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driaswrld · 7 months

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lovers rock — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.7k

summary : over a bottle of ill-gotten vodka, the trio has a tipsy conversation about kisses.

part of : the star paradox collection.

(comment if u wanna be tagged for tsr!!)

notes : this is heavily based off the fact that reader DID in fact have secret feelings for geto and gojo but never said anything ab it until before the star plasma incident (fic ab that coming soon dw) you may interpret this as reader fell first, they fell harder bcus that's exactly what happened fr

other : satosugu makes fake IDs (based off that one fanart), literally underage drinking??? toru cant hold his alc but wbk this, suguru smokes here too, suggestive convo, mentions of like one curse word i think

current casette : lovers rock - tv girl (anything by tv girl is a tsr song okay?)

The dorms at Tokyo Jujutsu High operate on one solid rule.

All lights out by ten, no exceptions, no buts, ands, ifs or becauses. Curfew is at ten, be in your damn room by ten.

Naturally, Satoru and Suguru mistake ten for twelve.

It’s 9:53 when you walk into your dorm room, and the first thing that greets you are hushed whispers and a smoky smell.

Why is it so dark in here?

From your place at the door frame, your eyes flit to the back of Satoru’s head, silver white strands tickling his nape, uniform replaced with a blue hoodie. Suguru’s sitting across from him, slouched, cross legged like Satoru, hair tied into a ponytail and lips twisted into a thin scowl.

“—wasn’t yours.” Suguru grumbles beneath his breath, a pair of dice clinking softly in his palm, the light from your bedside lamp giving you a sneak peek of the numbers resting.

Three and six. Oh, no, that's definitely five.

“Cost me six hundred yen to get it.”

Satoru seems to ignore him, letting out a huff in defiance.

Suguru grunts, leaning over the side of the bed to pick up a half smoked cigarette, pressing it softly against the edge of your favorite incense holder to collect the stray ash.

“Broke ass.” Satoru mumbles, and though you can’t see his expression from here, you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Freeloader.” Suguru counters, cigarette lodged between his middle and index, and he brings it up to his lips and draws in softly.

He leans forward to drop the dice on Satoru’s leg.

“We’re supposed to split it equally.” You hear a clinking noise coming from Satoru’s lap.

“Like hell we are.” Suguru scoffs, a wisp of smoke leaving his mouth.

“I should get first share, it’s only fair.”

Suguru gets up from the bed, back turned to you as he slides the window open halfway. “We’re not sharing anything.” He flicks the cigarette outside. “I don’t know where your mouth’s been—”

“You tryin’ to fight—”

“Are you two getting high in my room?” Your voice makes them both freeze, and Satoru folds over the bed backwards, head upside down and staring straight at you with a guilty grin, all while Suguru is discreetly trying to fan the rest of the cigarette smoke out the window.

“What gave you that idea?” Suguru murmurs, squinting his eyes to make out your expression in the dim light with a faux innocent smile.

You breathe a chuckle, dropping your bag by the door and clicking it shut behind you. “How did the studying with Nanamin go?” Satoru asks, as if you can’t see him folded over the bed like he’s hiding something while Suguru fans the smoke through the window.

“I fell asleep halfway through, we got boba with Haibara instead.” You say, feeling blindly on the wall for the light switch.

“And you didn’t bring some back for me?” Satoru gasps, near offended.

“Don't change the subject,” you roll your eyes, pinky finger bumping against the light switch, and you flick it upwards with your index. When the light comes on and you face them, your jaw drops.

“Surprise…?” Suguru’s cheeks puff up in a wide thin lipped smile, almost mockingly. Satoru is still hanging off the edge of the bed, cigarette ash curdled on your incense holder, the pair of dice laying on the bedsheets and sure, they kinda made a little mess of your room.

But it's the bottle of vodka sitting between Satoru’s legs that takes the cake.

“You have to be kidding me—”

Suguru shrugs his shoulders, sliding the window fully open, the night air wafting inside.

It's almost curfew. And here they are. You're not even surprised, this is totally in character for them. “Wow, no, Satoru, you're such a rebel?” Satoru kicks his legs back and forth, voice mimicking a girly pitch. “Bad boys are so hot! Tell me all your secrets, toru-kun! None of that?"

“I was there too, idiot.” Suguru grumbles, shoving one of Satoru's legs aside as he steps over to the bedside table to grab the ash covered incense holder.

Satoru flails his legs like Suguru just smacked him, ever so dramatically. “How did you do it though?” You ask, with a near wince, exasperated but curious.

Unexpectedly, Satoru swings the vodka bottle sideways and into Suguru’s arms, the glass making a soft set of clink! sounds from Suguru’s rings as he catches it, both your eyes going wide as Satoru stands on the bed, striking some sort of elaborate pose.

“The date, June fifteenth ‘06—”

You turn to Suguru, confused but he only shrugs in response. “My assistant Sugi-san and I walked into Shinanoya—” Satoru continues his elaborate presentation, meanwhile you and Suguru whisper between his words. "Never call me that again—"

“So that's what you two were doing while you were supposed to be exorcising that curse?”

“He forced me to go along—”

“With these!” Satoru pulls out a mini plastic card, which is supposed to look like an ID, but really it's as flimsy as a piece of paper. You had to admit though, they really did get his good side in the picture. If he even has a bad side, that is.

“And we got the liquor at half price.” Suguru mumbles as you nudge him, and he pulls out his own fake ID, which looks the same as Satoru’s — you think you might want to print these pictures for a scrapbook or something some other time.

“I thought you said it was six hundred yen!”

“I added my service charge.”

“Service? What are you, a whore?”

You take the bottle from Suguru to feel the weight in your hands, and the liquid inside sloshes a little to the side.

Out of sheer curiosity and despite your better senses, you mumble, “Let's play a drinking game then.”

Forty minutes later.

It's drawing near to eleven. The lights are turned off and all that's coming from your dorm room are the sounds of yours and the boys’ whispers and hushed giggles from time to time, barely drowned out by a soft song playing from Suguru’s phone, playlist laying open on his phone, one of Satoru’s picks.

Are you sick of me?

Would you like to be?

“—turn it to your head if you can't answer.” Satoru grins, cheek resting on his palm as he lays across the bed. “Have you ever gotten freaky with a milf?”

A chortle leaves your mouth when Suguru twists his lips into an expression of shock and utter disgust, and you have to cover your mouth to not laugh out loud.

“A milf? Like… forty or something?”

“Not really — just like a hot older woman.” You say.

“Oh, she was around that age then, I guess…” Suguru grumbles, clutching the half empty vodka bottle in one hand, eyes squinted. “I didn't sleep with her though— I don't just… sling dick around like Satoru— I have morals.”

“Says the one who sucked tongue with an elderly woman.”

Suguru scoffs and takes a swig from the bottle, passing it over to you.

You shrug, coming to Suguru’s defense with a mumble. “I mean, Satoru… you are common—”

“Don't pretty it up, he's ran through—”

“Like hell I am!”

The three of you fold over in a fit of laughter, gasping for air, faces hot from the alcohol and the sheer idiocy of the moment.

It takes all your energy to muffle your combined laughs, and Satoru leans over Suguru’s phone to increase the music volume just a little, lightheaded and nearly knocking the vodka out of your hand, mouthing the lyrics with a lopsided toothy grin.

You like a pretty boy

With a pretty voice

“Your turn.” Suguru nods to you and the liquor in your hand sloshes to the side. “Make it good—”

Satoru tries to interrupt but has to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when you take a whiff of the vodka, head tilting back and mouth forming an ‘o’ shape — sure, you three were already a little tipsy, but you’re pretty sure this is way past your limit.

Not like you could hold your alcohol anyway.

Suguru was the only one who could survive, you and Satoru were certified lightweights by default.

“Dare me to do anything and I’ll throw up on you.” You huff, and both boys raise their arms up in surrender.

It’s these things, small moments like these that make you want to live forever.

Minus the aging part, or maybe with the aging part — if it meant doing stupid stuff with Satoru and Suguru, young or old, you’re sure you’d have no complaints.

Because it’s them.

“You scared?” Satoru chuckles, drawing you out of your thoughts.

The way he says it, in that tone – it’s the same tone that would make you follow him anywhere.

The same tone that makes Suguru roll his eyes so far in the back of his head you’d think he had a leading role in The Conjuring.

“Should I be scared?”

It’s paired with bated breath, and the way Suguru looks up at you, dark eyes glazed over with a hint of inebriation, waterline bordering on crimson from the lit cigarette tucked between his middle and index – it makes you feel naked.

In a way you’ve never felt before.

“That depends,” he murmurs. You gulp. It’s like the air in here has changed, foggy with a foreign feeling surrounding you three. “Do you wanna be scared?”

Suguru takes a deep inhale of his cig, leaning over to breathe out a plume of smoke. You and Satoru inhale it like you’ve neglected oxygen your whole lives.

Maybe if it were anyone else you’d call it want. Or need.

Something in your soul tells you it transcends that.

She might want a kiss before the end of the song—

“Suguru—” His name doesn't get the chance to leave your mouth entirely, Satoru’s thumb and forefinger already have your chin in his grasp, turning your gaze to him instead.

“What’re you looking at him for?” Satoru mumbles, and you hear Suguru stifles a laugh across from you.

“You think he’s gonna save you?”

You want to laugh, it’s a running joke anyway.

No matter what, you run to Suguru to put Satoru in his place. That time Satoru got you kicked out of a movie theater, or the time Satoru tripped you up during a mission in front of the first years, or the time Satoru ate the cheesecake you hid in your mini fridge —

Whenever little name gets her strings pulled by Satoru, she goes running off for Suguru to save her, right?

But it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about that.

“You need me to save you, name?” Suguru chuckles, and from the corner of your eye, you see him pull his hair loose, dark strands cascading over his shoulders.

“Gonna let him call you weak like that?” He chides, and the cool pad of Satoru’s thumb taps against your bottom lip twice, as if challenging you to say something – to give him your attention instead.

“Nah, don’t need a hero.” You whisper, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Toru might though.”

Suguru bites back a snicker, head tilting back as he draws in another inhale of smoke. “Aw, don’t bully him, name.”

Because love can burn

Like a cigarette

“C’mon, don’t look at him,” Satoru tilts your head in his grasp, a soft grin forming on his face, dimples on showcase. “Look at me.” He whispers, tugging you closer, and you have to tighten your grip on the neck of the bottle so it doesn’t slip, your palms sweating from the proximity.

“Satoru—”

“Don’t double back now, you laughed a bit too hard at me just now, y’know?”

You open your mouth to protest, shivering when the tip of your tongue grazes the pad of his thumb. Satoru makes a noise in the back of his throat, something between a groan and a scoff.

You wonder if the vodka made you imagine the way his pupils dilated. “Just ask the stupid question—” You try to turn your head away in vain, and this time, Suguru laughs at your expense.

“You ever been kissed before?”

And leave you with nothing

You stiffen, gaze snapping up to meet Satoru’s, only to find him dead serious.

Ofcourse you’ve been kissed before. But not like that— not like—

Like… oh no…

And if you start to kiss—

You bring the bottle of vodka to your lips, and both boys watch with amused gazes, and hint of something you don’t have a name for yet.

“You could’ve just—” Satoru’s hand falls loose over your shoulder as you take a swig, and Suguru shifts forward in curiosity. “—said no.”

“Nobody’s kissed you?” Suguru echoes and you grimace from the alcohol and the sheer embarrassment, shoving the open bottle to stand in the space between Satoru’s legs.

“Your turn,” you grumble, wiping remnants of the sweet liquor from your mouth with the back of your palm.

And the record skips—

Satoru and Suguru exchange a look, one you immediately assume is them reading each other’s minds and gearing up to laugh in your face.

Truly, you wouldn’t blame them — because here you are about to graduate in a year and still haven’t gotten your first kiss.

And it’s not like you haven’t like… gotten close to it— it’s just that the circumstances are never perfect and other things always get involved and you get all in your head and your mind just starts to do the thing—

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, and your palms go clammy, folded over your lap. “We don’t care about it, it’s nothing.” He whispers.

“Pretty sure there’s nobody who even deserves to kiss you anyway.” You glance over to Suguru, who’s already outing his cigarette and scooting closer.

Flip it over

And sit a little closer

If anything, it makes you swell with shame rather than comfort.

“Not like that, I didn’t mean—”

“Great job, Suguru—”

“As if you were doing any better—”

And despite yourself, you chuckle. They’re idiots. God, they’re fools.

Now, how many men have you kissed?

Satoru’s fingers dip under the collar of your shirt, playing around with the loose thread.

They made you laugh, that’s enough for him, always has been. He knows Suguru feels the same, but why… why doesn’t he feel satisfied with just that? Like there's something else he should be doing?

“Not fair,” he mumbles beneath his breath, cheeks flushed as he slumps forward, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You think he might be past his drinking limit, he always gets all babbly like this when he is.

“Not fair?” Suguru questions, resting a hand over his knee.

“Yeah, ‘s just not fair — who wouldn’t wanna kiss her?”

“I’m literally right here—”

“Keep listening then, it’s not like I’m lying or nothing.”

You’re not strong like Satoru and Suguru.

You’d say you’re not as beautiful either, or eve half as smart sometimes – you never compare yourselves to them but in the great grand scheme of things— you’ve never wanted to be kissed anyway, not by anyone you don’t feel for.

Not by someone who doesn’t know you in the ways you don’t want to be known.

Very few

In the way you know Satoru hates alcohol, but he only ever drinks it when you and Suguru are around. The way Suguru never likes taking pictures but manages a smile when you and Satoru pull him in for a group photo.

“If I kissed you, I’d never stop.” Suguru breathes, laying back on the bed, rumble of a sigh leaving his lips.

But you offered me a kiss

In the way they both know what you’re thinking before you even say it. The way grocery runs, 24 hour mart stops, week long missions, midnight talks, belly laughs and breaching curfew feels like a love language – something only the three of you speak – like something so foreign yet so familiar.

Why?

“I don’t think I’d remember to breathe again if I kissed you.” Satoru grumbles in the crook of your neck, somewhere between a yawn and whine. “You could have anyone you want, name, a whole line full of kisses…”

“Never really wanted to be kissed to be honest,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, your eyelids drooping shut.

Such a foolish reason, I’m afraid.

I just wanted… to kiss you.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk x reader

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odxrilove · 3 months

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pairing: neighbor!wonbin x f!reader

genre: neighbors to lovers, babysitting!au (kinda)

warnings: reader has a baby brother, mentions of reader blushing, 2k

a/n: my first riize fic ^^ i hope yall enjoy this hehe

back to masterlist !

“you know, you shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“yn.”

wonbin’s tone is stern and you cross your arms, letting out a loud huff to show your discontentment. from your position in the kitchen, you can stare at your neighbor-turned-babysitter all day, but you’re currently angry, so you opt to pout and grumble instead.

you can clearly hear wonbin sigh in defeat and you watch him lean back on his arms on the floor from the corner of your eye. he’s a few feet away from your little brother, giving him enough space to draw in his coloring book.

the handsome boy (you’re angry, but not blind) turns to you, black hair perfectly framing his stupidly pretty face. your eyes fall to his lips for a second. one second too long apparently because soon he starts to grin and you have no other option than to look away and pout again.

a chuckle leaves his mouth and it annoys you more than it should.

he tilts his head a bit and looks at you, eyes raking over your casual outfit. you’re really trying to not look his way, simply because you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing your attention is on him but you’re still curious as to why he seems more concentrated on you than on his job.

don’t look.

your hand covers your mouth as you spin your pen with your fingers, swiftly clicking on it before writing a new sentence in your notebook, elbow propped up on the kitchen island.

all the while you flip a few pages in your textbook to get to a new chapter of history, wonbin hums, high fiving your brother when the latter shows him his colorful drawing.

you swear you’re not paying attention, but the way you can hear him smiling as he speaks softly makes your face burn, ears turning red. he’s good with kids, and although you’re supposed to be pissed at your parents– and thus him– you can’t help but admit he’s doing a good job.

you would have done a good job too, you tell yourself.

your hand stills over the counter, pen inches away from the paper. in not even one second, you went from being productive and finally getting some homework done to thinking about wonbin and his pretty eyes.

you hate this, because you swear you’re angry at him. or at least you’re supposed to.

deep down you know that the so-called hatred you have for him right now is a way to stop you from thinking about what you really feel for your neighbor.

gosh, his eyes are just so pretty.

maybe you’re overreacting a bit too. maybe you’re being a bit dramatic, because the way wonbin starts to frown as he notices your brows furrow makes your heart throb.

you had decided to sit at the kitchen island to do your homework, because the kitchen table seemed a bit too close to the living room. but now that you’re actually in the kitchen, you realize you’re facing him (and your little brother, of course) and if you’d even look up for one second, eye contact would be guaranteed.

this sucks, you think, as you slide off the barstool and wander deeper into the kitchen. maybe if you’d fake looking for something to eat in the fridge, he would finally look away.

without really being thirsty, you grab the first carton you find and move to pour yourself a glass of whatever said carton contains. ah, apple juice it is.

you think you’re finally starting to get more comfortable in your own home after wonbin’s arrival but then he lets out a giggle– one that you find absolutely adorable too– and your lips freeze on the brim of your glass, head snapping towards the living room. “what.” you almost bark out, eyes fierce.

“it’s nothing,” wonbin has to swallow a laugh and divert his eyes, waving his hand in front of his. “don’t worry about it!”

you put your glass down on the counter and put a hand on your hip, eyes big and confused. “tell me,” you just watch as he lets out another giggle at your desperate tone, “c’mon! i’m gonna think you’re making fun of me if you don’t tell me.”

