the situation, was not paying attention.

“As you wish,” Ellie murmured, watching you disappear to the second floor; that didn’t sit well with her.

“Done!” Dina smiled, returning the phone to its owner, but Ellie’s gaze seemed worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Wait for me here, yeah? I’ll be back,” Ellie said, grabbing her phone and following where she last saw you.

She went upstairs dodging some drunk people and the long wait line to enter the bathroom, trying to see if you were in any of them, walking in the hallway close to the door to see if she could hear your voice in any of them until one door abruptly opened and you came out of it with teary eyes but laughing. (What happened in the room?)

“Are you okay?” She asked. Hearing her voice surprised you.

“How long have you been there?” Depending on her answer, you had two reactions.

“I just got here, I was searching for you.”

There it was! The cherry on top of your plan. You hugged Ellie and started slowly sobbing, whispering in her ear, “I want to go home now, please…”

“Hey, what happened? what’s wrong?” Ellie asked, breaking the hug to look at you and wipe your tears with her thumbs. “Let’s go.”

She held your hand and walked to the stairs, turning her head for a moment to look at you once more, and her eyes saw the other person who was in the room with you. Abby Anderson.

Had she made you cry? She was lucky that Ellie was more concerned about getting you out of the party than beating her up.

“Wait, Ellie, my bag is in the living room with the team,” you said before she went outside.

“Oh, okay, wait here, I’ll get it for you then.” You nodded and waited until you couldn’t see her to fucking smile because of your victory.

“Hey,” a touch on your shoulder made you come out of your little mental dance, “Have you seen Ellie? She went somewhere around 15 minutes ago, and I can’t find her.”

Of course it was Dina…

“She doesn’t feel well, must be something she ate before.”

“You sure? Should I take her to the hospital?”

“No worries, we are going now, but here, money for an Uber,” you said, taking some money out of your pocket.

The same money Ellie gave you this morning. You were giving it to her, and for you, it felt so good as you patted her shoulder and sighed with a little smirk.

Dina thought you were calling her poor and mumbled a “fuck you” before dropping the money on the floor and leaving you there just in time for Ellie to come back with your bag.

“Sorry, there were a lot of people in the way,” she handed the bag to you, “Whose money is that?”

“Yours,” you grabbed the bag and started walking out. Ellie frowned, confused, but still picked up the money; it was free money, and everybody was too drunk to miss some dollars. She felt as if she was forgetting to do something before leaving. “Els!”

“Coming!” Whatever, maybe tomorrow she’ll remember; now she had to assist her best friend and be there for her as she always did… like a loyal puppy, a cute and precious one of your property.

Note: I will upload Pt.3 once this chapter and the first one reach 250 so I have time to write and to know that you all like it and want more ty♡♡

#ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #tlou2 #ellie tlou smut #tlou #dina tlou #abby tlou #wlw #lgbtq #the last of us fanfiction #ellie fanfic #snowy vee

980 notes · View notes

landitolover · 6 months

Text

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒈𝒐, in which charles isn’t the best boyfriend.. ౨ৎ charles x famous!reader

warnings- toxic charles, cheating, reader is love-dumb… !

y/n 💋

charles what the fuck

tell me it isn’t true??

who is she

cha 🤍

baby it isn’t true

i swear, i love you

she came onto me

y/n 💋

are you sure

cha 🤍

yes, my love

i promise you

y/n 💋

come over?

cha 🤍

i’ll be there in ten

Liked by charles_leclerc, alexademie, maxverstappen1, and 1,092,299 others

yourusername 🤍.

tagged charles_leclerc

View all 6,209 comments

user oh this man has no shame at all 💀

user yn…. 🌝

user girl pls run as fast as u can

user no queen you’re too good for him 😭😭😭😭

user yncharles nation how do we feel

→ user uhm TERRIBLE

→ user poor girl ☹️

→ user nah she definitely knows.

charles_leclerc mon coeur 🩶.

→ user …..

→ user he gave me the eww…

alexademie gorgeous 🤍

→ alexademie he’s there too ig…

→ yourusername 🫶🏻 ily

landonorris 🤨🤨

→ user even lando confused 😭

→ user bro keep charles in line

→ alex_albon me too lando…

lilymhe my girl 🤍🤍

→ yourusername 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

maxverstappen1 pretty :)

→ yourusername thank you

→ user SHOOT YO SHOT MAX!!

→ user mr steal your girl 🙏🏼 save her

lilyrose_depp 😍😍

landito

yn are you okay

y/n

uh, yeah? why

alexander albon.

be so fr

charles???

y/n

it was nothing, she came onto him

he loves me guys

landito

whatever you say, yn..

alexander albon.

stay safe queen!

Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilymhe, alexademie and 1,249,298 others

yourusername paris

tagged charles_leclerc

View all 6,292 comments

user this is so sad seeing how much she loves him

→ user fr and he’s out there cheating ????

user babe he hasn’t posted u in months why are you still posting him!!! 😭😭

user u are better than this queen 😪

user OPEN UR EYES BITCH

user she’s so strong

→ user not strong enough to leave him :///

landonorris sooo cute 😃

→ user i can hear the sarcasm

→ user LMFAOO

alex_albon yeah stay away from paris…

→ user SPEAK UR TRUTH KING

charles_leclerc ❤️

y/n 💋

chaaa, do you wanna come over?

cha 🤍

I can’t

sorry, chérie.

i’m out with friends

y/n 💋

nono it’s fine

have fun!

i love you ❤️

Read 20:22

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,293,293 others

yourusername time away!! with my favorites 🫶🏻

tagged lilymhe, alex_albon

View all 4,199 comments

user break up with your bf now xx

user too pretty for him

user 🙏🏼 a weekend without ch*rles

landonorris glad to see it!

→ yourusername 😃

lilymhe IT WAS SO FUN HANGING WITH U ❤️

→ yourusername 🤍🤍 love you sm

alex_albon i look gross in that pic

→ georgerussell63 nothing new mate

charles_leclerc so pretty mon amore

→ user the audacity this man has

→ user 🤺🤺🤺

Liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, landonorris, and 29 others

yourprivate when he’s making out with yet another girl 😂! idk what happened because i tried giving him my all 😂😂

View all 8 comments

lilymhe leave him please

→ yourprivate 😂😂 I can’t

lilymhe i don’t want u to be even more sad ☹️

alex_albon FUCK MEN!!!!

landonorris yn u are better than this

→ yourprivate am i though…

georgerussell63 he don’t know what to do with allat!!

→ lilymhe fr!! yn is too good for his ass

y/n 💋

what’s her name.

cha 🤍

what?

y/n 💋

her name

the girl you were kissing, charles

cha 🤍

baby

i was drunk

y/n 💋

don’t ‘baby’ me

and you WERENT drunk charles

what did i do wrong?

cha 🤍

nothing i swear

y/n 💋

I must’ve done something wrong

if you cheated on me TWICE

you probably cheated more than that.

cha 🤍

fine then, i just got bored of you

is that what you wanted to hear?

that i just stopped loving you?

because that’s what happened.

y/n 💋

fuck you charles

i knew I shouldn’t have dated you

I should’ve listened to everyone who told me to leave you.

cha 🤍

you should’ve 🤷

but you didn’t

You have blocked this contact

yourusername • 1 hour ago

maxverstappen1 replied to your story

maxverstappen1

hey, sorry about the break up

charles never deserved you though.

Seen just now

౨ৎ some crazy shit forreal 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼 now me personally i could never take charles back (why am i lying)… okay anyways i hope you enjoyed this 🐨🐌🤍

requested by my wife @landovilla ily 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 ౨ৎ

#𓇼 landitolover #꩜ my writings #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #female reader #smau #angst #toxic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x y/n

1K notes · View notes

neopuppy · 7 months

Text

Truth or Dare

a little more of this

warnings. dubcon, unprotected sex, degradation, he’s just too big, and ofc….. mean Jeno😮‍💨

———————————————-

This is stupid.

It’s the same crowd of people, same terrible flat drinks, same uncomfortable beanbag chair you’ve sat on nearly every weekend this summer.

But what’s more stupid is Chenle suggesting you all play truth or dare.

“You can’t be serious..” you mutter under your breath, turning away to roll your eyes.

“What?” Jaemin leans down from the couch beside you, eyebrows bouncing curiously. “Afraid you’ll have to choose dare and confess that Jeno’s dick was too big for you to take?”

“That never happened.” You snap back, shoving his shoulder away the more he nears. “Asshole.”

His smile widens, eyes close until they disappear before he turns to face all of your friends and claps obnoxiously loud. “Let’s play! I’ll go first, I choose truth!”

Chenle snorts, pointing the empty bottle in his hold at the older. “Okay, weirdo. When’s the last time you posted yourself jerking off in a mask on Twitter?”

Jaemin pauses, quietly snickering at the round of gasps that sound before he can answer. “You little prick..” he sighs, shrugging. “I don’t know, probably like, a week ago, or last night. Whatever.”

‘What?!’

‘Oh my god, what's his user?’

‘Wait, a ski mask?’

He laughs, flipping Chenle off and ignoring the slew of questions. “Okay, I get to ask now!”

Meeting eyes with everyone in the room, he takes a deep breath and turns to face you extra slowly, head tilted to the side with a suspicious smile. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not playing.”

“Boooo!” Haechan shouts, throwing a pillow at your head. “Don’t be lame!”

“Ugh! This is lame!” You retort, chucking it back at his face.

“Come onnnnn,” Jaemin presses on, reaching to pinch your arm. “Hurry up.”

The look on his face lets you know he’s not going to drop this Jeno thing, probably dying for you to choose truth and further humiliate you.

“Fine.” You say confidently. “Dare.”

“Excellent.” Jaemin gets up and plops himself down on the beanbag next to you, squishing your hips together. “I dare you to—“

Covering his lips, he leans in to whisper in your ear, chuckling as he finishes and moves back. “And if you don’t, truth is always an option.”

He knows the hidden threat is more than enough to keep you trapped in a tight place, licking across his teeth pleased by your silence.

The game drags on, most forgetting about your dare between shared kisses and scandalous confessions. Jaemin nudges your shoulder, nodding to the corner where Jisung stands nursing a cup all by himself. “Do it.”