“your slippers,” this time wonbin looks at you, really looks at you. he sees how your eyes go wide and how your nose twitches in surprise. he sees how your lips fall open and gape at him and he sees how eyelashes flutter when you blink rapidly. he speaks up again, still looking at you, “they’re cute.” you’re cute.

“ah,” you nod, a bit surprised.

“you can compliment me back, y’know”

“i can literally kick you out right now.”

wonbin only puts his two hands up, a teasing smile clear on his lips as he admits defeat.

–

it’s slowly getting darker outside, the sun disappearing behind the houses in your neighborhood.

you’re on the last page of your essay when wonbin closes the living room curtains and finally agrees to your brother’s request of watching his favorite film. you find it rather domestic, how he’d hauled your brother from the floor to the couch and how he’d draped your blanket over the both of them.

the disney film is on pause as your brother babbles about his classmates, excitedly recounting yesterday’s events. you go to turn on the stove to prepare dinner and smile to yourself when your brother mentions the solar planet you had helped him make for his science fair. you smile even bigger when wonbin applauds him and makes him promise to show him one day, because he has to see how good you two are (his words).

when the water is boiling in the pot and you’ve stacked and pushed aside all your school work to prepare for dinner, you don’t directly realize you set the table for three until wonbin points it out, leaning casually against the fridge.

“i didn’t know i was invited for dinner.”

you shrug in an effort to act as casual as he is, but it comes off as rather stiff so you just turn away, mindlessly stirring the pasta. “well, i wouldn’t want you to starve. who else would my parents turn to when they’re in need of a babysitter?” certainly not me.

you’re clearly still a bit bitter that your parents don’t trust you to babysit your own brother.

wonbin just laughs, like he’s having the most fun knowing you’re irritated at him for replacing your “part-time job”. you send him a nasty glare and it only makes him chuckle more, obviously entertained by your displeasure.

he goes to lean on the counter next to you as he watches you do your magic, as per your brother’s words, and lightly bumps his elbow into yours. “c’mon, i know you’re not really mad at me for being here.”

you flick his crossed arms and check to see if the pasta is not overcooked. “i just don’t understand why they’d waste money to get a babysitter for him when i literally exist and live here!” okay, so maybe you’re not being hundred percent honest and are more pissed about the babysitter being wonbin than the waste of money but he doesn’t have to know that.

wonbin continues to stare at your face, tracing your side profile with his eyes. “i offered to babysit, and your dad knows i’ve been saving up for a car...” his smile is teasing when he shrugs as you send him a glare.

“and what if i was saving up for a car? you’d be ruining my chances to do so.” you’re stubborn and not letting go.

your neighbor, who’s actually way too close to you for your liking (you’re sure he can count your beauty marks with how close he is) stifles a laugh. “we both know you’re not saving up for a car,” his voice insists on the ‘not’ and you know he sees you rolling your eyes. “besides, you don’t need one.”

the pasta looks good as you go to grab two oven mitts, glancing at wonbin from the corner of your eye. you’re confused and he knows because not even a second later and he’s grabbing the oven mitts from your hands and carrying the pasta to the kitchen table. “i can always just drive you around, y’know. contrary to what you think, i do actually enjoy your presence, babe.”

when his words register in your brain, you can’t seem to move from your spot in the kitchen and wonbin finds it all too cute, smiling while ushering your little brother to sit at the end of the table.

babe. babe? “babe?” your fingers find wonbin’s hand, wrapping slowly around his wrist when he walks past you to get some glasses. he stops in his tracks, tilting his head a bit and smirking at your surprised gaze and vulnerable tone.

he just nods, the top of his cheeks blushing only for a fraction of a second. unbeknownst to you, his heart is beating like crazy. “shouldn’t i have called you that? you don’t like it?”

you shake your head, still startled from him calling you by an affectionate nickname, something he had never done before and something you would have never guessed he would ever do.

“It’s alright,” you say, voice suddenly shakier than usual, “i didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

your fingers let go of his wrist but he doesn’t directly move away, staring at the way your other hand is holding tightly onto the kitchen counter. he notices how you’re reaching for the utensils but your mind is focusing on something else, your fingers absentmindedly pulling the kitchen drawer open.

suddenly, wonbin feels a pang of guilt. he can’t seem to decipher what the expression on your face means but he’s worried he might have gone too far, or that you’re too far gone in your head.

“hey,” his voice startles you out of your thoughts, “are you sure it’s okay? i can stop if you want–”

“no!-” your panicked tone startles him a bit and you clear your throat, fiddling with one of the rings on your fingers, “i mean, i– i didn’t mind it? i quite liked it.”

wonbin’s eyes widen a bit, surprised but thrilled. “oh.”

“yeah.”

the short awkward silence between the two of you gets interrupted by your younger brother’s complaints, and you quickly move past wonbin to serve the youngest one in the house a big plate of spaghetti (his favorite).

it’s only when you’re seated at the table that you realize wonbin’s marched over and took your plate, serving you before him. he looks almost ethereal under the warm kitchen lights and you can’t help but stare, this time not caring about getting caught.

the pasta looks extra good when he puts your plate down in front of you and your stomach grumbles at the sight, earning a slight chuckle from the boy in front of you.

your baby brother’s focus is entirely on his dinosaur shaped fork, which wonbin takes as an opportunity to reach over the table and grab your hand, drawing a stifled gasp out of you. his thumb is rubbing circles on the back of your palm and your hand feels heavy but comfortable in his grasp.

your gaze travels from your intertwined fingers to his face and you almost melt at the soft look in his eyes. it almost looks like he’s in love.

he is, but you don’t know that. yet.

“let me take you out on a date, please.”

the way his voice gets stuck in his throat and his tone gets breathier tells you everything you have to know and you squeeze his hand lightly in a comforting manner. he anxiously bites the inside of his cheek while he waits for your answer and he’s glad you don’t see his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

“i would love to, wonbin.” your cheeks turn red and your lips automatically curl, revealing the smile wonbin likes so much.

the stress leaves his body the second the words leave your mouth and he suppresses a nervous laugh, free hand coming up to push his hair back.

“yeah?”

“of course,” your smile is contagious when you nod, “how could i say no to you?”

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#k-labels #riize #riize x reader #riize fics #riize headcanons #riize imagines #riize wonbin #riize wonbin x reader #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #! music articles .. 💿

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peterspinkrobe · 10 months

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Communion | AU Priest Miguel O’Hara x female Reader

A/N: I commissioned the above Priest Miguel. Ever since the artist sent the sketch, (@ ejpuki on twitter plz go show love!) this story has been a brewin’ in my cranium. I am not a newbie when it comes to fanfic, but a virgin to writing Miguel. Please accept this offering to the mania that is fandom. Feedback is appreciated. I know the tenses are probably all over the place. Part 2 is live!!. Let me know if you’re interested ~~

Warnings: Religious content, parents, dirty-minded reader, no mention of Y/N

As you sat in the middle pew, aisle seats, you fiddled with the dress your mother guilted you into wearing. The hem of the skirt had a little fraying and you couldn’t help but pick at it.

The meddling was met with a small smack on your wrist from your mother.

“Stop! You’re going to make it worse! I know it’s an old dress but it will only look that way if you pick at it.” The sharpness in tone and the lacy lilac dress from high school brought you back to all of the Sunday mornings you’d been ripped from the comfort of your bed to attend church.

Church. Your head was already starting to hurt from the early morning light pouring through the stained glasses windows, but your tried to remain neutral to spare mom.

Your relationship with the Almighty soured not long after your father passed. Faith was hard to come by and the struggles you’d faced recently only strained that even further.

“Sorry, mama.” You say quietly, acting like you’re still twelve and not in your mid twenties.

Ever since you moved back in you’ve had to live under “her rules”. Sunday service is one of those rules. Considering the headache you’ve caused her recently, you ignore your own and do as she asks. It’s only fair.

But church? Last week was your first time back inside a church since leaving for college five years ago. It was the same one you’d been dragged to in your younger years. The same stained pews, same old books of Psalms, same feeling of estrangement despite being surrounded by the same old folks.

Your mom had turned her attention to the lady that lived on our street and you turned your own attention to your fingernails, scraping underneath them for dirt that wasn’t there. You think about how you had dropped the habit until moving back in, but was interrupted by microphone static.

You pulled your gaze to the front of the church and saw Father Steen tapping the microphone. Despite only being five years since you last saw him, the man seemed to have aged decades. His frail frame balanced on the podium as he spoke. You realized why the microphone was needed when he started speaking - amplifying the hushed tone of the elder addressing his congregation.

“Good morning and many blessings to you all this Sunday morning,” he began and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze back to the frayed bit of your dress. His monotone voice was… kinda boring. You hated thinking that way because Father Steen was such a good man and he cared for your mother greatly when dad passed. He was mentioning an upcoming surgery and you were back to picking at your fingernails. His voice eked on through the speakers, “so we will be having a transitional deacon come in to take over my position until I recover. This fine young man has graciously accepted this position as he is working to become a priest himself. Please welcome Mr. O’Hara as he leads us in prayer to begin communion for this month.”

There is respectful applause and your eyes are still on your hands until your mom elbows you gently. You start to apologize again for not paying attention but notice she and her pew neighbor are giggling as they clap. You start to clap your own hands as you look up at what they were giggling like schoolgirls about when your hands freeze in their clapped position - almost like you’re praying.

The deacon that Father Steen introduced was… gorgeous, and he was looking at you. You blushed, embarrassingly, under the gaze of the dark eyes. Could he tell you hadn’t been paying attention?

Well, you most certainly were now.

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at your mother who was wiggling her eyebrows at you, causing you to blush even deeper and turn back to the front.

The first thing you notice about the man standing at the front of the church was his height. He towered over the podium he placed a hand on. Father Steen came up to only just above his elbows with his hunched body.

The eyes that were watching you now surveyed the room and the light from the windows shown dark, warm pools of irises. His face…

Sharp symmetry made up his countenance. Distinct cheekbones bobbing as the smooth bronze skin stretched upwards into a smile. The strong jawline accentuated with the muscles of his lips pulling back, revealing a dazzling toothy smile.

When he spoke for the first time, you understood why your mom cried during Psalms at times. His voice was gospel.

“Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your parish. I know that you have received excellent spiritual guidance from Father Steen. I can only hope to at least partially fill his shoes in his absence.” His voice boomed throughout the church with no need for a microphone. “Before we begin the sacred ritual that is communion, let us bow our heads in prayer.”

The church around you dutifully lowered their heads, and you did the same. Hating closing your eyes to the alluring man in front of the church. At least his voice still filled your ears with song.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today, in your house, in the name of your Son to receive the Body and Blood of Christ…” you decide it won’t be such a terrible sin to sneak a peek during prayer. You lift your head up to catch another glimpse at the ethereal creature leading prayer while he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. Right at you as he continued to recite, “We are all sinners, and we are all in need of your grace and forgiveness.” You start to think about how much you needed his grace, when you pinch yourself for the blasphemy.

You’re still staring at each other as he finishes, “We pray that You will bless this communion and that it will deepen our relationships with You.” You instantly feel heat in your gut when you wonder just how deep it can go..

You think you see him grin slightly, but he pulls his eyes away from yours and you quickly put your head back down.

“In Your Blessed Name, Amen.” He ends. “Amen”, the church responds in unison and you squeak it out as well.

The first pew stands and approaches the front of the church, choir boys retrieving the communion goods. You notice that there is a split in the line as one is given the small wafer and grape juice shot by Father Steen and the other line the new deacon.

You can’t keep your eyes off him as he offers the sacrament to each person in line. He is taking longer than Father Steen, seeming to ask questions before presenting the body and blood of a savior.

As it came to be your pew’s turn, you stood. With only a few people in front of you, you studied Miguel’s figure in short glances.

Along with being a towering figure, he was a wide one as well. Muscles filled in the long-sleeved black button down shirt. His large upper body tapered off into a slim waist, tucked neatly into dark pants. A belt accentuated the fit waist even further. Your eyes trailed quickly across the thick neck that was accessorized by the all too familiar white collar of priesthood. When you were just behind one more person, your eyes fell to the floor.

Part of you wished you would be on Father Steen’s side as you feel as though you’re about to burst from this proximity of the giant man. He was bent over speaking to an elder of the church, giving her a soft smile as she blessed him for coming to ‘our little church.’

The man in line in front of you stood to Father Steen and the woman was letting Mr. O’Hara go from a sweet embrace.

Thank God, you guessed, for the years of attending communion as your muscle memory tore your legs from their form rooted position at the altar.

You approached the tall figure and your eyes are locked on the lips of the man in front of you. You see them move, hearing nothing but the beating of your heart in your eardrums.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” You sputter the words and heat creeps into your chest and face.

A soft chuckle escapes his full lips and he smiles as he repeats, “What is your name?”

You give it to him. And he says it. The way your name sounds in his music makes you smile up at him. He holds your gaze for a moment before speaking again.

“The Body of Christ.” He extends his hand in an upward position, the white wafer between his index finger and thumb.

You bow your head slightly in reverence of the offering. As you start to pull your head up again, his pinky and ring finger catch under your chin, lifting your face the rest of the way.

You breathe out a small gasp and open your mouth. He seems to mirror the action slightly as his own mouth drops slightly open. You extend your tongue a little as he places the thin wafer onto it.

His gaze is heavy as he watches you take the offering into your mouth. Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb across your pouted bottom lip, catching some saliva with it.

“Amen.” You respond and it’s not until he pulls his hand from your face when you turn to grab a small glass of grape juice. “The Precious Blood.” You hear him say behind you as you bring the glass to your lips, relishing the sweet refreshment.

Your face is red hot as you turn to walk back to your pew, ignoring your mother’s glances as she had already been back to her seat.

The burning in your cheeks is even more fiery as it dawns on you that the whole church saw the exchange. You hope, you pray, that it was perceived as a normal moment between a new Shepard and a member of his flock.

Communion wraps up and Father Steen takes a seat behind the the new head of church as he begins his sermon. The slight pressure of his thumb on your bottom lip created a pool of heat in your belly that wouldn’t go away.

You try to pay attention to the Good Word, you really do, but your mind is other places. Definitely not holy places.

Maybe coming to church won’t be too bad after all…

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #priest au #atsv miguel #miguel x you #how do i even tag this #fanfic #spiderverse fanfic

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word-wytch · 7 months

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 15

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 15/? 10k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ The aftermath of a kiss makes thoughts come alive — both desires and fears.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: smut 18+ (imagined oral f!receiving, piv, creampie), cumming in pants, angst

Wednesday, December 11th 1985

The flag was whipping in the wind. Towering above the parking lot in a blur of red, white, and blue, it cracked against the pale grey sky.

Meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror, you checked for any obvious signs of guilt. The harsh morning light made it clear what you’d missed in your haste to leave. You thought you had gotten it all, but the mascara resting in the lines beneath your eyes said otherwise. Truthfully, washing your face had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled home after midnight, and it was clear you needed more than the five minutes you allotted this morning in front of the sink. After sleeping through your alarm, it was a miracle you were here at all. Swiping your knuckles across the bags under your eyes, you figured that would have to do.

With a final, bracing sigh, you opened the door and slumped into the freezing cold. Slamming the door, you marched across the snow-dusted pavement and hiked the heavy leather strap onto your shoulder. Students scattered around you with bright colored backpacks, rushing from their cars toward the squat, concrete building that loomed on the horizon. Eyes steeled on the glass doors ahead, you swallowed a sickness rising up from the pit of your stomach. Pebbles crunched under your boots as you dodged glances, offering little more than a timid smile and a raise of your hand at the greetings hurled your way.

Pulling open the chilled metal handle, that school smell—indescribable yet unmistakable—gusted hotly over your numb cheeks. The office was abuzz with shrill ringing phones and gently chiding voices. Eyes glued to the long, grey weather mat below, you approached the clock-in station.

“Good morning!” the receptionist greeted cheerfully at the back of your head.

“Morning, Judy,” you offered weakly, selecting your punch card from its wooden slot on the wall. With a shaking hand, you slotted the index card into the machine, lining it up with this week’s row of black-inked numbers. It snapped to life, stamping today’s date in a crooked line beneath the rest.

Tucking your thumb under the strap, you trudged along your usual path, raising your eyes just enough to see where you were going. Fluorescents danced over the polished tile, over the shimmering salt-stained boot marks and stray pebbles you were suddenly so captivated by. Past the glass trophy cases, inside the cafeteria, you crossed the row of principal portraits from years prior outside the teachers lounge. It was difficult to look at them today, the judgement painted so clearly on their features from inside their thick, ornate frames. Their eyes seemed to follow you as you passed. Dodging their scorn, you ducked inside the door.

Your soles met the padding of the threadbare carpet, marching toward the one thing you truly depended on, stationed at its post on the end of the long, veneer table — the coffee machine. The room was spinning with activity, a bustle of chatter you hoped you could hide in. Most were on their way out, making small talk and gathering belongings from their seats at the round tables. Your skirt swished forward as you halted before the machine, tapping the cuff of your tall boots. Grabbing a mug from the stack, you filled it with haste.

You wondered if anyone could smell it on you — the cigarette smoke that clung to your coat. Shrinking down into your turtleneck, you sidestepped to return the pot to the warmer.

“Good morning,” stated a voice behind you with cold professionalism.

The plastic slipped in your hand, coffee hissing against the metal plate as you fumbled it into place. “Principal Higgins! H-hi—good morning!”

She always terrified you, even as a student here. Even before last night. Standing all of about four foot ten, her stern, nun-like demeanor and white cloud of hair remained consistent with your memory, as if she had reached a point in her aging where she just plateaued.

“How are you?” she asked. Not as though she really cared, just as something polite to say.

Whipping around as the blood drained from your face, you addressed her. “Good! I’m good. Just getting things wrapped up for the semester. You know how it is.”

She nodded curtly. “Glad to hear,” she answered, though nothing about her expression seemed glad. It never did. You thought you saw her smile once in September, but it could have been a trick of the light. Smiling weakly at the floor, you dipped around her and shuffled toward the open milk carton. The air was thick and stuffy, filling your lungs in shallow draws. Peeling back the soggy cardboard, you swallowed your hammering pulse.

“Hey stranger,” Diane greeted warmly, grabbing a mug from beside you. “You ready for winter break yet?”

Fixed on the coffee as the milk swirled like smoke, you couldn’t find the courage to meet her eyes. “I’ve been ready since October,” you admitted through a strained chuckle.

Diane tipped her head back, laughing into the fluorescents. “Oh man I feel ya, I’ve been counting down the days myself.” Steam rose from her mug as she filled it.

There must have been a sign on your back. Something like kick me. A bump from behind had you lurching into the table, sloshing coffee over the rim. Snapping your head over your shoulder, you glared at the culprit.

“Jeez it’s crowded in here,” muttered Ms. O’Donnell as she lumbered over to the coffee machine. “Everyone mingling like a flock of hens, you’d think we’d all have places to be by now.”

With a sharp sigh, you grabbed a handful of flimsy napkins from beside the sugar. Diane glanced in brief annoyance before reaching through your line of sight for the milk carton. “So, did you catch Cheers last night?”

You froze, heat creeping up the collar of your coat as the coffee bled through the paper. Images of sweating glasses on cocktail napkins and plush lips clouded your vision as you blotted up the mess with a trembling hand. “No I uh, turned in early I’m afraid.” Your stomach curdled with the lie.

“Aww, well you’ll have to catch it on re-run because it was a good one. I won’t spoil anything,” Diane said, bringing the mug to her lips as she leaned against the table.

Grabbing the handful of warm, soggy napkins, you pivoted to toss them in the trash. Finally, she caught you with her eyes. Rich umber, deep with caring and kindness, captive for anyone who needed a good listener, for you on so many occasions. Diane was good like a cashmere cardigan, like a box of tissues passed across a desk. Your eyes met the floor again quickly, heat rising in your face. You shuddered to imagine what she’d think if she knew.

The room became a blur of scooting chairs, of vending machines whirring, of crackers and candy dropping into the bins below. Metal flaps whined and slammed as hands reached in to grab them. It was closing in on you — the copy machine ink wafting warmly across the room as it spat out stacks of tests, the hole punchers clicking and binders snapping open to devour papers with their jagged maws. You stood there in the middle of it all, spinning like you’d stepped out of a carnival ride.

Diane leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You ok?”

Blinking rapidly, you snapped back to attention. “Yeah—yeah I’m fine.”

Folding her arms across her sweater, she knit her brows in disbelief. As the school counselor, it was her job to see through bullshit, and she was good at her job. Before she could comment, the bell had your stomach lurching. “I have to go,” you said with as much of a casual farce as you could muster. “I’ll see you later.” You grabbed your mug, shielding your face with it as you sipped off the top before vanishing into the hallway.

The AV cart was heavy despite its wheels. Avoiding your tired reflection in the glass of the large television, you braced the metal frame and peered around it, marching carefully down the crowded hallway. At least you had something to hide behind now.

There were footsteps all around you, weaving to accommodate the metal mass as you trudged slowly forward. What became unignorable was the set behind you, shuffling down the hall at an increasing speed, growing louder as they neared. Eddie halted just behind your shoulder, bumping it slightly in his haste. “Hey,” he breathed in your ear, curls tickling your cheek.

Sucking in a breath, you whipped your head around to meet his crinkling eyes. If he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “Eddie,” you hissed. “Get—” you elbowed him away, heart pounding into your temples as a hundred eyes passed by around you.

He didn’t seem phased. Hovering at an uncomfortable proximity, his focus stayed glued to you as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “Here,” he offered, reaching over to take the reins. The meat of his palms grazed your knuckles; warm and pliant like you remembered them.

“I’ve got it,” you insisted, gaze dutifully forward, gripping the metal frame firmly.

“Come on, let me help,” he muttered, leather forearms insisting against yours as he tugged the cart in his direction.

Face fully on fire now, you released your grip, repelling with a twinge of remorse from the solid contact of his shoulder. Head darting left and right, you scouted for faculty, keeping a steady pace beside him. Not so close as to draw suspicion, but close enough to feel his magnetism prickle your awareness. His fingers pinked under his rings, knuckles white in his grip as the strong angles of his hands kept the cart from veering. “It’s um—” Eddie started, dipping his head toward your ear again, “good to see you again,” he uttered with a fervency that could have evaporated you.

“Happy Wednesday!” chimed Ms. Click as she waved you down from outside her door.

The blood drained from your face. Raising a trembling hand, you returned a weak smile before locking your vision on the end of the hall. It was closing in again; the lockers, the voices, the squeaking of wet boots against the tile. There was the potent scent of cigarettes, fresh on his hair like the snowflakes that clung to his curls. They were melting, dripping down his wild ringlets onto his shoulders with every step. It was beautiful, the way they bounced and swayed in the wind as he walked. The way the droplets settled in the wrinkles of his leather coat. The way it tapered toward his narrow waist. As he braced the cart, you selfishly admired the angles of his shoulders — broad and capable. Selfishly, you wondered what else they could accomplish, how they would feel, bare under your palms. Crossing your arms coyly over your turtleneck, you snatched your mind from the gutter.

Eddie lolled his head toward you, peering under heavy lids. His smile was lazy and generous, brimming with boyish glee. “God you look pretty today,” he sighed. Your uterus beat your stomach to a backflip.

Halting outside the door to your classroom, you turned to face him. “Eddie, we can’t—” your desert mouth hung open as those soft umber eyes ushered your words into the din.

“I’m allowed to talk to you,” he asserted, shifting to the fullness of his height as he dropped his hands from the cart.

“Not like that. Not here,” you corrected, just above a whisper.

Brow lowering, he swiped his coat aside to access his hip, resting his hand above the chain that dripped toward his thigh. It was suffocating — the heat from his gaze, from your turtleneck, from the thoughts hammering like pinballs against the inside of your skull.

“Listen, I just…” you swallowed, “it’s just—” you glanced around, meeting the waves and bright hellos that passed through your door with a vacant smile before lowering your voice, “—hard to be back here today.”

Eddie tipped his head forward, shifting on the balls of his feet with a subtle nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

You huffed through your nose, eyes pleading with him as you shrank toward your door.

“I’ll see you later,” he promised, drifting in by an invisible tether with every inch you moved away.

“Yeah.” Your exhale was heavy, lingering in his gaze for an aching second before ducking through the threshold.

______

The static from the television prickled your forehead as you rewound the tape, fussing with the buttons on the VHS player seated on the shelf below it. The screen fizzled grey as as your fourth period class filed in, shuffling feet and relieved exclamations echoing behind you as they passed.

You could have left it alone and walked away, but you would take any excuse not to face them today. Leaning against the cart as you stared into the crackling static, that telltale scent wafted in on the air, tugging at memories of smoke rings and stage lights, filling you with equal parts dread and aching familiarity. You could see his silhouette out of the corner of your eye; tall and dark with a halo of frizz, boots heavy against the tile as he approached you. Swallowing your rising pulse, you couldn’t help but indulge for a second, shifting just enough to catch the soft pink of his smirk before his shoulder nudged yours in passing. Desks squeaked against the floor behind you, yielding to the weight of twenty students as they filled the five tidy rows. When the bell finally rang, you shut the door and mustered the courage to address them.

None of your classes were studying To Kill A Mockingbird. Irrelevant as it was to your lessons, you would excuse it to all of them by citing it as a great example of storytelling. Weak, but it was the best you could come up with on such short notice. You doubted anyone cared, they all seemed just as relieved as you were for a break from the fluorescents.

You flicked off the lights and pressed play on the VCR. The room was bathed in white and blue as the opening credits rolled, and you took your place behind the big desk. Propping your head wearily against your hand, you stared down at the sea of white below you. Eyes unfocused, black ink and graphite chicken scratch blurred together as a different film played out behind them.

The set was dramatically lit; a spotlight of interrogation that beamed down on your small chair facing Martha Higgins’ desk. The props were hyper-realistic; files she flipped through with her spindly, arthritic fingers containing your teaching license and contract for the year. The prominent lines on her forehead were growing increasingly severe as she considered the delivery of your inevitable punishment.

A jungle of items framed the papers that sprawled across your real desk — the spider plant Susan had given you when the leaves were beginning to blush with oranges and reds, the stapler you’d had since college, the mug with a quill printed on it which now held your pens. You wondered what it would feel like to pack them all into a banker box in the middle of a winter afternoon. To lug it down the hallway, dodging the scorn of your former colleagues. With a heavy sigh, you buried your spinning head in your hand.

Eddie was seated as he always was, cheek pressed to his knuckles as he watched you from his corner of the room. A straight shot toward your desk in front of him, he gazed with reverence as the white light from the television bathed your one exposed cheekbone in a holy glow. Picking at the chipped veneer on the desk with his restless thumb, he recounted the feeling of it in his hands. The angle of your jaw, the notch where it met below your ear, the soft skin of your throat that hummed beneath the pads of his frozen digits, warming them to life with every swell and swallow as his mouth enveloped yours. He’d played it over and over the whole drive home, every moment since he’d opened his eyes this morning, convincing himself with every replay that it wasn’t a dream.

He’d gotten a taste. Not enough to satisfy him — the opposite really. Like first bites often did, it only brought awareness to his hunger. The light played softly on your stiffened jaw. How he ached soothe it with his lips again, to feel the hard bone under supple skin, to hear and taste your sighs again; more moving than any music he’d ever heard.

The darkness gave quiet permission for his mind to play a film of its own. In this one, the room would be the same. Just as dark but empty, save for you and him. He would scale the isle in five swift steps. Lifting your worried chin with his knuckle, he would draw you to the fullness of your height, capture your body in his arms and pull you into a searing kiss. He knew what it felt like now, and that only fueled his wild imagination. He knew you’d melt like putty, let him be the only thing holding you together, keeping you from falling to the floor with the strength of his arms around your soft cotton waist.

He had memorized the shape of your lips, how slick with hunger they were as they slipped against his. Your hums would be quiet here, timid and shy as you glanced over his shoulder toward the door with worried eyes. On this set there were no real hallways, no extras making noise or slamming lockers. Nothing in the script suggesting an interruption, only the pretend risk that made a thrill rise in him like the tent in his jeans. The way you would shyly toy with the pins on his vest, insisting that “we shouldn’t,” and “it’s just not right.”

You wouldn’t protest for long, not in this script. Not when his teeth found your neck again, dipping down below the collar of your turtleneck. It was a nuisance really, nothing but a sponge for his spit as his tongue soothed over where his teeth left off. You would be needing it later because he would leave a mark this time. Several, tasting every moan you offered as he sucked bruises onto your delicate skin. He hadn’t tasted nearly enough of you, hadn’t felt nearly as much as he’d wanted.

Closing his eyes, he surfaced a touch-memory; the shape of you beneath your coat. He imagined the slope of your waist in his hands as it looked like today; where the cotton met the wool of your skirt, heaving against his palms as he left his sloppy trail. Impatiently, he would free you from the confines of it, tug at the cotton and greet your warm, soft flesh with his aching fingers. You, of course, would give him full permission to remove it once you felt the insistence of his touch, felt his thumb drag over the small of your back, across that dip he caught a glance of last night.

Tugging the cloying barrier up and over your head, he would shield you from the door with his body, letting the mass of the AV cart block any eyes wandering the hall from what he was about to do next. In the soft, flickering light from the television, your chest would rise and fall, spilling over from your white lace bra as it heaved in anticipation.

The real you sank deeper into your chair. Shoulders slumped, shielding your eyes with your knuckles as you stared blankly down into the sea of papers. There was a heat emanating from the back corner of the room, one you could feel with the crown of your head. You knew exactly where it was coming from, and from whom. Hesitant as you were to address him, it was burning too hot to ignore, boring into you with a palpable insistence. With a swift, upward glance, you faced off.

Eddie’s lids were heavy, cheeks pinking at the sudden confrontation. He licked his lips, eyes darkening as he swallowed. You could almost feel them again, cradling yours in a phantom kiss just like they did fourteen hours ago. His mouth had been so needy. So hot and plush, tongue slipping against yours like he’d been starving.

Eddie closed his eyes in a slow blink. When he opened them again, they were so heavy with want that it rippled from across the room, shooting straight between your legs. You’d never been kissed like that before. Kissed so hard it robbed you of your senses, of your oxygen, of your goodness. It was easy to imagine; doing it again. Especially when he was looking at you like that.

You indulged for just a moment, joined him in the scene. Alone together in the dark, empty room. It was easy to imagine what those lips would feel like going further; sucking your collar bone, grazing it with his teeth, trailing his sopping mouth to the place where your neck meets your shoulder before his calloused thumb slipped the strap of your bra to the side.

Wringing a hand behind your neck, you glanced toward the television with a sudden feigned interest. The feeling wouldn’t leave you though; clouding your mind with wet smacking lips and the chill of the air at your nipples.

He knew they would be perfect. He could just tell. They would heave beneath his watering mouth, puckered and primed for him to latch. Capturing one of them in his wet heat, you would melt into his waiting arms. Back arched, mewling so needy and loud it would cause the door to open if the scene was real. He was certain he’d be able to taste your hums through your skin here too. Even better perhaps.

Eddie shifted in his seat with a mild grimace, hand darting beneath his desk in time with a swift raise of his hips as chair legs scraped the tile. He glanced at his lap, then back up at you.

Your face became a roaring furnace, paling only to the heat pooling under you. The pale television light flickered across his flushed cheeks, his lowered brow, his smoldering eyes that held you captive. He wanted you to know. Indulging, you imagined what was going on under that desk. What it would look like if he were to stand, to scale the room in a few eager strides and show you up close.

“Need you now, Eddie,” you’d croon with a swipe of your hand up the generous bulge he was sporting, punctuating it with a pinch of his weeping head through the denim.

Eddie took his cue. In one dramatic swoop, the papers fluttered to the floor, the plant made a mess of the tile, the stapler clattered beside your shattered mug as pens rolled down the isles. Backing you into the edge of the big desk, he kissed you again. Hot and slick, body flush with yours, pressing his need against your pelvis as he probed your aching mouth. Parting only to shed himself of his outer layer, to lay it down behind you like a blanket, shielding your bare back from the cold wood.

From the confines of his small desk across the room, real Eddie took a deep breath, lids closing heavy on the inhale, fluttering open to a pained pout on the exhale.

Seating yourself on the edge of your desk on set, you would free him from the confines of his jeans. Pawing at his belt, you would tuck your fingers beneath it and tug urgently, rattling metal and leather before working his button free. Slowly, your nimble fingers would locate and lower his zipper, and a sigh would be the second thing that escaped.

You were an A-list actress, looking down at his proud length like you’d never seen a dick before in your whole life. The coyness with which you peered from under your lashes was thoroughly convincing. Oscar-worthy. With a timid, chalk-dusted finger, you would draw a line from base to tip, admiring the way it bobbed, the way your touch encouraged it to glisten. Real Eddie swallowed, drawing a deep, impatient breath. Convincing as you were of your innocence, he was certain those fingers would know what they were doing as they traced his ridges with a teasing curiosity.

Unable to take any more of it, his hands would find your knees; bare where the stockings left off. They would roam under your thick wool skirt, up those impossibly soft thighs and draw back the curtain as you braced yourself against the desk behind you. In this scene, of course, your costume called for nothing underneath. You would be ready for him. Back flush with his coat, legs spread, glistening with need in the pale light from the television behind him.

Impatient as he was, he would be remiss not take this opportunity to satisfy a curiosity of his own. Crouching down to level with your sex, he would take in your scent first. Breathe in your delicious, heady pheromones, let it cloud his vision further, as if there was room for anything else other than the persistent thought of you. Eddie wondered what you tasted like. Your mouth was exquisite, so what must you taste like here? With a generous swipe of his tongue, he would find the answer.

The real you crossed your legs tightly, as if that would stave off the throbbing between them. Real Eddie caught it, the shift in your seat, the subtle raise of your knee under your plaid skirt, the way you worried your lip with your teeth as you glanced shyly toward the papers still, unfortunately, on your desk.

What might his tongue feel like there? The question grappled for your attention despite futile attempts to shove it away. His tongue had a certain talent, you’d noticed, as it probed against yours in the dark last night. A sense of rhythm was a hard thing to teach. His tongue would be warm, you were certain of that, saliva slick as he pressed it flatly to your heat. He would take his time, savoring every groove and fold across this new terrain as if he were committing it to memory. Propping up on your elbows against the satin liner of his coat, you would catch those deep brown eyes, peering into yours with a smoldering hunger, lower lids pinching in pleasure as he drew slowly upward.

You would paw at the crown of his head, rake your fingers through his curls and tug, feeling his approving hum against your core. Halo of frizz tickling your thighs, his tongue would lathe slow and steady, closing those plush lips over your aching bud before sucking a kiss where you needed it most.