It’d be easy enough to pull this off without causing any problems if only Jeno wasn’t 5 feet away spitting game, cornering some girl you don’t recognize. Nervously you make your way over to the table Jisung’s nearby, pretending to search for something to drink.

“Hmm,” you sigh, taking interest in the cup wrapped in his hold. “What’re you drinking?”

His mouth pops open surprised, finger lifting to point at himself before taking a quick glance around in realization that you could only be asking him. “Oh.. it’s just cola.”

Snatching up a clear bottle, you move to his side and lift it up higher. “Have you ever tried mixing it with rum? I hear it’s pretty good.”

He swallows, shaking his head and biting down on his lip. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Oh really?” Stealing a look to your side you can feel your chest tighten when you catch Jaemin’s taunting gaze, nodding for you to continue. “Honestly, me neither. These get-togethers get real boring if you’re not inebriated in some way though.” Siddling up to Jisung’s side you grip the bottle firmly with both hands, holding the end between your ribs to rub circles around it’s smooth curves.

Jisung’s eyes bounce around from your chest to the motion you build up around the bottle, lips pursed together. “Yeah, I kind of just hang out until Haechan’s ready to leave..”

“Do you wanna leave now?” You suggest, stroking up and down the bottle faster. “We can leave together.”

Gulping uncomfortably he waves a hand to dismiss your advances, nervously laughing. “Ah, I don’t think I should..”

“Why not?” Speaking up, you move in closer, peering from the corner of your eye to make sure Jeno’s paying attention. The girl standing before him long forgotten as he observes. “You know, there’s rumors about you..”

“There is?!” Jisung reacts vocally enough for a few heads to turn, shaking them off with a laugh before clearing his throat to whisper. “Rumors? About me?”

“Yeah..” slowly shifting your gaze Jeno’s way, you slide up against Jisung’s chest, tapping to bottle between his pecs and smoothing your free hand down his abdomen. “A lot of girls have been talking around the skatepark.”

Jeno stiffens up, standing more alert, brushing away the girl's hands that reach for his shoulders.

Jisung’s chest rises and falls faster, drawing in short breaths. “About me?? Talking about me??”

“They’re saying..” you make sure to speak clearly, tracing around his navel through his thin shirt before going lower to brush your palm across his covered groin. “That you have the fattest cock..”

Dark sleek eyes go wide, stepping forward with tight lips and rounded shoulders. “Even bigger than Jeno.”

“What?!”

“What did you just say?!”

Jisung and Jeno react with a mix of utter confusion and rage coming from different ends. The older ripping you away with a viscous grip around your arm before you can get a good squeeze on the growing erection under your palm. Dragging you to the staircase, he shoves your back to the wall right where no one can see you anymore; swooping in close to barricade you in before you can run back to the room.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He sneers, veins pulsating along his forehead.

“Don’t touch me!” Before you can scream for help, his hand slaps down covering your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeno unbuttons your jeans, maneuvering fast to keep you in place lodged around his thighs, hand sneaking in to gather your underwear. “You just can’t keep my fucking name out of your mouth, can you?”

The force he uses to trap you has your heart beating out of your chest, whimpering under his hand, scratching at his arms. “That taste got you obsessed,” he grins, nose digging into yours. “So desperate for more? Practically begging for me to break that pretty pussy apart.”

Jaemin dared you to rile Jeno up, not anticipating that pissing him off would lead to this. He manages to get your pants and underwear down past your knees, shoving three fingers inside of your mouth to keep your screams muffled.

“You can scream,” he hums, deep and raspy. “If you want everyone to know the truth, that my dicks too big for you. I know you didn’t get a good look last time..” he tugs himself out effortlessly, more than used to fucking anywhere, anytime, given any circumstance.

Pressing down on your tongue, he forces your gaze down, eyes going wide when you finally see it. The head gleams, throbbing a deep flush of pink leading up to a thick shaft lined in varying hues of green and blue. Vine-like veins wrap around his girth, trailing up to pale long fingers struggling to grip around the base; tattoos painted up his forearm rippling as he shifts closer and prods the tip against your slit. “Let’s see if you’ll keep going around making up lies about me now.”

Gliding his fingers free, he smears the mess of spit off on your chin, pulling on your bottom lip and releasing it to bounce back. “Look at all that fucking desperation in your eyes, you’re nothing but a pathetic cock hungry slut” He hisses, pushing against your entrance met with resistance the more he tries to probe.

“God you’re so tight,” Jeno grunts between gritted teeth, gripping firmly around the base of his length struggling to enter you more than halfway. “All this shit you talk and you’re tighter than a fucking virgin.”

“Your dicks just too big and useless!” His eyes snap open, lip trembling.

“You’re really fucked in that head huh,” Jeno chuckles under his breath. “Come here, I’m done playing nice with you.”

Twisting your hips around, he plants down on the stairs, sitting back on one of the steps and setting you on his lap. “Just for that, I’m going to make it hurt.”

Trying to get away is useless, met with his heavy palm wrapped around the front of your throat as he lurches your body back, keeping your back flush to his chest. “Don’t fucking bother, I know you want it.” He tuts, guiding his length back between your thighs, the fat tip pushing against your bundle of nerves. “Don’t you? Don’t you want it?”