Exhaling deeply, you toyed with a pen on your desk; pressed your thumb into the cold metal nub, studied the tension a moment before releasing. Eyes unfocused, you were helpless as the film played out behind them. Click. Click. Click. Light flickered from the TV, twenty eyes distracted and oblivious. Throbbing, you shifted in your seat and caught the scent of your own arousal. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Never in your life had you been so grateful to be in the dark.

Try as you might to gleam a single chaste thought from the words printed below you, there was no space in your head for it. Just Eddie, crouched over you like a preying animal, looking at you with those lust-blown eyes like he’d make you his meal. Wrapping those ringed fingers around your hips, shifting his to meet them as he stood. You could almost feel it; his cockhead pressing with insistence at your entrance. Almost feel the safety of his shadow, how his curls would kiss his cheekbones as he hovered above you, how his lids would flutter as he pushed in. That deep, relieved sigh you would both breathe together as the long ache was soothed upon joining.

It was a moving picture.

From the back of the room, Eddie watched your face burrow into your hand; fingers splayed across your forehead and eyes, shoulders slumping on your ragged exhale. How desperately he itched to ease them with his hands, his teeth, his tongue. It was painful; his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Silently, he thanked himself for grabbing the black pair from the pile on the chair in his bedroom this morning, certain he was leaking through by now.

Slowly, he shifted his hips upward, relishing in the drag of the fabric against his sensitive head as it moved toward his waistband. He paused before tucking it, arching forward again with sinful fulfillment. It felt good. Too good. Good enough to do it again. The way the cotton raked against the heart-ridge of his cock, the way the stiff bend in his zipper hit that sweet spot when his hips canted forward.

Eddie glanced around the room, flushing furiously. All eyes were forward. No one seemed to notice. Gripping the edge of the desk, he continued to rock his hips; slow and quiet micro-movements, careful not to creak the plastic chair. The shrinking, logical part of his brain couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was a new low. Perverted, even for him. But the tension was mounting, becoming unbearable, and the relief it offered was enough to drown out the shame.

He bet you would be so tight. He could almost feel those gorgeous legs wrap around his waist, your boots crossing at the ankles behind him, drawing him closer as you whined from the stretch. He could almost see you bite your lip and knit your brows, feel your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as you adjusted to his size. He would go slow, knowing it’s been a while for you. You would clench and arch but take him so well as he inched his way to the hilt. Then, bracing against the wood, he would happily give you what you needed — jack hammer hard, rutting like an animal in heat. You would be sinfully wet. He bet you were right now, sitting up there with your legs crossed and head down. Pity it would go to waste. If he had it his way it would be dripping onto the desk, slicking his balls as those pretty, perfect tits of yours bounced with every snap of his hips.

The fabric was hitting him just right, scratching that itch with each flex of his cock against the dampened cotton. It was a slow mount, subtle and teasing, but it was enough. Anything would have been enough. A breeze. Eyes closed, forehead hung on the heel of his hand in feigned boredom, he imagined it what you would feel like under his thumb; rubbing that little button of yours that made you squirm and moan so deeply he could feel it from the inside.

The hardest part was steadying his breath. He supposed he couldn’t fault his body, it was just doing what was natural in a place he shouldn’t be doing it. He couldn’t fault his heart for hammering, or his hips from wanting to buck, or his hands for itching to expedite the relief. What he would give to crank the volume on the television, to draw a curtain and just get it over with. God forbid you wisened up to his antics, although the thought did send a jolt to his dick. He knew he should stop before he did something utterly shameful, but the spot he was hitting was just too sweet, a feeling he was helpless but to chase.

He would give you everything you ever wanted. With gritted teeth he would ream you until you came undone, make that pretty face of yours contort over and over as you writhed against the desk, howling his name into the drop ceiling. The slap of skin on skin would echo off the tile until he’d rendered you utterly stupid, which was difficult to do.

“You want it, huh?” he’d huff into your ear, peppered with nip of your lobe. “Want me? Want my cum?”

Tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, you’d mewl your answer. “Yes. Please.”

Slumping forward in his desk, Eddie buried his head in the crook of his arm. Fuck. His boots dug into the tile, thighs straining, lip pinched in his teeth, desperate to restrain the bucking of his hips. There was an animal inside him, tugging like a rubber band waiting to snap. His aching balls begged as they drew upward, cockhead so sensitive it could feel every stitch. Eddie burrowed his nose into the desk, both chasing the feeling and running from it.

He would show you how much of a man he was, paint you with proof on the inside. Remind you as it slicked your thighs with every click of your boots down the hall.

Huffing into the dark cocoon, his free hand gripped the metal legs below him, holding on for dear life as the wave approached its crest. Hips stuttering, breath fogging the desk, he hit the wall. The one that made his mind go blank, his eyes roll back, his whole body tense and tingle like a yawn.

It came out like a whimper. Warmer and wetter with each pathetic spurt. A small, strangled sound threatened the back of his throat. It tried to escape his gaping, downturned mouth, but he choked it back. It was a relief to get it out, like a dirty confession. Wave after hot, thick wave of frustration pooled in his boxers, clung to his balls as he emptied them completely. When the last of it crested with nothing more to give, his hips rocked to stillness, and the rest of his body went limp.

He looked like a puddle of leather and hair. Squinting as you peered around the student in front of him, you wondered why his back was heaving like he had been running.

Eddie peeled his face up from the desk; cheeks flushed, mouth slack, looking at you in a way you could only describe as absolutely fucked-out. A stray ringlet swayed in his ragged breath. There was that feeling again, that pulse between your legs that made you clench them. Quickly as he’d met your eyes, he blinked away as if it burned.

Eddie was a mess. Shifting in his seat with a grimace, he could feel the cotton cling to his skin as he sobered to the chalkboard, and the desks, and the twenty other people he prayed were oblivious to what he’d just done. It was like he was waking up from a wet dream, only he had never gone to sleep. He blinked down at his desk, mortified as his cock softened happily, lolling in its sticky puddle. It was seeping through the denim, cooling in his lap as the seconds ticked by. Glancing at the clock, he calculated another twenty minutes before he could clean it up. Twenty whole minutes to sit with the consequences, to stew in a puddle of his own shame. He supposed he could excuse himself to the bathroom but that would, of course, mean addressing you. It would mean getting up and walking in front of your desk, and the entire class, while you handed him a hall pass like a fucking child. He would rather sit.

Blinking back your thoughts from the gutter, you righted yourself in your chair, chastising yourself as you uncrossed your legs, your own mess trailing cooly against your inner thigh. It was uncomfortable, embarrassing, but there was nothing you could about it now. Flipping through your Rolodex of thoughts, you searched for anything. Anything at all that was chase, or sensible, or mildly interesting.

Looking down at your naked hands, another scene fell open. This time the set came from memory. A pawn shop in early summer. It was vivid — the rain beating against the large window framing the on-ramp of the highway, Frank Sinatra mocking from the dusty speaker in the corner. The diamond sparkled magnificently as you passed the ring over the glass countertop. Brilliant rainbow fractals brought out by certain lights. They would catch you by surprise sometimes, tickle you with delight in the supermarket or the mall. It winked at you under the fluorescents then, a fleeting goodbye. In the moment, you weren’t sure which was worse — catching your own pained reflection in the glass below you or the pity in the eyes of the man who took your once-prized possession.

You left with twelve hundred dollars in an envelope, a fraction of what it cost him. The banker box rattled in the passenger’s seat as you slammed the door. Stuffed too full for a lid, your quill mug clattered against the plates your grandma gave you. You’d run out of newspaper wrapping your knick-knacks, resorted to your clothes to pad the rest.

The mug cast a shadow across your desk now, flickering in the light of the television.

You clenched your fists, fighting the touch-memory of Eddie’s ribs under your palms. You’d felt safe for a moment; nestled in his coat, in his hair, melting into the heat of his mouth. What you would give to live it all again, right now. What you would give to have him all to yourself, every day. For the luxury to go on a date, to be seen in public together, to explore where this was going. Glancing across the sea of twenty desks, reality stared back. Where did you think this was going?

Eddie’s pencil clattered to the floor. His curse was audible, even from the front of the room. Was this where you would place your trust? Your career, your future? In the reckless hands of a twenty year old man? He could ruin you. With a bold move, or a misplaced word, or a drunken gloat one night with his friends. Or god forbid it all went south and in a blind fury he lashed out and retaliated somehow. He wouldn’t do that, would he? You thought you knew him well enough to know that he would never, but did you really? You’d known Eddie Munson for all of four months, which felt strange to consider. It terrified you, the depth of your feelings in so short a time. Terrified you almost as much as the consequences for them.

Your hand twitched beside the green grading pen resting on the pile of tests you’d barely touched in the last thirty minutes. There were more in your bag to be graded — the stack you’d abandoned on your coffee table last night. It would all catch up to you eventually. The homework, the papers, the secrets. After all you’d been through, had you learned nothing? No one really knows what they want at twenty years old. You certainly didn’t. A head full of fantasies is what you had. Snatching your pen with a firm click, you slashed an X through one of the questions on the test below you and buried yourself in your work.

When the bell finally rang, Eddie hung back in his seat like he always did, waiting for his moment with you. But by the time he had stripped himself of his jacket and secured his flannel around his waist, you had already made for the door.

______

The metal serving spoon smacked the plastic tray, leaving behind a glob of tomato sauce over the tangle of limp noodles. With a tight-lipped nod of thanks, Eddie took it from the lunch lady and made his way into the settled cafeteria, finding his place at the end of the Hellfire table. Steamed carrots bounced from the tray onto the sticky veneer as it fell from his hands with a clatter. Slugging off his backpack to the floor, he slumped into the empty chair that had been waiting patiently for him for the past twenty minutes.

“There he is,” Jeff nodded to Dustin across the table.

“What’s the story this time? Got abducted by aliens?” chortled Dave.

He would think they would stop asking questions by now, but apparently he needed to teach them a lesson. “Nah, just… jerking off,” Eddie said with a deadpan shake of his head before spearing a meatball with his fork.

The half-truth earned him a rowdy chuckle from the peanut gallery, a gag from Mike. He would spare them the uglier details, like the balled up boxers shoved in the bottom of his backpack or how awkward it was to strip them off in the stall of a bustling bathroom. Glancing down at his lap, he checked that the flannel was still cloaking the drying white stain.

Jeff’s leather jacket squeaked from the bend in his arm as he leaned against the table. “I was just filling the boys in on the show last night,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Eddie looked up with a full mouth, eyes like saucers.

“Yeah, told them about our special guest,” Dave added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He could only respond with a nervous huff, turning back to his tray as his stomach did kick flips.

“Is it true?” Mike asked Eddie. “She seriously got up and danced?”

Eddie swallowed the whole mouthful at once. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. “I mean, nothing too crazy. Just for a song.”

“Yeah a song Eddie made us play for her,” Jeff said with a wink. Dustin and Mike’s mouthes fell open simultaneously.

“Think I saw her tits at one point,” Dave reminisced.

Eddie scoffed. “You did not see her tits, dude. You’re so full of shit.”

“I dunno man, her shirt was pretty short,” Gareth added with a playful nudge.

“They’re both full of shit,” Eddie shakily assured to the two youngest members.

They barely paid him a glance, chuckling amongst the rest while Dave rubbed lewd circles over his chest.

“HEY,” Eddie barked. “Look at me, all of you. This doesn’t leave this table, do you understand me? If I catch wind that any of you went and told anyone about last night I’ll skin you alive, I swear to god.”

Gareth shot him a tired look. “Jesus, dude. Nothing even happened.”

The knot in Eddie’s stomach released slightly. “That’s right. Nothing happened.”

Dave snorted, stabbing his bendy straw into a leftover carrot. “Yeah man, chill out. Nobody’s gonna get your girlfriend in trouble.”

The blood drained from Eddie’s face as the whole gang erupted in laughter. The uproarious, table slapping kind. It was a joke. A good one, it seemed. The word echoed like the pulse pounding in his ears. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. A warm, gooey word. One that made his stomach churn with longing. Biting back venom, he wondered how their faces would change if he slapped them with the truth. Would they still be laughing? Would they even believe him? They could laugh all they want—for your sake at least—but it stung nonetheless.

Dave caught the bitter shift in his expression. “What? You clearly have the hots for her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jeff laughed.

“ANYWAY!” Eddie punctuated with a smack of his hands against the table. “Gareth, you’ve been awfully quiet about your date this past Sunday. Please, regale us,” he gestured grandly.

Gareth chuckled nervously, pushing a noodle around with his fork. “Oh uh, nothing really happened there either.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Seriously dude? You’ve been on like three dates and you haven’t even made it to first base?”

“I told you, Cindy’s not like that!” Gareth defended before glancing around sheepishly. “But we did…kinda… hold hands on Sunday.”

A long oooh emanated from the table. “Hands cupped or laced?” Dustin asked with a raise of his eyebrows, demonstrating with his own hands.

“Ok so,” Gareth began with an emerging smirk, “you know the Large Marge part of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure where her face goes all,” he demonstrated with a bug-eyed look, hands splayed on either side of his face.

The table responded with chuckles and nods. “Gets me every time,” muttered Dustin.

“Well, Cindy’d never seen it before, so she jumped and like, grabbed my arm,” he paused for effect, “so I just went for it.”

Approval bubbled up from his captive audience.

“Cupped at first,” he clarified, cutting through the noise, “but after like ten minutes she didn’t pull away, so,” he laced his fingers triumphantly. There was a barking applause, fists rattling the table. Jeff clapped him on the back with a blinding grin.

Eddie was an island. Oceans away, he managed a soft smile. His night had been far from innocent — a frantic tangle of hands, and tongues, and teeth in the frigid darkness. Phantom feelings that tugged at his lips and fingers, at the forefront of his every thought. Thumbing at the rubber rim of the lunch table, he dreamt of a universe where the walls and roles fell away, one where he could speak of his firsts too.

______

Eddie had been watching the clock all day. In eighth period trigonometry he watched second hand crawl around the clock face fifty times as his thumbnail worked the paint off a pencil, chipping at the indents his teeth left behind. The final bell was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Slugging his backpack over his shoulder, he didn’t even bother to stop at his locker before ducking down the hall where your room resided. He almost collided with a straggling sophomore exiting your door on his way in.

Perhaps he had arrived too early. It wasn’t the scene he was accustomed to — you, standing at your desk, shoving folders into your satchel like you were trying to make a run for it. His small wooden chair still leaned against the wall. The AV cart still towered where it was when the lights were off. Glancing down, he quickly checked to make sure the flannel was draping correctly.

“Going somewhere?” he teased, unable to hide the concern creeping in.

Your smile was a coy, fragile thing. Chest rising with the kicking of your heart, you opened your mouth but had no words to show for it. Fumbling with an overstuffed folder, you hovered it over the opening of your bag before sliding it in with a sigh.

Eddie shut the door.

Turning over his shoulder, he snatched your eyes with a startling hunger. Your hands went slack, leather slumping against the desk as his heavy boots met the tile. He was slow in his approach, stalking past the empty rows, parched eyes drinking in every detail of your features. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you met him at the edge of your desk.

His curls were wild, chocolate eyes fiending, a soft concern weighing his brow. Under the fluorescents you could see very clearly what you’d felt last night. The shadow of stubble, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the soft ball of his nose that was cold against your cheek. Under his jacket, the taught landscape of his chest rose and fell. You swallowed, toying with the wool of your skirt.

“Hey,” he half-whispered, lids drooping ever so slightly.

“Hey,” you replied, like your tongue was feeling the word for the first time. It tugged a gooey softness from the corners of his mouth, and you cursed yourself for the pang to taste it again. So plush and pink, drawing your gaze long enough for him to notice.

Eddie dropped his backpack to the floor, tossing it hard enough to collide with the wall below the chalkboard. Shoulders unburdened, he rolled them back to assume the fullness of his height. With pupils blown, he darted out his tongue to wet his lips, looming like a wolf that sees a rabbit.

He closed in with a step, to which you retreated. The edge of the desk bumped the back of your thighs. Heart hammering, you peered into his hungry eyes. You’d been here before. Not long ago, in your imagination. Different, darker, quieter.

Eddie drank in the sight of you — your tight cotton shirt and your soft heaving chest. How the band of your skirt hugged the curve of your waist. You, woman.

Like a false sense of safety, his scent enveloped you. It was dizzying, how badly your hands burned to trace the swell of his pecks, to tangle in his hair, to capture his hot, slick mouth again. Terrifying, the part of you that begged for him to press forward, to tumble you backward, to take his place on top of you. Timidly, your fingers curled over the corner of the desk.

As he leaned closer, you could feel the tingle of heat from his chest, the ghost of his breath on your face. His arm became a cage as he steadied his palm against the wood behind you. “Been thinking about you all day,” he murmured in your ear.

You shivered, lids fluttering closed for a selfish, greedy moment. Glancing over his shoulder at the narrow sliver of a window in the door, you peered at the lockers on the other side of the hall. There were some still slamming, slowly petering out as voices drifted further with each passing second. “Eddie,” you warned, placing a hand over his sternum. Eyes dipping slightly at your touch, the solid swell of his chest expanded under the cotton. He stepped back with a gentle push, your palm lingering before falling away.

A deep breath fumed through his nostrils, heavy and tired. With a tight lipped nod, he backed away, pivoting toward his folded chair beside the door. It screeched as he dragged it across the tile, past the rows of desks, in front of yours, all the way to his usual place beside you. He snapped it open and paused, gripping the wood in his palms, staring down at the place where he’d sat countless times. How small it was compared to yours; padded with armrests and wheels.

“So we just…” he flexed his fingers and shook his head, unable to suppress the sting in his voice, “go back to normal then?”

Eyes cast down at the empty seats, you sighed. “I don’t… think we can.”

“Good,” he stated, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

It was enticing, that chair with its worn leather padding. What was more enticing was the space beneath the desk; a safe haven for hands and arms, for cupped palms and laced fingers. On top of the desk lay your bag, and your keys, and the plant still alive in its unbroken pot. Your head was pounding; a dull ache that had been radiating from your temples since lunch. Lockers slammed outside the room, fluorescents hot on your skin. With a deep, lamenting sigh, you gave him all you could manage — your honesty. “It’s been… a hell of a day for me—”

“You could say that again.”

“I—” you sighed sharply, “I really think I just need to go home a-and… think things through.”

“What’s there to think about?” The words tumbled out like an avalanche he couldn’t chase. Your balking expression made him wish he could suck them all back.

“Oh gee, I don’t know,” you gestured wildly to the classroom, “we could start with my job.”

“I’m sorry that was—y-you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” The steam from the pressure could have burned him.

“We—we both clearly have feelings for each other,” he explained, lowering his voice. “I just… thought we would figure it out.”

There was a gap between you, cluttered with papers and pens. Your bag slumped in the middle of the mess, gaping and stuffed to the brim. Pulse hammering behind your eyes, you blinked them slowly with a pained sigh. “I know,” you admitted, toying with the strap. “Eddie, please, I need some time to think about all this.”

It hurt to imagine. You, going home, sitting there in your slippers at your coffee table and deciding that he wasn’t worth the risk. Closing the flap on your satchel, you tugged the leather heap across the desk, but Eddie’s hand was quick to pounce. “No, we need to talk.”

Frustration pinched your brow. “I know but—”

“Then let’s talk, yeah?” he gestured to the chairs.

A cluster of shadows passed by the window over your shoulder. “Not here, not right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“And go where? A table at Benny’s?” you snapped.

“You’ve got a place, right?”

Folding your arms, you shot him an incredulous look, though the thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You lowered your voice. “What happened last night was… impulsive.”

“I’d say it was a long time coming.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I think that’s enough for this week.”

Eddie would disagree, but his tongue had a wrangle on the words this time. In the pause, it was easy for both of you to picture; his clothes on your bedroom floor. Easy to picture the ways he could ruin you in private — fold you like the chair under his wringing palms. Still, the ways he could ruin you in public were equally vivid.

You turned to grab your coat, brushing past him. The arm of his jacket was smooth against yours. Electrified by the contact, you lingered for a moment, unable to abstain from drinking in his form, his scent, from basking in the prickle of his aura.

He could see it clearly in the harsh light — the shadow that clung beneath your lower lashes, the sagging exhaustion in your eyes. Gravity tugged at the corners of your natural lips, so different from how they appeared last night — dark and dusty red, framing a smile that outshined the moon. His fingers twisted against the wood. “Please stay,” he begged softly.

Your eyes drifted shut, a split-second relish in the sweet pang of his voice, though the words rung a different bell; a different man saying them. In a flash, another scene appeared — you, at the door of your old home in Indianapolis, cradling the last of your belongings as your free hand gripped the knob.

Opening your eyes to the radiator, and the windows, and the pale grey sky before you now, you relinquished a shaky sigh and tucked your fingers under the thick collar of your coat. It still held a subtle fragrance, clinging to the memory of last night, desperately as you were. Eddie watched with rapt attention as your brow pinched in pain, fingers twitching under the wool he’d memorized the shape of you through. When your lip began to tremble, his hand lost control.

“Hey,” he whispered, meeting the soft cotton slope of your shoulder with his palm.

Your head snapped toward his umber eyes; warmer than the hand that thawed your shoulder, callus catching on the cotton as his thumb soothed over it. You followed it down to his wrist, to the tendons flexing beneath the chain, dipping under the sleeve of his worn, leather coat. How desperately you longed to wrap yourself inside it again, to nestle into his beating chest and hide there forever.

A voice crackled over the loudspeaker, and reflex had you flinching. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed, tears burning behind your eyes as you snatched your coat off the hook.

Bitterly, he dropped his hand. The contact hurt to break, almost as much as it hurt to watch you don your coat, to snatch your bag, to sling the heavy strap over your shoulder. Helplessly, he stood there, feeling like a fool until the welling of your eyes made it unbearable not to advance. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he pleaded. “Like—like a big deal. Not if we don’t make it one.”

You froze, eyes narrowing as a pained fume left your nose. “That’s easy for you to say.” With a bitter huff, you turned on your heel and left him in the classroom with only the echo of your footsteps.

______

A/N: Yes, in my story Principal Higgins is a woman. I know in canon Eddie says “flip him the bird,” but for some reason my brain didn’t register that until literally two months ago. I always pictured Higgins as a stern, ancient, nun-like woman and I can’t seem to shake that characterization from my brain. Perhaps I’m just scarred from Catholic grade school. I think it works well for this story, so Martha Higgins it is.

Also sorry I never stated this in the tags but the upside down does not exist in this universe.

The smut is coming very soon. Pinky swear. Our Lady of Internal Conflict is just having a moment.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

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MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm

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unhinged-jackles · 6 months

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something so beautiful about smosh's "friendship always wins" motto is how when they first used it way back when, it was probs done as a joke. ian and anthony probs thought, what a cheesy saying, let's put it over a freeze frame of us highfiving, it's funny, the audience will love it! but then time passed, and ian and anthony got older, and that friendship faded away. anthony leaves, so what is smosh? it's still friendship, but between ian, courtney, shayne, keith, olivia and noah. then damien. then jackie. then arasha, angela, chanse, and amanda. it's also the other rotating cast and even the crew! smosh continued to succeed after anthony left because at it's core, smosh has always been about friendship and laughter. it was just a little bittersweet that the foundational friendship that created smosh was seemingly never going to come back. but then suddenly it did, and for the first time in almost 18 years, that friendship got to be a private, personal thing. ian and anthony were able to find their way back to each other without the pressure of fans watching them through a screen. they truly went back to their roots and made a choice to buy back smosh, without the expectations of millions weighing down on them. then immediately in their first sketch back we get the iconic high five and "friendship always wins" text back but now it means so much more, because against their own beliefs, their friendship did win in the end, and that's so fucking incredible.

#smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ianthony #(besties)#☀️🔍#smosh cast

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entomolog-t · 4 months

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Silly lil brainrot thats stuck in my head cause everyone's been talking about sizeshifters lately (AND I AM HERE FOR IT)

Just image a character looking for a roommate to help split rent, but their spare room is stupidly small. They put an add out, and get a few people coming by but no one wants that cramped of a bedroom, no matter how cheap they make it-

Until someone does.

They're frankly surprised- they figured at this point it was a lost cause but the person seems weirdly delighted??

Odd.

They are overjoyed at the price too- and character A can understand their joy- given the size of the room they were getting desperate price wise.

A week goes by and everything seems fairly normal. They put a lock on their door, but that seemed pretty standard when you're moving in with a stranger. They're clean, friendly, and pretty fun to be around- just a little forgetful, but who isn't?

By the second week though, Character A is noticing some weirdness. B doesn't seem to eat... They never see them cooking, theres nothing in the fridge, and they don't seem to go out for food either.

When A brings it up B brushes it off, saying they have a minifridge in their room and a lil personal stove. It seems like a good enough excuse until A realizes they've never seem them do dishes. Ever.

By the third week A is convinced theres something weird about B. They have to do some repairs on B's room and when they go in they're just in shock. It looks even smaller than before- B having put bookshelves along almost every wall- but theres no books in the shelves. Its all...

Miniatures?

Fantastically intricate rooms, ranging from something out of a fantasy castle, to influencer mansion type rooms. The longer they look, the weirder it seems though. The rooms are all connected- slides, bridges, ladders... Did they have a pet mouse or something??

Spying one room with a hamster wheel, A is convinced that B has the most spoiled pet in the world. Although... they never mentioned having a pet. Not that it was an issue, but A made it pretty clear that they should tell them if the have a pet in case of a fire or any type of emergency.

And then A sees it- or well, more accurately, doesn't see it.

They ... they dont have a bed??

Sufficiently weirded out but trying their best not to judge, A starts on whatever repairs they have to make, only to realize the project is not going to be a one and done job.

They let B know they'll have to go back into their room later this week and they work out a date and time-B assures them they'll be out of the house and will leave the door unlocked.

The day rolls around and when A goes to start the repairs they grimace. B forgot to leave their door unlocked. They really didn't have time for this. They give B a call, but it goes straight to voicemail.

With a sigh, they grab a credit card. It looked like a cheap lock anyways. Slipping the card between the door and frame they manage to bypass the lock with ease. It really was a cheap thing...

As they go to start the repairs, a little bit of movement catches their eye.

A small lump curled up under the covers of a massively luxurious bed.

Awe! So they did have a mouse!

and it slept under the covers?? Adorable.

It had to be pretty well trained if it didn't have any sort of actual cage? Maybe it was a rat? They could be pretty smart... though it was small.

Curiosity peaked, A pinches the tiny covers in their hand- not without noticing how incredibly soft and high quality they are- pulling the covers back.

A small hand rips the cover back, and they here a muffled

"Five more minutes..."

Eyes wide, they freeze, the world around them feeling frozen in this bizarre moment. A second passes. Then another.

The tiny figure in the bed bolts upright, head turning to A.

Their eyes lock in the most awkward dual realization.

"What are you doing-"

A interrupts them, holding up a tool.

"Repairs were today."

B nods, eyes wide.

"I uh... I forgot about that."

_____________________

I JUST THINK IF I WERE ABLE TO SHIFT SIZES I WOULD BE LIVING THE MOST LUXURIOUS LIFE

"BuT eNtO, DoNt YoU wAnT tO bE bIg?"

Yes obviously, but in this economy?? In the privacy of my own home I'll subsist for month off of 10$ in groceries thank you very much.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t prompts #g/t shitpost #g/t writing #EntoPrompts #sizeshifter

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 4 months

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B-u-c-k-y? Bucky

Pairings: father!Bucky Barnes x child!reader, featuring Steve Rogers x child!reader and Tony Stark x child!reader (all platonic)

Imagine: The beginning of your relationship with your father and a glimpse at the progress

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of Hydra, mention of child mistreatment, mention of experiments, reader describes as tiny to clarify more that hydra treated them bad, mention of medical equipment such as syringes, not proofread, if you find anything else please tell me

A/N so don’t know where this came from but I haven’t been able to write something in months so I’m just happy to be able to write again hopefully, don’t know if I like it or not but here we go anyway enjoy

Kinda short, dunno about 2000 words or so

might make more parts to this

Sparks lit up the dark corridor as Bucky and Steve walked down the stairs to be met with red lights flashing above each door as the alarms blasted their annoyingly high pitched sound that made your ears ring afterwards. One look at each other, they gave a nod and split up as they took one side each of the corridor.

The first room Bucky opened was filled with cabinets made of plastic and in each was different kinds of test tubes with what looked like some kind of poisonous liquid. Syringes were spread out over the desks neatly. Bucky felt chills run down his spine as he saw the hospital bed (or more like a table with white a quilt?) in the middle of the room. Handcuffs made to restrain a person laid neatly on the bed. Blood covering the sides of the bed and his mind went back to 1945, when Arnim Zola experimented on him. Which had coincidentally also been at a hydra base. His gun raised as he searched the room for any kind of lifeforms, when he found none he went on to the next door.

This continued for at least five more doors, some of them being lab rooms and some what looked like prison cells fortified with extra protection, meaning whoever had once been inside couldn’t have fled on their own.

When he opened the sixth door, Bucky scanned the room and had it not been for the red lights flashing once in a while and the lamp that flickered out a dull light he would've missed the tiny child in the room. Knees pressed to their chest. Hospital gown clinging to their skin from blood and cold sweat. The room had cold chills and even for Bucky who tolerated the cold more than others he could feel the freezing temperature in the room. He lowered his gun and put on the softest expression he could muster during these circumstances. Bucky glanced out the door and yelled out with a soft voice (to not startle the child) once for Steve, Bucky’s gaze not soon after fell back to the quivering child, that was you, who stared at him with wide scared eyes.

Bucky took a careful step towards you as he kneeled down slightly to put his gun onto the floor. He gave you what was supposed to look like a kind smile but looked more like a grimace as he thought about what you must have been through. As soon as you saw Bucky coming closer he watched as dark blue smoke covered your tiny frame and not a second after you were gone. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked around the room for you. His eyes fell on the coroner farthest away from him. You had covered your ears with your hands and your eyes were shut. Your body was tense and knees still pressed to your chest as you quivered further into the corner. Bucky stayed in place not knowing entirely what to do. At that moment he saw Steve walk through the door sparing a glance towards you before back at Bucky his shield raised as they both heard people run their way. With a sigh from Bucky they both left you for the time being as Hydra soldiers started to fill the end of the corridor.

As soon as you heard the sound of shots (your hands not able to muffle out the sounds that came right outside of the room you resided in) die down you opened your eyes. You watched with curious eyes as Bucky (not that you knew his name) walked into the room once more. Like before he put his gun down and gave you a kind smile, this time his hand slowly reached out for you. He watched as you pressed yourself girder into the corner as you stared at his hand.

“hey, hey, okay, it’s okay” Bucky raised both his hands into the air to show he meant no harm as he cautiously took another step closer. “I won’t hurt you” Steve watched from the door opening as Bucky interacted with you. His gaze shifted to the metal objects (or what looked like toys for children) in the room that had started to slightly hover over the ground, including Bucky’s gun.

Bucky’s eyes glanced towards the hovering objects and was a tiny bit glad that you hadn’t done anything to his left arm. “What's your name?” he let out a sigh as you didn't answer knowing you probably wouldn't answer anything he asked you, hell he didn’t even know if you could understand him. His head tilted slightly as he took slow steps forward until he knelt in front of you. The metal objects (except his arm) are rising higher into the air.

“are you alright, you hurt?” He said clearly as he watched you start to pick at the side of your arm where blood was running down onto your hospital gown. He watched as you picked at multiple wounds, some of them he could clearly see were from syringes and his eyes saddened. Both Bucky and Steve watched as you pressed yourself deeper into the corner, as you tried to hide the many bruises that littered your body.

“can I-we help you, can you let us help you out of here?” Bucky gestured with his hand to him and Steve as he said the word us. Once more he didn’t get a verbal answer but instead he got you to move out of the corner slightly. Bucky held his hand out to you once more and watched as you carefully placed your tiny hand in his much bigger one. He couldn’t help but to give a soft smile once more towards you.

"Can you walk?” And yet again there was no answer. Bucky looked at you with an uncertain expression as you stood up. Your body swaying from side to side. He carefully and slowly to make sure you could stop him if you wanted to, took you into his arms. Making sure you wouldn’t fall he stood up straight and started to walk towards Steve who smiled slightly at Bucky as he watched you shut your eyes and bury your head into his chest. The metal objects all crashed to the ground with a loud clatter of noise in various directions.

This had all been four months ago and Bucky had finally started to get you to trust him enough for you to let him teach you how to talk, write and read. By now you also trusted the rest of the avengers enough so that you wouldn’t try to hide from all of them except Steve (excluding Bucky). Tony would most days let you sit beside him as he made new iron man suits and at some time along the way he’d let you help him by using your powers to bend a metal the way he wanted it to be. This would in the end result in you running up to Bucky proud of your accomplishments and for Bucky to ruffle your hair and tell you how proud he was. These interactions with Tony also led to you having more control over your powers at least one of them. You still tended to teleport yourself unintentionally to the other side of the room if you were scared.

Today it just so happened that Bucky held another lesson with you to help you speak. So far you were able to say yes and no and some other basic things such as “hungry” and “tired”. However even though you were starting to learn you still most of the time stuck to being nonverbal and only shook your head yes or no or shrugged your shoulders when you didn’t know.

At this moment Bucky had tried to teach you to say his name and so far your tries had been good but as he knew you were a slow learner which he realized the first time he started to teach you, he knew you wouldn't be getting his name right in a while. For Bucky however this was just a minor setback as he felt he had to teach you everything after all as it so happened he was your father.

As soon as you had gotten to the Avengers base they tried to find out if you had any family that had filed a missing child’s report and to know what your name was as you refused to speak (them not knowing you didn’t know how to). Bucky had to promise you that he would be there for every test they did to you to make sure you were as healthy as you could be at that moment for you to let them be near you with any medical devices. As it turned out Hydra had somehow created you from Bucky’s DNA meaning he was listed as the father in the old Htdra records they found at the Hydra base they had attacked. They had also found out that you were around 8-9 years old. There wasn’t a specific date listed anywhere on when your birthday was, only what year you were born. This had shocked all of the heroes as they by the way you looked were way younger. All the more information they gained only made Bucky feel more guilty. Even if he didn’t know about your existence he still felt guilty over the things you had suffered with Hydra. The fact that you looked so much younger made him feel more guilty as it showed how poorly they had taken care of you. If he just looked at you he would assume you were around 5-6 years old and maybe your powers helped your appearance look younger but it still made him feel guilty.

Bucky had to shake himself out of his thoughts as he watched and heard you try to pronounce his name correctly.

“B-b-a-b-a-ck-y” You fumbled over the words as you hugged the Iron Man plushie Tony had given you a few days prior after he saw you holding a Captain America plushie. Ever since you hadn’t let go of the new plushie, much to Bucky’s demise and Tony’s ego.