Adding to your humiliation, Jeno slaps his heavy meat against your core, the clap of flesh colliding with your wet heat resonates; muddling the whispers that follow from the room. “Let them all know how bad you went this dick.”

“Fuck you Jeno!”

“Oh you will,” tightening around your neck, he bites down on your jaw, sweeping up and down through your slicked folds. “And everyone will know what a little lying whore you are.”

Pressing against your entrance again, he applies more pressure until your hole finally stretches enough to let him in. The scream you try to let out gets choked down, kept firmly in place despite writhing and kicking your legs out. “You're too big! Sl-slow down!”

Jeno ignores your cries, taking a hold of your hip to push you down the rest of the way until he’s balls deep, neck flexed and groaning through clenched teeth. “Fuck you’re so small.”

“N-no, too big,” scrambling to grab onto his thighs and push away, you brush against the bulge under your navel, expelling a moan from both of your lips. “You’re so deep.”

“What was that?” He rasps, biting your cheek, huffing breathily. “Let them hear you.”

“So full, so s-so full,” releasing your neck, he manhandles around your waist, pulling your hips up until nothing but the tip remains inside of you.

“Too big for even a slut like you.”

The sound of your ass landing down on his hips echoes into the room, pausing everyone's actions to listen in, quickly catching on to the two of you missing.

Jaemin smirks, pointing over his shoulder toward the staircase. “Games over.”

#nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #jeno smut #nct smut #jeno hard hours

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ameliora-j · 7 months

Note

ur the only person i trust who can give me a filthy but soft smut of james potter fucking y/n in his ice hockey jersey

i’m honored 🥹

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

content: soft dom!james, cnc, hockey player!james, pr manager!girlfriend!reader, humiliation, degradation, oral (f!receiving), daddy kink, jamie talking to ur pussy, impact play, unprotected piv, creampie, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

“james…” you groan, trying to push him away as he has you pressed up against your desk in your office. “cut it out!” you groan as he kisses down your neck.

“oh baby” james chuckles, shaking his head. james towers over you, and his ice hockey jersey are purposefully tailored to be longer and bigger on him so that they can fit over all his gear—thus causing every single one of his jerseys to be a dress on you. this—accompanied by a pair of thigh high boots—was your signature game day look. “you’re wearing the jersey, you’re asking to be split open on my cock and you know it” he chuckles lowly, nipping at your ear.

you whine, shaking your head as you push him back once more. “stop james. i’m serious, i’m not fucking you” you huff softly.

“uh huh baby… whatever you say” he murmurs, sinking to his knees and pushing your legs apart. he pushes his jersey up over your hips and tuts his tongue, shaking his head softly. “and look at that… you don’t wanna fuck but this little cunt is nice and uncovered for me” he hums, noting that you’d foregone panties—and james knew you expected this.

“my poor girl’s gonna be so cold on that ice tonight” he pouts softly, shaking his head as he rubs a thumb over your slit.

“james!” you squeak. “i’ll be fine” you shake your head.

“hush baby, do your work. ‘m talking to my girl” he chuckles softly. your eyes widen and heat rises immediately to your face as you realize james is speaking to your pussy, not you. “‘s okay pretty princess… i’ll make sure you keep warm tonight” he whispers before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your little clit.

he hums softly, his eyes rolling a bit at the taste before he wraps his mouth around your cunt, wiggling his tongue through your sticky folds. “that’s right princess, knew you wanted daddy” he whispers to your cunt, leaning back and spitting on your pulsing hole. “‘s okay… daddy’s here. gonna clean you up baby. make it all better” he hums to your pussy before diving back in.

“j-james… james!” you moan loudly, reaching back and pushing his head closer to your needy cunt. he chuckles against you, slapping your ass.

“i knew you’d come around” he mumbles, standing and beginning to undo his pants.

“n-no… no james i’m not fucking you! i’m trying to tell you we need to go” you whine, shaking your head insistently.

“yeah princess, i hear you” he nods, running his cock through your slit a few times. “there’s my girl” he groans as he feels your wetness soaking his cock. “it’s okay, i’ll give it to you… no need to cry” he chuckles lowly as your pussy drips down onto his cock.

he groans lowly as he slowly pushes into your cunt, practically whining as he bottoms out. “oh you’re so tight” he breathes, holding your hips.

“j-james… jamie stop” you whine as he begins to fuck you. his pace is slow but intentional, his hips angled to hit your gspot head on each time he slams his cock back into you.

“oh baby, you’re begging me to stop but my princess is begging to cum” he murmurs, gently rubbing your clit as he fucks you slow and hard. “it’s okay pretty girl… if you want daddy to stop all you have to do is cum” he taunts, holding you close to him as he fucks you slowly.

you whine, shaking your head as it falls back against his shoulder. “your pussy is crying for me… squeezing around me. oh baby she wants to cum so bad” he mocks, beginning to rub your clit faster. he keeps his pace slow, but pounds your gspot mercilessly as you cry out his name along with profanities.

“daddy!” you whine as you gaze at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“oh there’s my pretty princess” he hums softly, smiling lovingly at you as he leans in and gives you a kiss. you whimper softly, meeting his thrusts as you kiss him back. “‘s my good girl. take my cock so well” he mumbles, kissing across your shoulders.

“daddy… i wanna cum” you whimper, your eyes rolling as you clench around him.

“i know baby… i know daddy’s right there” he mumbles. “why don’t you milk my cock baby?” he hums, kissing your cheek. “cum for me… squeeze daddy’s cum from that big cock” he groans lowly.

you let out a long, loud moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as you cream on james’ cock. he sucks in air through his teeth, fucking you through your orgasm as his hips begin to stutter until he paints your walls with his cum. “what do you say baby?” he mocks as he rides out his orgasm, fucking you full of his cum.

“thank you, daddy” you moan quietly, smiling lazily at him.

#twisted tuesday!#nsfw.nani #dark.nani #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x yn #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter smut #james potter blurb #james potter fic #james potter drabble #hockey player!james potter #hockey player!james #james potter fanfic #james potter headcanon #james potter dialogue #names potter fanfiction

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fireflyinks · 7 months

Text

good boy ⭒

reader x peeta mellark smut

a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗

contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding

MATURE 18+

Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.

This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.

If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.

At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.

But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.

There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.

He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.

“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.

“Say that again.” He whimpered.

“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.

“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.

“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”

Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.

His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”

I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”

I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.

“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”

I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.

“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

There was silence for a few moments before he realized.

He sprung into apology immediately.

“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“

I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.

“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“

“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”

I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.

“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.

“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”

My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.

“Now say it to me.” I ordered.

“You’re so beauti-“

I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”

His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.

I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”

He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.

“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”

He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”

He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.

He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.

“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”

He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #praise #bakery au #fanfiction #smut #josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶

NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 11/20 [wc: 14.2k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 11: In the Beginning...

——Then——

In the beginning…

It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.

No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.

“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”

Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.

Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”

Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.

After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.

The phone rang.

He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.

“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.

“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.

He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”

Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

————

In the beginning…

It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.

It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.

Following the Munson name.

————

In the beginning…

It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—

That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.

Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.

Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”

“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.

There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.

Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”

“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”

“You know why.”

The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.

“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.

Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.

Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..

“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.

“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”

The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.

That was the final straw.

She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”

Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.

“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.

The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.

Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..

Embarrassment, failure, freak..

Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.

Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..

“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.

Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

Eddie froze.

Her.

Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.

Her.

He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.

The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”

“C’mon, Ed—”

“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”

“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”

Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”

There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.

He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..

Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.

Already, he failed.

Already, he was worthless.

Already, he was alone.

Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.

——Now——

Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.

His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.

“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.

The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.

“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.

Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”

Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.

Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.

You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.

He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”

Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”

“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.

Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.

“I wanna go,” you assured gently.

However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.

He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.

The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.

Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.

His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”

And you were pushed.

Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.

The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.

Soft music played from the radio station.

Riders on the Storm.

Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.

Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.

But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.

You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.

Now was not the time to bother him.

In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.

For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.

He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.

The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.

Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.

Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.

He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.

Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.

Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.

Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.

Lightning revealed his weary frown.

At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.

Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.

Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.

“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.

It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.

The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.

Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.

Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.

This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.

Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.

At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.

Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.

The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.

She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.

The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?

You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.

Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.

Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.

Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.

Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.

“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”

When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.

Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.

His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”

Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.

“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.

As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.

Never good enough for anyone to stay.

Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.

In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.

“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.

“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”

—Oh.

“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.

He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.

The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.

His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.

“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.

Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”

Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.

“Nothing bad can happen when we��re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.

Across the Universe.

Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.

His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.

Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.

Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.

“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.

Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”

An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”

And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.

Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.

Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.

You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”

“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”

The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.

Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.

You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”

Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.

He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.

Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.

And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”

Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.

But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.

“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.” The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”

Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”

You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”

“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”

Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”

Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.

Eddie took an anticipatory breath.

The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.

“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”

A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.

Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”

His shame was only beginning to unravel.

“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”

“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.

Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.

“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all.

Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.

Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.

“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.

In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.

She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”

Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.

“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”

He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.

Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.

“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.

Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.

Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”

Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.

“That hurt,” Adrie complained.

“Ow,” you agreed.

“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.

At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”

Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”

Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.

Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.

Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”

They blinked at you. You blinked back.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.

“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.

The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.

“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.

Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”

He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.

The night was really fucking long.

Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.

A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”

Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.

“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.

Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.

“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”

The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.

Working man arms defined your waist.

Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.

He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.

“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”

His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”

“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”

“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”

“Or, what about when—”

Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.

You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.

“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.

Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”

Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”

“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”

“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.

Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”

“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”

Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.

Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.

Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.

——Then——

In the beginning…

Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.

Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.

“Can I live with you?”

Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.

The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.

Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.

Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.

His uncle never took his room back.

Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.

He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.

Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”

The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.

“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”

Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.

Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.

But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.

Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”

As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.

“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.

Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.

Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.

Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.

He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.

——Now——

Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.

“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.

“I was,” he confirmed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”

Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”

Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.

Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.

—Mom.

No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.

“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.

He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.

And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.

It was unfathomably dark in his living room.

Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)

"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.

In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—

But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.

"Daddy?" she checked.

The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.

He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"

"I wish Miss Mouse was here."

Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.

"I wish she was my mom."

"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #the yes policy

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lordprettyflackotara · 25 days

Text

slide || chris sturniolo

almost ?SMUT. MINORS STILL DNI 18+. everybody put your hands together for drug dealer chris!

the finale is here!