Your father couldn’t help but to smile at you, it had been a long time since he smiled as much as when you came into his life and he hoped that maybe you could heal the part in himself that he found to be broken.

“not A” he pointed to the letter a in the book you held in front of you “sweetheart, it’s b-u-cky” Bucky pointed at each letter as he said them. He had originally wanted to teach you to call him dad first but as you had no idea what that word meant yet and only ever heard people call him bucky that's what he went with to for now to not make you confused.

“ba-cku?

Bucky chuckled slightly and remade his actions as before. He pointed to each letter as he said them. “b-u-c-k-y, bucky”

“B-u-c-k-y?”

“That's right sweetie, B-u-c-k-y” Steve spoke from beside you as he took the other seat next to you as he brought you a plate with different types of sliced fruit as they were still trying to see what you liked to eat.

You took fruit from the plate and tasted it. Munching on it you smiled slightly up at Bucky. “Bu-cky, Bucky? Bucky”

Both super soldiers let out encouraging smiles as you repeated Bucky’s name as if it was a chant. Bucky’s smile held more pride than the others who had heard you as he ruffled your hair. He smiled more brightly as he watched you stand up and ruffle his own hair mimicking his actions. With that he let out a small laugh and kissed the top of your head as you sat down once more, ready for Bucky to teach you other words.

#Bucky Barnes x child!reader #bucky Barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x teen!reader #x reader #mcu x child!reader #marvel x child!reader #x child!reader #Steve Rogers x child!reader #Bucky Barnes x child reader #tony stark x child reader #marvel x reader #marvel x platonic reader #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

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witchern · 1 month

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i need the final moment of shōgun to be blackthorne and yabushige high-fiving each other. thin lizzy's "the boys are back in town" starts playing. it ends on a freeze frame. the emmy noms start pouring in.

#*t #shogun #shōgun #in a fever dream this would be the ideal ending

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joshsjipple · 25 days

Text

Second Chances

JOSH KISZKA X FEMALE READER

A/N: I’m so sorry for all the Josh fics but he seems the be the only one who fits my ideas atm. I promise to get another Jake and Sam one out there eventually. Bear with me!

Word Count: 8.3k

WARNINGS: 18+ mature content, graphic sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f & m rec), fingering, praise kink, spitting, hair pulling, a bit of a mustache kink, language, FLUFF! this is a more gentle, sweet fic:)

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

Your hand shakes so vigorously as you sign your name on the papers at the car rental counter that you’re shocked when the receptionist hands you the keys. Your phone vibrates in your jean pocket and you give the clerk an apologetic smile as your pen scrapes across one last form. With a bag in your hand, you head for the doors. Your rental car isn’t exactly ideal, with rust infecting the edges and dents along the passenger side door, it looks like it survived a zombie apocalypse. But it will get you to Frankenmuth, so you cram yourself in and prepare for the hour and a half drive.

To say you were surprised to receive a call from your high school bestie Robin, would be an understatement. In fact, when you heard her voice on the other line, you nearly dropped your coffee in the middle of downtown Manhattan. It had only been five years or so since you’d walked across that stage, cap and gown on and diploma in hand, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It was strange for your class to already be arranging a reunion, but you weren’t complaining. You knew your boss–Sara– wouldn’t mind giving you a few days off to return home, as you had only taken two sick days this year. You felt like you deserved a bit of a break–even if that “break” included spending time in your childhood prison cell.

It’s around 4pm when you arrive at your parent’s house just 15 miles out of town. You’ve been home plenty of times before to attend family gatherings, holidays, and occasionally some birthdays. But you haven’t entered the town itself since you left it. It’s silly, but you could never bring yourself to do it, so you’d take the back roads, windows down, blasting music from your specially made playlist with a smile on your face.

As you tug your bag out of the back seat, you already hear the front door opening. As you turn around, you’re greeted by two overly-excited parents. It takes only a few seconds before your mother has you wrapped in a bear-hug, her body gently rocking yours as she strokes your hair. When she finally releases you, your dad scoops you up. It’s brief, but it does the job.

Your parents leave you to get situated in your room, and when you enter, a wave of deja vu sweeps your body. It’s always the same as you leave it, a time capsule you get to revisit when you’re lucky. You posters still hang on the walls surrounding your bed, neither you or your parents having the guts to remove them. Books still line your shelf, all sorted neatly by genre categories. Your box of vinyls are placed under a desk, dust creeping over the covers. Your window sills still have the same flower-patterned curtains that they did when you were just a girl. Despite your friends making fun of them as you grew up, you were too sentimental to just tear them down and throw them away.

You’re examining the room, your eyes occasionally stopping on something that brings back a fond memory. When they scan over your night stand, time seems to freeze. A framed picture is set up on the wooden surface, slightly facing towards your bed. Two kids, a girl and a boy, are waist deep in the water, their skin dotted with water droplets as more fly through the air. Their mouths are open, screaming and giggling as the water hits their faces. Suddenly, you’re transported back six years to when that was taken. You can recognize those damp curls anywhere, even if the sun is blinding the camera and blocking half of him out. You can remember that day like it was just last week, and the fact it still feels so recent, sends shivers up your arm.

After you pick your jaw up off the floor, you cross the room and immediately bring the picture to your face. It’s clean, like it was just recently set there. The tip of your finger traces the frames, the corner of your lips tugging into a smile. You had to have been only 16 or 17 at the time, making Josh the same age. That summer was the best of your life, a forever memory engraved in your brain. You and him spent those whole two and a half months together, basking in the sunlight in his backyard, listening to him complain about his twin brother. You had watched nearly every movie out there, staying up till 2 am every night before lazily dragging yourself back to your house only to join him for breakfast the following morning.

It’s a bittersweet moment for you as you stare at the boy you once knew and now know nothing about.

Placing it back in its original position, you run your fingers through your hair a few times before sitting on your bed. The window is open, a fresh breeze spilling into your all-the-sudden claustrophobic room. Needing to get your mind off things, you pull out your phone and answer a text from Robin.

Robin: In town yet?

You: Yep! Everything’s the same.

Robin: Pretty close. We’re all meeting at the bar downtown at 7pm.

You: Got it. Who’s all coming?

Robin: Everyone except Evan and Lily; something about sick kids and a tight work schedule.

Your thumbs pause momentarily before dancing on the screen. You don’t want to ask, but at the same time you do, so you type the message a few times before ultimately deleting it. Falling back, you groan slightly, rubbing your tired eyes. Your phone buzzes by your thigh again, alerting you of another text.

Robin: I know you were contemplating on asking, but yes, Josh will be there.

–

At 5pm, you eat a small snack with your parents. Your mother made bagel dip for you–an all time classic– so you munch on it as you catch up with your family. As suspected, nothing’s really changed around town, unless you count new tourists pouring in every year. You tell them about your job and what it’s like living in a big city, a fascinated daze over both their faces as you speak. You’re just about to head upstairs to shower when your mother calls from over her shoulder.

“Are you still in contact with Josh?” she asks, causing a pause in your chewing. Your eyes find your father’s, but all he does is shrug and place his folded hands on the table before you.

“Not really.” you manage to say, praying that will be enough to end the conversation. But of course, you’re not lucky enough.

“That’s too bad. Did you know his band got huge?” she returns to the dining room, a towel in her hands.

“No. I didn’t.” you lie. Of course you knew it did.

“I always knew they would, they were very talented, even as kids.” you dad chimes in. You sink deeper into your seat, feeling a slight ping of guilt prick your stomach.

“Is he coming tonight?” your mom asks in a knowing tone. You smile warmly, eyes darting across her face to try and decide what she’s trying to do.

“Yes, him and Jake.”

“That’ll be fun, just like old times.” she replies, the last few words sticking out slightly more than the rest.

“Sweetie–” your father attempts to speak, but you cut him off.

“Did you put that photo on my nightstand?” you question. She only shrugs, which is fine because it gives you your answer. “It’s not ever going to happen, mom.” you put your foot down, eyes slightly piercing into hers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I found it in storage and didn’t want it to break.”

Although her answer seems to make sense, it’s not like her to not have a motive. Following your better judgment, you just nod in agreement. That last thing you want to do is spend your few days here fighting with your mom.

–

By 6:30, your hair is washed, curled, and neatly displayed across your shoulders. A small ribbon ties a few strands back, keeping them out of your eyes. Going for a more simple look, you skip the major makeup steps in your routine and settle on some mascara and lipgloss. With two dainty gold necklaces hanging across your neck-line, you settle on a tight black dress. You slip on a pair of white heels before standing in front of your whole-body mirror to look yourself over. You decide it’s good enough, grab a handbag, and head out the door.

Driving through Frankenmuth made you feel like a teenager again. You mom let you take her car once she examined the state of your rental. It moved smoothly across the roads as you admired the scenery. When you passed the school grounds, you nearly lost it. You hated it at the time, but now that you’re grown, you miss it like hell. Correction: you miss him like hell.

Every spot in this town holds a different memory, each containing Josh. The big hill that the two of you would ride your bikes down; he was always braver than you were. The parking lot of the hometown grocer where the two of you pushed each other around in grocery carts. That park where you smoked your first joint (with Josh’s supervision, expertise, and guidance). And finally, the downtown road that would lead you to your final destination tonight. It was one of your fondest memories of Josh, it made you see how much he cared for you. You were wandering around town when he took your hand and dragged you into the street, a sly smile on his face. He set a hand on your waist and hummed a soft song, recreating that scene from The Notebook because he knew how much you loved that movie.

It didn’t occur to you until now that you would be seeing him tonight. You sat parked, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to imagine what he looks like now. Of course you could have just looked it up, but you thought that would be cheating so you pushed that urge out of your head. Once you gather up all your courage, you remove yourself from the car and make your way to the door.

The committee must have rented out the whole building, because when you step in, there’s only a few handfuls of people in your presence. The place is cleaned up nice, the floors redone and the walls decorated with patterned paintings. For once, it doesn’t smell like fried onions and beer which you’re coming to appreciate.

Once you’ve scanned the room thoroughly and don’t find either Josh or Jake, you say hello to your former classmates. You all make small talk for a while, smiles filling the room as everyone talks about their success. You even find one of your ex-situationships, Mark, and fling your arms around him. The two of you talk for a while, even giggling over how dramatic your ‘relationship’ was. He’s explaining his fiance when you catch a chestnut brown haired man talking to someone. Begrudgingly, you finish your conversation with Mark before approaching him. Your heart beats quickly in your chest as you join his small group nonchalantly.

The boy turns his head, giant chocolate eyes staring straight back at you. Your heart skips a beat while your brain tries to comprehend. Tilting your head, it clicks together. It’s not Josh, it’s Jake.

“Jacob?” you finally ask, knowing 100% it’s him.

“Miss me?” he smirks before pulling you into his arms.

You were never as close with Jake, but you still knew him better than your other classmates. He smells of alcohol and musky spice, making your head spin. Once he pulls away, he keeps a hand firmly planted on your upper arm.

“How have you been?” you ask quickly, not wanting the interaction to end just yet.

“I’m good, very busy. And you?” his eyes shine.

“I’m great, actually. Thanks.” you reply, exhaling deeply. “You look great. I love the mustache.”

“We just got back from Europe. I’ll probably shave it off within the next few weeks.” he admits in an awfully comfortable tone. He looks rather relaxed right now, and you take note of it. You probably look like a constipated cow right now, nervous and shaking.

When you open your mouth to speak, Robin shouts your name. You turn towards the sound, finding her already trotting towards you with open arms. The two of you embrace, rocking back and forth on your heels. When she pulls away, she looks the exact same as she did in highschool. Her bright blonde hair is tied up, blue eyes glimmering, smile lines showing. She was always one of the most radiant humans you had ever met.

Appearing from behind her is no other than Josh Kiszka. Your moves falter, but Robin offers you a quick squeeze and a smile of encouragement. You barely notice her, or anything around you other than him.

“We’ll catch up later, hm?” she says before leaving to talk to another person across the room.

Time seems to pause for a brief moment, the world allowing you to stare at him without feeling awkward or rude. The once shaved sides of his head are now filled in completely, messy curls atop his head like a mop. He had been clean shaved his whole life, but now, hair grows above his lip and down his chin. He looks more mature, and kissed by the sun, but nonetheless, it’s Josh.

You both seem to have the same idea, because you meet each other halfway. He wraps you up in his arms, his arms gripping your waist. Your hand rests on his back, the other briefly toying with the curls on the back of his head. As always, he radiates warmth and affection, making you want to break down in his arms. You can feel his heart against your chest and you shut your eyes to soak up the feeling. He rests his chin in the cavern between your shoulder and neck, his nose moving some of your curls out of the way. When he breathes, the warm air ignites sparks of electricity, flowing through your blood. He smells like love and wine and you begin to feel drunk off of him.

He pulls away first, a beaming expression on his face. His hands grab your forearms, unwilling to let go. He clutches onto you like you might disappear if he lets go, making your heart skip a beat.

“How are you?” he starts off.

“I’m great, Josh. And what about you? How’s the rockstar life treating you?” you speak rapidly, unable to control anything.

“Ah, so you have been stalking.” he chirps joyfully, teeth showing. “It’s okay, me too.” You’re so taken back by his words that your brain doesn’t think of a response. But just like when you were a teenager, Josh has that under control. “Come sit. We’ll have a drink.” he announces after a pause, leading you to the bar.

He pulls the chair out for you before pushing you in, your knees brushing against the table top. Taking his place next to you, he takes a hand to call the waiter over.

“I’ll do a Salty Dog and she’ll have some red wine.” he speaks confidently for you as if you haven’t spoken for five years. The man behind the counter leaves and Josh turns to you. “What?” he asks once he notices your confusion.

“You remembered?” you say with a laugh.

“Remember what? That you can’t drink hard liquor? I had a permanent reminder in my car for a few years.” he quips, earning a giggle from you.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, which is why I’m nice about it.” he grins. The bartender arrives with your drinks and you quickly bring your glass to your lips, desperate to consume anything that will help calm your nerves.

“So,” you say once you’ve both swallowed the liquid. “How was Europe?”

“Doing a little more stalking than I thought, eh?” he jokes again.

“Funny. I talked to Jake before this.” you tell him. Folding your hands in your lap, you struggle to look him in the eyes.

“Figured. He does get all the ladies nowadays.” he sighs dramatically. “Europe was awesome, it’s so lovely. You’d love it.” he insists, hand rubbing his chin. “And what about you? Did you become that world-selling author you always wanted to be?”

“Josh, don’t you think you would have heard about me if that were so?”

He takes a second to think as he purses his lips. “I don’t read much anymore, so no.”

“You don’t read anymore?” you ask in disbelief.

“I only liked your stuff. It just felt weird…” he pauses briefly, taking another sip of his beverage. “So if you’re not an author, what do you do?”

“It’s similar, but I edit other people’s work.”

“Really? Do you write at all?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Not much.” you admit.

It makes you sad to finally say it aloud. You haven’t written since you and Josh went separate ways as he was your inspiration. You loved the idea of describing people you thought he would like or relate to just to see his face when he reaches the plot twist.

“That’s too bad. You were very talented.” he compliments. “I’d like to talk to some other people before they leave, but would you want to meet up in a couple hours and head back to my place?”

Your heart rate spikes. “Your place? Or your parent’s place?”

“Tomato tomato.” he shrugs, accentuating the words differently.

“I’d love to.” you say, standing to your feet.

Josh follows your lead, but as you begin to walk away, his fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you to a stop. Your face is inches from his and you can feel every breath he takes. With his fingers tightly placed on your wrist, you know he can feel how fast your heart is beating. Feeling confident from your drink, you hold eye contact and only break it to watch his tongue run over his bottom lip.

“Don’t slip away again, okay?” he swallows, his brows pulled down into a knotted expression.

You don’t even understand what he means until he’s walking away. By then, it’s too late to answer, so you shake it off and begin your search for Robin.

–

After an hour or so of meaningful conversations, you manage to slip away and find Robin. She’s tucked away in the kitchen, digging through her purse for something. When you approach her from behind, she jumps slightly with her hand over her heart.

“Jeez you’re sneaky.” she relaxes again, a smile resting on her lips. “How’s it going?”

You move next to her and shrug absently. “It’s good. Everything’s changed so much, don’t ya think?”

“Some things haven’t.” she says in a simple tone. You quirk your head to the side, trying to decipher her words as she continues to dig through her purse. Her lips are molded into a mostly flat line, the only action being the smallest of grins only you could recognize.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and Josh, I mean.” she states, her eyes failing to meet yours.

You scoff and mess with a strand of hair that has fallen into your eyes. “Yeah right. I think he’s changed the most.”

“Maybe, but did you ever sit and think that he’s always been that kind of front man? I mean, he was the main character in the school plays for four years straight.” she adds.

“I suppose. But it’s still different.” you frown slightly.

Robin huffs loudly before turning her body to face yours. “The only thing that has changed, is the shift of platonic love into romantical love.”

Her words make your blood run cold, goosebumps pricking on your skin. You swallow loudly, eyes locked with hers, searching for some sort of clue to let you know she’s just joking. It never comes so you’re forced to think of an answer.

“It’s not–no!” you squint at her. She only shrugs and juts out her chest a bit. “It’s not like that between us. It never has been and never will be.”

“It’s obvious. I’ve known you since we were just girls playing barbies, and you’ve never once looked at someone the way you look at Josh. Not even Mark, and he was the hottest guy in school.” she pauses to shove at your shoulder. “I mean, even after five years of no contact for whatever reason, he’s still the one.”

You stand in front of her gobsmacked and motionless. With a flat gaze, you watch her eyes curiously dance over yours. Not once has anyone ever pinned the tail on the donkey so well, so the fact she did had your jaw on the floor. After a few more seconds, she rolls her eyes and combs through her hair.

“Okay.” you say. “Maybe you’re right. But it hasn’t always been like that. High school was platonic, completely. Nothing ever happened.”

“I know.” she says quickly. “Except for that one time when–”

“It was a kiss and we were wasted. You dared us to!” you point at her with furrowed brows. She laughs, the sound filling the room and relaxing your shoulders. “Don’t tell him. We’ve both changed over these five years, I don’t want him to find a reason to be with me when he has so much ahead of him. So just keep it between us, okay?”

“I don’t have to.” she says cooly, just as a knock appears on the door.

“Hey guys.” someone says, and you turn around quickly to see Josh perched at the door frame. “Still gossiping I see. Some things never change.”

“You know it.” Robin smiles, going in for a hug. They share a brief moment before she does the same to you.

“Trust your gut.” she whispers just loud enough for you to hear. You smile at her and watch her mingle out into the party.

“Are you ready to go?” he questions, motioning to the doors. You nod and follow behind him, a weird feeling sitting in the pit of your gut.

Your goodbyes to everyone are short, but you spend an extra minute in Jake’s arms. He tells Josh he won’t be home till later because he’s having a few more drinks with a friend. You and Josh split off a few moments later, him holding the door open for you as you step out into the street.

“Remember what happened here?” he asks as he falls into pace with your steps.

“Your Ryan Gosling moment?” you joke.

“He wishes he could do as well as I.” he boasts, giving you a playful shrug. “My cars here.”

The drive to his house is short. The two of you sit in silence, music filling the void between you both. You watch the road wind in its familiar pattern, twisting and turning until he turns into his driveway. The house looks the same as it did the night before graduation, its walls still giving off a welcoming aura. You’ve barely fathomed the fact that you’re here until Josh’s at your door, holding it open. You smile warmly and thank him under your breath as you get out.

“Home sweet home.” he says, leading you to the front door as if you didn’t basically grow up here.

“Are your parents not home?” you ask, noticing the lights shut off.

“Not till later. Just us for now if that’s okay.”

You nod and enter the house. Immediately, your knees begin to feel weak. It feels like you’ve been running away your entire life and finally reached home. It still smells like cinnamon and freshly cooked waffles. The air is warm and inviting, and you fight every urge not to crawl on the couch and drift off to sleep. You must be ogled, because Josh stands beside you, watching your face cover so many emotions in a record amount of timing. He doesn’t say a word, but his hand brushes yours and brings you back to reality.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” he offers, moving towards the fridge.

“Water is fine.” you tell him, leaning over the counter to watch him. The house is silent, but Josh fixes that by humming a song to himself. He fills the cup with ice and cold water, his eyes focused on your drink.

“Three ice cubes?” you ask when he hands the glass to you.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks in a fake offensive voice.

“Do you want me to answer that?” you joke. He gives you a scolding look before giving into the laugh that’s creeping up his throat.

“Wanna go upstairs?” he asks. “I’ve got something for you.”

“What?”

“Just come on.” he encourages, already at the staircase.

You follow behind him, taking note of his movements up the stairs. The hallway is pitch black, but neither of you have an issue because you know the path like the back of your hands. When you enter his room, you’re engulfed by the familiarity. His bed is made neatly, bed sheets still the same maroon as they were throughout highschool. Everything looks the exact same besides a duffle back on the floor by the wall. Almost immediately, Josh wanders to his vinyl collection. He digs through it and places his choice on his player.

You take your seat on the edge of his bed, watching him kneel to set the volume just how he likes it. When he’s finished, he stands and brushes his hands across his khaki pants. That simple motion makes your heart pump a wave of sadness through you. As kids, Josh never put any effort into looking presentable when it came to you. Although he always somehow managed to smell like peaches and flowers, he never cared what he looked like to you, and neither did you.

“You’ve grown up.” you say in a flat tone, emotionless.

He pauses on your face and reads you like an open book. “You too. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Josh just nods and sits on the bed, his weight causing it to sink slightly. He pulls his legs up and sits criss-cross applesauce, just as he always used to do. The simple action makes you relax a bit, a small token of a reminder that he is still him, and you’re still you. Now, you remember back to sitting on Josh’s bed, knees tucked under your chin as you fiddled with a string in your denim shorts. He was across from you, his hands working skillfully on his acoustic guitar. You two sat there the whole day, saying very little to each other. You could do that with him–sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company. Now if you had to do that with someone, you’d be in for one hell of a panic attack.

“You look beautiful tonight.” he tears you away from your thoughts. “You are beautiful.”

You feel a hot shade of pink dust on your cheeks and you giggle like a teenage girl. “You too Josh.”

“I try.” he sighs. The air is silent between the two of you, and you struggle to not break down and tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are for everything. Josh always had a way of making you feel sentimental, especially now.

The silence seems to weigh you both down, and when neither of you can take it, you open your mouth to speak first. “Did you ever think of me?”

Josh is quiet in front of you, but you’re too embarrassed to look at him right now, so you stare at his blankets below you.

“What do you mean-”

“Just tell me I meant something.” you say, opening a part of your heart to him no one has seen before. You feel stupid, this isn’t a book, but the love you two shared as kids, felt like it could be one.

“You did.” he says immediately. “Of course you did. You were my best friend.”

His voice wavers as he speaks, making your heart fall. You’d imagined this conversation for so long, what you would say and how he would react. Would he take you in his arms and allow you to cry into his shoulder? Or would he cup your cheeks and kiss your lips? You had so many things to say to him, most of them coming to you on nights you couldn’t sleep. But now that your opportunity is here, your mind is blank.

He scoots closer to you, his knee brushing against yours. You still can’t bear to look at him, especially since your face is as red as a beet and tears well in your eyes. His fingers push a strand of hair behind your ear before gracing your cheek. You shutter at the touch, a long breath drawing from your lips. One hand cups your face, the other rests softly on your knee. He lifts your eyes so they meet his, and you find he too is feeling the same way you do.

“Maybe we should let this go.” your lip quivers, but you try to keep your voice steady and convincing.

“I don’t think I can handle letting this go–letting you go.” he shuts his eyes.

“Josh, don’t. Please don’t.” you beg pathetically, standing to your feet to escape his grasp. “I can’t let you do this.”

“What?”

His tone makes you feel like you’ve misread the whole moment, but Robin’s words reply themselves in your mind. “Look at you! You have a mustache and a full head of hair. You wear khaki pants and long white t-shirts with beaded necklaces hanging across your chest. You’re a popular rock band that tours around the world. You’ve won a Grammy for crying out loud!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asks.

“We’ve changed, Josh. It’s all too different.” your voice shakes and you wrap your arms around your body to help comfort yourself. Josh runs a hand over the back of his neck, breathing out of his mouth loud enough for you to hear.

“We have changed. That’s how things work. It’s been five years since we’ve last interacted-”

“That wasn’t my fault!” you raise your voice, a tear spiraling down your cheek.

Josh pauses and stares for a moment. “I know. I know. We were dumb and didn’t know what the world would hold for us. But we do now.” he stands to his feet. “I’ve been with others, I’ve tried to move on but I physically can’t when you’re in my blood. I see a leaf the color of your hair and my heart sinks. I thrift sweaters and immediately think of you because in a perfect life, they’d be our sweaters.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you’re stunned and at a loss for words. Not ever did you imagine Josh would think about you this way. It wasn’t an insecurity, it was a fact. He was a rockstar, traveling the world, anyone he wanted at his fingertips. Josh’s face is red and he rubs his face a few times, gathering himself. This was clearly not the way either of you expected tonight to go. You take a step back, feeling like he deserves some space.

“I never knew.” is all you are able to say.

“Never knew?” he asks, confusion and hurt coating his voice. “I watched you study for hours. I cooked for you every chance I got. We had matching keychains. I spent every day with you. I wrote songs about you and now sing them on stage for thousands of people.” he informs you. Your heart is beating inside your chest at an insane pace as you imagine Josh writing and singing songs about you. You search for the words to tell him how you feel, but he beats you to it. “Y/N. Remember the 4th of July our junior year? We sat in the lawn with nail polish and I watched you paint your nails. You asked me if I wanted mine done–which I didn’t– but I was looking for any excuse to feel your hand in mine, so I let you.”

Still standing away from him, you lick your lips. He did let you do that, but you never thought anything of it until now. It all makes sense now. “When you’d ask me to rub your back or put sunscreen on you, I’d write you messages.” you admit, his eyes watching you. “I spelled that I loved you.”

A second later, Josh’s hands cup your cheeks and his lips connect to yours. He sucks the breath out of you, and you step backwards. He pushes you until you’re sandwiched between him and the wall. Your lips work at his, passionately taking him in. His hands wrap around your head, cradling it as yours work at his curls. His tongue traces your bottom lip, and you moan into him and allow him access. Your tongues dance together like they’ve done it a million times. It all seems natural, the way his body feels warmly pressed against yours and the sounds of your mouths working together. When his hands trace down the sides of your dress and he squeezes at the back of your thigh, you jump into him. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you can barely feel his length against your heat. It’s enough to make you tug on his hair a bit tighter.

With his hands still stationed on your thighs, he stumbles to his bed, laying you down carefully. Your lips pull apart just long enough that he’s able to remove his necklaces and his shirt. You watch him above you, his cheeks pink and his skin smooth. The tip of his tongue rests on his lip as he tosses his shirt to the side and averts his attention back to you. You’re both smiling when your lips connect, your teeth gently knocking against each other. He places gentle kisses across your nose and forehead before trailing down to your ears and neck. He sucks gently on your skin as your hands rub the skin of his torso. He’s smoother than ever, and you feel safe under his touch. His hands work the necklaces around your neck and he sets them next to his before kissing the straps to your black dress. Your hands are tucked away in his hair as he drags both straps down, his eyes never leaving yours. Once they’re off, he pauses before continuing. You nod to him, using your own hand to help him remove the rest of the fabric. With a wink, he continues.

Once your breasts are exposed completely, he sits up slightly, taking you in. You feel like an angel as his eyes sweep over you. “You’re the prettiest human I’ve ever met.” he says softly as he places his lips on your hardened nipple. You suck in a breath as his wet lips take you into his mouth. One hand is gripping your hip while the other plays with your uncovered breast. He laps at the skin, his tongue swirling in every direction. He switches, the hand on your waist now massaging your tit that once had his mouth on it. With a pop and a pathetic whine from you, he lets go. You instantly try and shimmy out of the rest of the dress, but his hands grab your wrists and pin them above your head.

“I’ve waited so long for this, let me do it.” he says in a silky voice.

His fingers pull the whole thing off your body, leaving you in nothing but a skimpy thong that hides nothing. He’s hard and pressed against your leg, his teeth gritted as he notices the patch of wetness in your panties. Cursing to himself, he kisses your lips again while his hands travel down your navel. His fingers are a fire, igniting a forest as he trails them along your sticky skin. As you swallow his lips, his fingers tug on the waistband of your panties. Unknowingly, your hips grind into him and he hisses. His middle finger dances across your heat, the thin line of fabric keeping you from his skin. His lips are still on yours and he swallows every whimper you give him.

“Please, Josh.” you manage to pull away long enough to speak. He smirks before sliding his hand into your panties. As a finger gathers your arousal, you wrap your hands around Josh’s neck and pull him back into your lips. The single pad of his finger runs quick circles over your aching bundle of nerves a few times before he slides it in. You’re too lost in his touch to feel embarrassed of the whine that escaped your mouth, but he seems to enjoy it.

“More.” you ask, and he delivers, slamming a second finger in with the first. Your body jumps and he giggles. You smack his arm once before latching onto it to keep you steady.

“Can I go down on you?” he breathes in your ear.

“You don’t have to.” you squeak.

“I didn’t ask that, did I? I asked if I could.” he grunts, nipping at the skin of your neck.

“Yes. Fuck, please.”

He removes his fingers and makes quick work of your panties, tossing them into the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Placing one last kiss on your nose, he trails down your body. You spread your legs for him, eyes shining at the view of him between them. He coolly blows on your cunt and you shiver as he does. When his finger drags itself through your wetness and his lips connect with your bud, your hands grip the sheets. He licks a long stripe from top to bottom, sucking on your clit for a few seconds.

“You taste like honey, mama.” he coos, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

He tenderly eats you out, paying close attention to what your body does and doesn’t like. His eyes watch you as he works, noting your facial expressions and your breathing. No one you’d ever been with has paid such attention to you like this, but the fact Josh does, doesn’t surprise you.

He laps at your cunt, fingers buried inside of you. When he finds your specific spot, he curls roughly into you and your hands shoot to his hair. He giggles gently again, working fast circles into your pussy as your fingers grip his head. The feeling of his mustache against your folds makes for a delightful experience. The pit in your stomach grows quickly and before you know it, you’re catapulted over the edge. With your hips bucking into Josh’s face, you unravel below him, stars shooting through the black of your eyelids.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you release his hair and throw your arms behind your head. He kisses along the insides of your thighs, cleaning up all of your release. Sliding his fingers into his mouth, he sucks them dry with a shit eating grin. With arms on either side of your head, he lowers himself back onto you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair.

“How am I expected to eat anything else ever again?” he quips, earning an exhausted laugh from you. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m happy with this.” he tells you softly.

“No, I want to.” you tell him.

He nods and rolls onto his back. You straddle him first, kissing his face. Then, you slide down, your tits dragging across his bare skin. You bite your lip at the friction, and he watches you through hooded eyelids. When you palm him through his pants, he lays his head back, mouth open. You unbutton him and slide both his pants and boxers down at the same time. You toss the material on to the floor before giving him your full attention. His cock sits against his stomach and you drool at the vein running across the length of him.

He hisses as you take him into your hand, gently wrapping your fingers around him. You drag your tongue across the tip of him, cleaning up the precum that glistens before you. He perches on his elbows and watches you–ass in the air– take him into your mouth. His eyes roll back and he grunts when he reaches the back of your throat. You toy with him for a few seconds, letting your tongue and fingers mess with his length. When his hands grip your hair and pull you away from him, you frown.

“I love this so much, but I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

“Maybe I want you to cum.” you dare, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Fuck, you little shit.” he groans, moving away from you. “How do you want it?”

“However you want it.” you smile. He shakes his head, a wide grin on his lips.

“Lay on your back for me baby.” he directs and you listen embarrassingly fast.

“I’m on the pill.” you quickly tell him, marveling at the idea of him finishing inside of you. He pulls his lip between his teeth and kisses you gently, situating himself between your legs.

When his tip runs through your folds, you open your mouth and lay your head back, leaving your neck open. He sucks on it as he sits at your entrance. You feel as if you may explode if you have to wait one more minute to feel him inside of you.

“You’re so wet. Fuck.” he whimpers, finally slipping himself into you.

In unison, you both moan. When he’s buried deep inside of you, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. He kisses your cheek and then finds your lips, his hands on your hips. Once you tell him to move, he pulls out before slamming back into you until his pubic hair meets yours. His hips continue to snap into yours, the sound of skin filling the room. You cry his name and he buries himself into your neck. His mouth opens and his teeth latch onto your skin. He doesn’t bite, but you can feel his top set marking your shoulder. The whole idea makes you clench around him. He removes his teeth and rests his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek. He mumbles above you, his sweaty curls in your eyes.

“You feel so good.” you say and his eyebrow knit together closely. “So big, baby.”

“Jesus.” he cries, his thrusts getting a bit sloppier.

“Gonna cum, Josh?” you pant, trying to tip him over the edge. “Do it.”

With a groan, he removes himself from you and grabs your waist to move you to your stomach. When he taps your side, you raise yourself on all fours, sticking your ass up. He slides himself through you again, a trail of spit leaving his mouth and falling onto your pussy. He slides in again but doesn’t stop to allow you to adjust. His hips snap furiously into your ass, pornographic noises clouding your judgment. He unties the ribbon in your hair and uses his hand to mess it up a bit. Grabbing a handful, he pulls you up to him and kisses your cheek. You whine at the position, mouth hanging open as you fall apart. In one swift motion, he shoves you down into his pillow, your cries being silenced. Screaming his name, he holds your head in the pillow. You can hear him grunting above you, painting an image in your mind you’ll never be able to shake away from.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re gripping me so tight. You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he taunts.

“Nope.” you say, your voice in shambles along with the rest of your body.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, this time, snaking a hand between your legs to work circles into your clit. You cry at the contact, trying to fight the feeling approaching in your stomach. “Fuck, mama. Cum for me, baby. Let it all go. Soak my cock.”

Doing as you’re told, you cum all over him. Your body is shaking rapidly as he still pounds into you. He’s chanting your name like it’s his religion as he lays his sweaty chest across your back. You’re still coming down from your high as he reaches his, lashing above you. You feel him paint the inside of you, all warm and wet. He falls onto you, both of your body’s exhausted.

After a few moments of being pancaked in between the bed and him, he lifts himself off of you and pulls himself out. Your body feels cold without him tucked away inside of you, but you’re thankful to get out of the position and breath. You stand and disappear into the bathroom while Josh changes the sheets. When you return, he’s under the covers waiting for you. You smile and so does he as you walk back to him–still completely naked.

“I’m hard again just watching you walk back here.” he says, pulling back the covers for you. You smack his arm playfully and take a sip of your water.