Chris wasn’t a fan of doing anyone favors.

He enjoyed it in the beginning, befriending anyone he could to buy and sell product. Doing favors, asking favors. Establishing a long term fruitful relationship of trust. It was fun, his circle now so tight knit he couldn’t see past it.

What he didn’t enjoy, was his two brothers at his doorstep asking him for what he considered to be a massive favor. He had known about your existence for a while, purposefully ignoring you. After all, you were just another girl that Matt was probably fucking. Chris couldn’t help but wonder if he was wrong, both Nick and Matt acting like you were the most important person on the planet.

“So you see when he broke up with her she got super fuckin sad-”

“And usually we’ve made every effort to keep an eye on her-”

“But there’s a party tonight and we’re afraid she might wonder off and hookup with a sleezebag she might regret-”

“So we were just wondering if you could help us keep an eye on her since you um-” Nicks eyes briefly flickered into Chris’s room. “You know, sell at these kinds of things.”

Chris rolled his eyes. He never understood this kind of attachment, whether it was platonic or something more. “Ight fine, if she comes my way i’ll check on her.”

Chris didn’t need these parties, quite frankly. He sold enough cocaine to the bitches with rich daddy’s in beverly hills to where he didn’t even need to consider being here. But abandoning his original client base wasn’t honest, especially when the consumers hunger palette was diverse. He kept cocaine away from these parties, his display full of the usual pill bottles with weed and different party drugs.

He knew the owner of this house well, his set up upstairs in the attic. It was quiet enough to where it wouldn’t be discovered if you weren’t looking for it. A small brown table sat in front of the coffee he was sprawling across, a joint hanging from his lips. He decided to take his time weighing and separating the rest of the weed, nothing else better happening anyways. Chris knew not being honest with his brothers was wrong, but he didn’t feel any remorse.

The further your goody two shoe’s ass stayed away from him the better.

The night was going by smoothly for Chris, his usual customers eager to drop in and buy whatever they wanted. He had completely forgotten about you, until he heard a set of heels coming upstairs. Chris knew this meant one of two things. Either a girl was coming to buy, most likely offering head as payment or someone was lost. His blue eyes flickered up to the staircase, a very unsteady you appearing through the smoky haze.

Your eyes met his, an electric shock going down Chris’s spine. “Oh shit, you’re Chris aren’t you?” You asked, offering him a small smile. Chris removed the joint from his lips, kashing it out on the table. “Depends on who’s asking,” He replied, his face smug. You ignored his smugness walking over to him. You extended your hand for a handshake. “I’m y/n, i’m friends with Matt and Nick. You guys uh, kinda share the same face,” You say. Chris eyed you carefully. “So you’re the sad girl,” He hummed.You seemed completely harmless and if anything, absolutely adorable. Chris met your hand, giving you a firm handshake. “I would introduce myself but you already know who I am,” He huffed, resuming weighing the weed in his other hand.

Your gaze wondered over to his product table, one of his eyebrows raising. “You interested in buying kid?” He asked. You were soaking in the entirety of the table, examining every little thing. You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, i’ll take some molly,” You say, reaching into your skirt for some cash. Chris audibly scoffed. “The fuck you will,” He spat. Your eyebrows furrowed, staring down at him. His legs were spread, his gaze now falling onto that pretty face of yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, crossing your arms.

Chris chuckled. “You’ve never touched a joint in your life. I’m not selling you pills because you’re going through some shit,” He said harshly. Your face fell, your defensive stance changing into one of embarrassment. Chris was a harsh person, his words stinging more than he usual meant for them to. “Sorry kid, I won’t let you hurt yourself,” Chris apologized quietly. Your eyes were glazed with sadness, the kind Chris was all too familiar with. He cleared his throat, grabbing a freshly rolled joint from his product table. He held it up to you. “I’ll let you smoke this, as long as you let me teach you how to inhale properly,” Chris offered, giving you a small smile.

“How much?” You asked, reaching into your skirt for your wadded up twenties. Chris held up one hand, signaling for you to stop. “I’ll cover it, first joints are rare and your case, free,” He said, holding the joint up to show you. Your face lit up like a christmas tree, your heels clicking as you joined him on the couch. Chris brought the joint to his lips, grabbing a lighter from his jeans pocket. Your beautiful eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder, watching as he sparked the lighter. The flame ignited the joint, Chris’s lungs inhaling and soaking in the high. He exhaled through his nose, handing you the joint. “Alright kid, take it slow. Just inhale,” Chris guided, watching you slowly put the joint to your lips.

You were so cute and innocent, Chris finding himself softly chuckling as you inhaled. You immediately coughed, Chris digging in his backpack and handing you a water bottle. The gesture was sweeter than he meant it to be, your eyes watering as you grabbed the plastic bottle from him. He watched you gulp the water, the joint sitting between your fingertips. The kash was about to fall on your bare knee, Chris’s hand quickly falling on yours to grab the joint. “Shit kid don’t burn yourself,” Chris murmured, another electric shock flying down his spine as his hand brushed against yours.

Chris had hoped you hadn’t noticed the subtle heat rushing to his cheeks. Or his reaction to the comforting warmth of your hand. Thankfully you were too occupied in chugging your water, your throat engulfed in unfamiliar flames. You set the bottle of water down, giggling as you looked over at Chris. Your eyes were full of determination, a mischievous smile creeping up your lips.

“Can I try again?”

Chris had to admit you were cute, trying to inhale the joint the way he was instructing you to. It was refreshing being around a girl who wasn’t trying to impress him or get something from him. A girl who wasn’t from his side of the street. It felt like no time had passed when you had finally learned how to properly inhale. “There you go kid. You’ll be able to ghost in no time i’m sure,” Chris said, patting your knee. You exhaled the smoke, passing the joint back to Chris.

He watched goosebumps spread across your skin, his eyebrows furrowing. You were in something awfully skimpy, a black leather skirt and a matching top that made your breast stick out. Chris concluded this outfit wasn’t yours, surely. “Are you cold?” He asked suddenly. You were about to question him, the brunette answering the question for you. He shrugged off his gray jacket, handing it to you. “Put it on. I don’t wanna hear it from my brothers if you get sick,” He said, making an excuse to make sure you were warm. You also looked painfully cute in his jacket.

Your eyes trailed over his chest in his white wife beater as you shrugged the jacket on. It reeked of weed and cologne, a mixture you were beginning to love. “Thank you,” You say quietly. It was oversized on you, the cool air seemingly unnerving Chris. The silence that ensued was comforting, a compliment fixing to spill from his lips. Instead he stopped himself, not wanting to get too attached to you. “So, bad break up huh?” Chris asked, trying to change the topic.

You shrugged, tossing the hood of the jacket over your head. “Yeah I guess you could say that,” You replied. Chris leaned back against the couch, raising an eyebrow. “So, you wanna tell me what happened or do you wanna talk about something else?” Chris asked. He could practically see the debate forming in your head. He could only imagine how you were feeling, sadness mixed in with a newly found high. Shit, he was a bad influence on you. “I’d rather talk about something else. I’m trying to forget about him more than anything,” You say. Your eyes met his, the whites of your eyes glazed over with a familiar reddish pink.

“Or we could, you know, do something else,” You say shyly. Chris felt his heart skip a beat, that familiar electrical feeling ensuing again. This weed wasn’t laced right? He had been in much more lewd situations. Chris had been around the block more than once. Your suggestive words were making him feel like a preteen. “Nuh uh. Nope. I don’t take virginities kid,” Chris declined. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, not by any means. But you were too precious, too pure for him to ruin. To bring into his world of chaos. “Who said I was asking you to?” You questioned. Chris sighed, his eyes flickering down to your thighs.

“Probably the way you’ve been rubbing your thighs together for the past five minutes,” He replied. There was a pregnant pause of silence, Chris’s mouth suddenly running dry. Why did you make him feel this way? “Well maybe we could, I don’t know, fool around instead,” You suggested. Chris raised his eyebrows. “Fool around?” He questioned. He knew exactly what you meant, but he relished in the sight of your face turning pink. “You know what I mean,” You reply shyly. Chris shook his head, noticing the party was dying down. The music was being turned down, the sound of chatter decreasing.

“I don’t think I do. What are you talking about kid?” He asked you. Your face turned a deeper shade of red, the sight enough to make Chris’s cock throb. “Like uh. Fingering and head and stuff,” You answer awkwardly. Chris licked his bottom lip. Damn, Matt has to be stupid if he hasn’t noticed how adorable you are. Chris chuckled. “And head and stuff?” He laughed. You playfully shoved his arm. “Dont make fun of me i’m in college and haven’t done anything beyond making out,” You admitted. You had unintentionally brought yourself closer to him, your bodies only an inch apart.

The tension in the room was increasing quickly, Chris’s eyes flickering over to yours. “And you wanna change that? With a guy you just met?” Chris asked, skeptical. He tilted his head to the side, grabbing a blunt off of the table. “Never would’ve taken you for a horny little thing once you smoke a bit,” Chris teased. You rolled your eyes. “I technically have just met you but i’ve known about you forever,” You replied defensively. Chris ignited the blunt, watching the orange grow as he inhaled. “Cmere, wanna try something with you,” Chris murmured. He couldn’t give in, he wouldn’t give in.

He wouldn’t corrupt you. Not yet. You were too innocent. Too pretty. “Put this to your lips and inhale. Just stay very still for me,” Chris hummed. He guided the blunt to your lips, your doe eyes meeting his. He placed his lips over the other end, both of you inhaling at the same time. Chris couldn’t help but hold your gaze, admiring you. He had shotgunned a blunt with endless people, yet it felt so different with you. So intimate. His lungs demanded for him to pull away, so he did. He exhaled and watched you do the same, coughing as you smiled at him. “That was so hot, holy shit,” You laughed, tears flooding your waterline.

Chris leaned forward, wiping away a salty tear that was beginning to form. The pad of his thumb was gentle across your skin, your cheeks flushing red again. You were so easy to get riled up, so flustered. You leaned forward, placing the blunt on a rolling tray. Your lips were an inch from Chris’s your body yearning for his. “I meant it kid. I won’t fuck you,” Chris huffed, his hand not straying from your cheek. You swallowed, a boys set of lips never looking more appealing. “You don’t have to, just kiss me,” You said. Your eyes flickered to his briefly, before looking back down at his lips. You then added, “Please.”

Chris didn’t consider himself a weak man, but you made him one, He pressed his lips to yours, soaking in the faint taste of mint and weed. You met his lips eagerly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but want to deepen it, but feel you more. You allowed him in, grinning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He was intoxicating, the room suddenly feeling a million degrees. Chris’s hands fell to your waist, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

He pulled you onto his lap, your thighs straddling him. “You a good kisser for a virgin,” Chris teased, before grabbing the back of your neck to guide your lips back to his. You giggled as you shoved his chest, lowering your hips against his. The rest of the party seemed to disappear, the only thing existing in this life being you. You giggled as you hovered above him, your gorgeous thighs straddling him. Chris bucked his hips upwards, relishing in the sound of a soft groan escaping your lips. “Thought you weren’t gonna fuck me,” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Did you have any idea how addicting you were? “I’m not and I won’t, doesn’t mean I won’t tease you though,” Chris replied, kissing down the side of your face to your neck. His hands slithered back down to your waist, teasingly gripping the flesh. You felt like your body was on fire, Chris the only remedy for what you needed. “Chris,” You whimpered, his lips attaching themselves to your sweet spot. He would make sure not to leave a hickey that was too dark. He briefly pulled away, hovering over the purple skin. “Hmm? Need something?” He hummed. You grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him back to look at you.

Your assertiveness caused by desperation made his cock throb. “Please touch me. I’ll repay you. Just, please,” You begged. You were so pretty, begging above him like this. You grinded your waist down onto his hard cock, biting your lower lip. Chris flipped you both around, your back hitting the back of the couch as he kneeled before you. “You’re that desperate huh? Want me to make you feel good?” Chris asked. You were practically trembling, his lips peppering kisses on your thighs. “Are you sure about this kid? You’re shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Chris questioned, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m sure, please,” You whimpered. Chris slowly pulled up your skirt, placing teasingly slow kisses on the inside of your thighs. He hovered over your clothed cunt, pressing a kiss onto your panties. He could feel how soaked you were for him. The feeling alone made his cock throb in his jeans. Fucking hell.

“Yo Chris! You up here?”

The sound of Matt’s voice made your eyes go wide, Chris quick to react. He quickly pulled himself onto the couch, pulling down your skirt. He zipped up his jacket, covering your skimpy outfit and flusteredness. Two sets of footsteps were approaching quickly, whom he could only assume to be Matt and Nick. He tried to act nonchalant, leaning forward to cover his obvious and aching boner. By the time they reached the top of the stairs you thought your heart was going to fail.

“Oh hey I see you found Chris, looks just like us doesn’t he?” Matt asked, smiling as he plopped down on the couch beside you. He threw his arm around your shoulders, your eyes flickering to Chris’s. You were a flustered mess and he hadn’t even had a chance to taste you. “Oh for fuck sake Christopher don’t tell us you sold to her,” Nick huffed. He frowned disapprovingly as Chris began to pack up, shoving his products in his backpack. “I’d never sell to her, I have morals contrary to popular belief,” Chris argued, rolling his eyes. He noticed Matt’s arm around you, but he tried his hardest to pretend he didn’t.

“I better get going, got a meeting early tomorrow,” Chris huffed. Truthfully he didn’t feel like playing pretend around his brothers nor did he feel like hiding his aching boner. He shrugged his backpack over his shoulders, heading downstairs without so much as giving you a second glance. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want his brothers to embarrass him in front of you. He reached his ride outside, starting to slide into the backseat.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand grab his backpack that he turned around. He tried his hardest to hide his smile filled with relief. You followed him. “Do you um want your jacket back?” You asked shyly. Chris gave you a warm smile. “Nah kid, consider it yours,” He said. He stood in front of you, his friends yapping away in the front seats to each other. “Chris about what just happened in there I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-” You began rambling. Chris pulled the hood of the jacket off of your head, brushing some stray hairs behind your ears.

“You’ve got it all wrong kid. The very last thing you did was make me uncomfortable. I wanna see you again, away from my dumbass brothers,” Chris told you, cutting off the sound of your sweet voice. He allowed himself to lean forward, his lips dying to meet yours. “Let me pick you up tomorrow. Take you on an actual date. Wine and dine you,” Chris said. You found yourself leaning closer to him, the urge to press your lips against his. “I’d like that,” You replied softly.

“I’ll slide through tomorrow, round five. I got some shit to take care of before I come by,” Chris said. Behind you he could see Matt and Nick waving goodbye to some friends, about to walk onto the front porch. Chris pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, dipping into the car before his brothers could see him. He rolled down his window, holding up his pinky.

“I promise i’ll slide through tomorrow.”

You had a decision to make, whether or not to trust a drug dealer you had just met. You smiled as you wrapped your pinky around his, giving him your trust.

“Good, i’ll be waiting.”

a/n: this is my first time dropping a fic without smut lmaooo. didn’t feel right w chris being all mysterious drug dealer core 🕵🏻‍♀️.

#chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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