Setting it down, he grabs your waist and pulls you down on top of him. You laugh as you fall on him, crushing him. Instead of pushing you off of him, he holds you tighter on top of him. You let him have his moment, his love language has always been physical touch. Enjoying the moment, you hold his head in your arms, your nose buried into the damp curls on his head.

Eventually, you slide down so your head is resting on his chest. You both lay there in silence. You listen to his heart and breathing, your eyes beginning to shut. You’re not per say, tired, but being in Josh’s arm in his room at this exact moment, makes you want to forget the outside world around you. But of course, you’re not lucky enough for that.

“Can we talk about this?” he says quietly, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“I just want to enjoy this, Josh.” you say.

“Me too. But I can’t enjoy this until I know how you’re feeling.” You rotate yourself so your chin is on Josh’s chest, the fronts of your bodies pressed together. He looks exhausted, but somehow more beautiful than ever. His face is still red with a sheen of sweat over it. His curls are frizzy and lay lifelessly atop his head, casting a shadow over his eyes. “So will you talk to me?”

You nod. “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what? Us?” when all you offer is silence, he gets the drift. “Is this because of what happened on graduation night?” Once again, your eyes fail to meet his so they stare at the soft skin you’re resting on. “You know I meant nothing of what I said that night.”

“You mean when you told me I’m holding you back from your dreams?” Your voice is hoarse and cold.

“Is that why you didn’t want anything to happen between us? Because I said that so long ago?” he asks. His tone isn’t snippy or rude, it’s curious and a bit hurtful. His breathing hitches below you, letting you know he’s nervous for what comes next.

“No, Josh. I’m afraid if you realize your feelings for me, I really will hold you back from your dreams.” you admit in a low tone.

“I realized years ago.”

“And you succeeded after I let you go.” your voice is raspy and you can feel your bottom lip quiver.

“I succeeded because I was able to leave here. It had nothing to do with you. How many times did I want to quit growing up? You never let me. You pushed me just as hard as Jake did.”

You cover your face with your hands, trying to hide your expressions. He pulls them into his hands and gives you a blank expression. “Josh, I can’t–”

“I don’t care if my career is ruined, that’s not what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid I’m going to love you more than I’ll ever be allowed to.” he says firmly. Your heart burns as your eyes meet his. They’re glossed over and filled with emotion, so much, you can hardly stare at him any longer.

“I love you.” you sputter out. “I want to be with you–”

“See? So let’s be together.” he says, a smile engulfing his face. He cups your cheeks, dragging you in for another kiss.

“Okay.” you melt into his touch. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Really?” he asks. “I won’t ask you to give up anything. We’ll work around your life.”

Your cheeks are a bright red as you drop your head onto Josh’s chest. His arms cover your back, holding you tightly into his body. Skin to skin, you feel more seen than ever before. He’s your home, you realize that now. After being apart from him for so long, you got used to the pain in the corner of your heart. But after tonight, you know the pain will never subside.

“I’m sorry I never answered your calls or texts.”

“Shh. I want to enjoy the moment.” he mocks your words from earlier. All you’re able to do is laugh at him and tuck yourself back into his arms.

You lay awake, listening to his breathing. The sound consoles you, lulling you to sleep. Your mind wanders about your future with him, the years wasted pushed behind you. You’re surprised it took you so long to realize who was the one for you.

It had been him all along afterall.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka smut #sam kiszka #greta van fleet smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka gvf #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiskza smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #gvf

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

It Was Only Supposed to be a One Night Stand (part 8)

Tw: Yandere, Montgomery came from a dysfunctional family, fat shaming, like bullying from parents

LOOK AT MY NEW SERIES THAT COMBINES YVES AND MONTGOMERY TOGETHER

Part 9

After four long days and three steamy nights, you finally reached the homestead that Montgomery was raving about.

It is massive. Lively too.

Even during winter, the animals were kicking up a fuss inside their respective barns. The main, open fields didn't seem to be growing anything, but you can see a couple of greenhouses side by side. The silos tower all the nearby buildings. Everything seems all over the place yet organized at the same time, perhaps you're not well versed in the art of farming, you wouldn't get it.

He drove further down to a large, two storey farmhouse. The wooden planks worn with age and memories, plants creeping from under the sheet of powdery white. Montgomery parked right next to five other trucks that clearly saw better days. You turned your head to see that there is another living quarter, this time with two cars, but four vacant parking spots.

Typical of him, he gets out of the car first to open your door.

You held onto his hand as your boots flatten the snow below you. He has a protective arm around your waist, making you sure that you won't fall.

"We made it home." He pulled his scarf down to give you a kiss on the forehead. "Praise lord, we made it safe and sound." Montgomery rubbed your back up and down.

Praise lord? That's new. You never pegged him to be religious, seeing how he is behind bedroom and motel doors.

He struck his knuckles against the sturdy door that's protected by a metal gate. You eyed the rust coating them, wondering how old their properties are.

With this much resources, they should have been filthy rich. Why is everyone cramped into these two houses?

The door swung open to reveal an older male, with greying hair and a baseball cap. He is a lot shorter than Montgomery himself.

"Monty, my boy!" He exclaimed and excitedly opened the gate. Both men flung themselves onto each other and had a hug fest.

"I missed ya, pa." The older gentleman lets out a hearty laugh.

"Missed ya too, Ugly."

Ugly? That's... an odd thing to call your son. You can see that Montgomery's smile faltered a bit.

"So? Gonna introduce me to this beauty here?" His father smiled at you.

"This is (name), my partner." Montgomery clasped his hands on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. "Born n' raised in the city." He shot his father a look, as if hinting to not make you too uncomfortable with the countryside lifestyle.

"Huh. Now how did ya' get to meet my son? I know y'all city dwellers have sky-high expectations for lovers, especially in the looks department ." He guffawed and slapped Montgomery on the back. "I guess his heart of gold won ya' over."

Your boyfriend looks uncomfortable.

You changed the subject, asking if you could come in due to the freezing weather.

"Come on in! A friend of Monty is a friend of mine, I ain't have much from his side. So, I'm excited to get to know ya!" He steps aside to let the both of you in.

It definitely has a rustic aesthetic. Cushions and rugs worn and tattered. There are three German Shepherds sleeping on the couches. A fluffy grey cat sits atop one of them, eyes serenely closed.

The hearth is crackling loudly and its heat is warming the house up. You looked around to see numerous framed pictures of his family on all sides of the walls.

There are a dizzying number of different faces that you can identify. You wonder if he had a thousand siblings or these are including his cousins and niblings.

"Do I hear that Monty the Ugly is home?!" A high pitched voice rang from another room.

"Ya' sure did, Sugar! Our boy is home!"

A woman of similar age to his father, came rushing in. In her arms held a large wooden bowl filled with what looks like batter of some sort.

She set the bowl down on a table somewhere and hurled herself to Montgomery. She gave him a bone-crushing hug, it was so tight that your boyfriend had the air knocked out of his lungs. That's where he gets his habit from.

She whipped her head towards you, her eyes lit up even more and you could almost feel her gyrating on the spot.

"Oh! Who's this little sweet thing right here?" She let her son go before skittering towards you. His mother reminded you a lot of a hyperactive mouse.

"That's Monty's lover, can you believe it?!" His father replied with great enthusiasm.

She let out a squeal and squeezed your cheeks. "No! I can't. Praise Jesus, he finally found someone who loves him past his outside!"

"That's enough now, ma." He forcefully pried her away from you. She stumbled backward a little, her husband came to her aid but before he could defend her, she had something to say.

"What? I'm just showin' our guest how we welcome folks like them!" Whined his mother. Montgomery ignored them, preferring to inspect your face instead, he caressed your cheeks as he whispered, "I'm sorry about them."

"And I raised ya' better than to put your hands on your mother like that!" His father had a sudden change of tone, his face contorted into something a lot less friendly.

"I know that's right, Monty! The city corrupted your values, ya' should have stayed back and helped with the family business." His mother spat with malice.

"Really!? Right now? In front of my sweetheart?" Montgomery retorted with equal offense. He stood in front of you protectively.

They snapped their head towards you and took a moment of silence. Their animosity dropped as fast as it arrived, they returned to their smiles and giggles.

"Silly ol' us, where are our manners? You ain't even know what to call us!" The father hooked his arm around your neck and gave you a noogie. You wince at the sudden touch and pain.

"You can call me 'ma', and him 'pa'. Forget about the Mr and Mrs crap, we're all family here!" His mother clapped her hands excitedly.

"Hands off!" Montgomery's digits curled around his father's wrist, yanking it away from your head. He shoved him away from you and pressed you close into him. "Don't fucking touch them!" He shouted.

"What the hell has gotten into ya'? We're your parents, for god's sake! You don't get to talk to us like that!" Retaliated his father.

"Precisely, Monty! The city's no good for you. If only you listened to us and pastor--"

You interrupted their potentially disastrous argument, asking to meet the rest of the family. Like before, they immediately forget about their anger and go straight to being lovingly sweet again.

"Yes! I'll call those lazy bones down right now." The mother took a deep breath and began screeching their names, she moved towards the staircase and continued yelling. You had to plug your ears with your fingers, it was as loud as the train. Maybe even louder.

"While my wife's callin' them down, c'mon, I'll teach you their names." His father wanted to put a hand on your shoulder, but Montgomery growled at him. He rolled his eyes and let his hand drop to the side.

You stood in front of the second biggest framed picture in the living room. You let out a sigh of relief, at least you only need to remember the faces and names of 10 people, as opposed to 70 in the largest family picture.

All of them wore the same flannel shirt and type of jeans.

"That's Noel, our youngest. He's turnin' 25 this Christmas. Be careful with him, he's the softest among all of us. He just can't take a joke!" He pointed at the boy who had his hair bleached, his roots were showing. You took note of his rainbow shoelaces.

"That's Baby-Ruth. She's sweeter than chocolate, she's the only one showin' willingness to help out around the farm. Unlike a certain someone who decided to abandon us." He narrowed his eyes at Montgomery, and his father received a mean glare back. Baby-Ruth is the only glowing one in this picture who genuinely looks happy to be in it.

"Ah! Rufus the dog! He's a lean, mean machine, lemme tell ya that. He does all the heavy liftin', he could carry a full-grown cow across the field and not break a sweat! Just hopin' he would lay off the moonshine." Rufus looks horrendous in this picture, eyebags, tousled hair, and sunken cheeks.

"And that's your loverboy, Monty the Ugly!" He pointed at a younger-looking Montgomery.

You said that he looks handsome in this picture, you didn't understand why he's being assigned the title. But truth be told, he just looks average.

Upon hearing that, Montgomery felt his heart swell and he became bashful. But the moment was ruined when his father decided to laugh in your face.

"I guess big places like the city have some big variety of tastes. Not here, though."

You tried defending your boyfriend, feeling upset that he's unfairly treated in this family. Or maybe you felt offended when he implied that your standards are low. You said that he was well sought after in the city, people liked how strong and rugged he was. There is no way he's considered unattractive here.

What you said is not necessarily true in Montgomery's experiences, but it made him melt nonetheless.

You fully expected a shouting match with his father like earlier. But he only brushed it off and took it as a joke.

"Stop yankin' my chains, ain't no way the majority prefer... this-" He gestured towards your boyfriend. "-Over, this!" He pointed to the next family member.

You wouldn't admit it out loud. But whoever his father is pointing at is definitely a hunk. He has a million-dollar smile and striking hazel eyes. The man has his hair slicked back into a neat fashion, you can see his muscles peeking out of his flannel. He knows how to flaunt his good side.

"Our poster boy, Beau! All the ladies in town and out of town is chasin' after him. That's why, he's the face of our products. Shame that he married a woman that didn't quite match his level."

You asked him if he's calling his wife hideous.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Somethin' like that. You're a much better fit for him, but I guess to each their own."

You shot Montgomery a look, your mouth agape. Is his family always like this? He looked away shamefully, starting to regret visiting home.

"Next! Betty the fatty! She could never seem to shed that weight." He chuckled. "I guess Mama's fried chicken's too good for her to resist! Breaking a chair or five never stopped her from getting seconds or thirds or fifteenths during Thanksgiving!"

You brought your hands to your head. You told him that they must be insane, Betty may be chubbier than the rest of them, but she looks normal. Perhaps even thinner than you are, given her height. Either way, She doesn't deserve to be talked about like that.

"Ah, don't you worry. I was just kiddin'. She only broke four chairs with her fatass. Plus, she can take a joke. Unlike a certain wannabe blondie." Before you could even argue about anything else, Montgomery squeezed your shoulder gently. You turned your head to see him shaking his head, pleading with you to drop it. So you did.

"We got the other end of the spectrum, Emerson the Skeleton!" Horrified, your eyes trailed to the end of his fingertips. He's pointing to an emaciated woman who has a scarf tied to her head, it looks like she's trying to cover up part of her hair. She didn't appear to be smiling and her eyes looked vacant.

"She's lazy. Barely helping out with the farm and always sleepin' in. Always spendin' her hard-earned check at the hospital, I wonder what's so interestin' over there."

You cannot tell if he was joking or if he truly did not understand she was suffering from some sort of illness.

"We worry for her, she's nearly 40 and unmarried. I reckon it's cause she ain't have no meat on her bones. Men like to go for something with a little more substance, ya' get what I'm saying?" He nudges you in the rib using his elbow.

Montgomery was about to jump in, but you raised a palm to him. Telling him that it's fine.

"And finally, our oldest. Mary-Grace. Can't believe she's turnin' 50. Time has gone by so fast." He has a wistful look on his face. The oldest looked... tortured. She seems so angry yet so trapped. Her deep wrinkles show you unseen expressions.

Interestingly enough, he has nothing much to say about her.

"Then, there's us! Me, Robert Yeller and my lovely wife, Anna-Mae Yeller. We've been married for 50 long years. She's just a couple months older than I am, but she acts just like my mother!" They both look the happiest. Everyone except Baby-Ruth looked like they were attending a funeral in comparison.

You asked how old are they now.

"We turned 66 this year." The gears started turning in your head. You rather not think about it in the end.

"-meet the new addition to our family!" Your ears perked up at the voice of Anna-Mae. You turned around to see Noel, Emerson and Mary-Grace Yeller. Your eyes rolled down to see a gaggle of children, excitedly chattering among each other.

The children squealed when they saw you and Montgomery. They were like high-speed bullets the way they came running. They latched onto you, their weight making you lose your balance and fall to the ground.

You groaned as they laughed and hugged you close.

"I know y'all are excited to meet your new pibling. But guys, git off them, you're going to scare my Sweetheart away!" He shooed them off you, they shrieked playfully as Montgomery exaggerated his stomps, chasing them around the room until they slipped off to somewhere else to play.

Montgomery seems to get along with the children well. You wondered if he wanted children later in life, that may be a problem given the economy is on a downward trend.

Your boyfriend helped you up, checking you for any injuries sustained.

You turned your face to look at his siblings. They're... nothing like their parents personality-wise. They stared at you cautiously, a conflicted look rested on their faces as soon as their eyes landed on Montgomery.

There was tension in the air, Mary-Grace furrowed her eyebrows, looking at Montgomery. Then he turned to you, and an unreadable expression emerged.

"Welcome. Make yerself' at home." She was curt. She turned around and walked away.

"Hello." Emerson rasps. She gave you a small wave and a polite smile. She too, left the room promptly.

Noel looked you up and down, seemingly judging you.

"How was life like in the city?" He ignored you, asking Montgomery.

"Show my partner some respect, if you know what's good for you." Seethed Montgomery through his gritted teeth.

"Sup." He gave you an upward nod. You mirrored his behavior.

"Were you happy?" Asked Noel, treating you like you're invisible. "Were they any less 'sensitive' than me?"

"Noel." He snarled. "Not now."

To your surprise, Noel didn't inherit any of their Southern accents. He almost sounds... Californian.

Noel snorted. "Welcome to the Yeller household. I can tell you're going to love it here." The sarcasm dripping from his tone definitely didn't go undetected. He went back upstairs, you heard a loud slam shortly after.

"Heh, guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, amirite?" The couple laughed in unison.

Montgomery rubbed your arm up and down. "Let's go." He whispered.

He excused himself needing to set the luggage down in the bedroom. You followed him to the car, not wanting to be in the same room as the unstable elderly couple.

What have you gotten yourself into?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader #oc montgomery #tw fatphobia #tw fat shaming #tw dysfunctional family

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97keanu · 6 months

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hi dearest, i loved your gorgeous response to my ask about getting high with keanuverse characters!

i’m stoned again, watching bill and ted and feeling creative…. the song “two heads are better than one” from the movie rlly has me lost in thought about just how great a bill and ted threesome would be

anyways, much love 😚

- 🍃anon

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳Ofc! As one crusty stoner to another, I love getting your asks hehe, and this one was actually the one that helped get my out of my writers block! <3 decided to add some holiday spice after finding out that San Dimas actually has had freak snow storms in the 90s.

Tags/CW: drugs/getting high obvi, stoner/skater!reader(they met b&t at the skate park hehe), threesome, oral (m/f receiving), p in v, p in a, double penetration, spitroast, soft doms!Bill + Ted, claiming, semi bimbo-fied, reader ends up feeling a bit dumb from how much c*ck she's taking, service top!Bill, commanding!Ted, primal-ish!ted, ted treats you like he owns you, objectification, you're basically a f*ck doll for bill and ted tonight, c*ckwarming.

The night's have grown long, and despite San Dimas usually keeping up the heat in the winter, today had dipped well into freezing degrees. The forecast, to everyone's dismay, predicted the snow storm of the century, and what better an opportunity than to bunker down and party with your boyfriend and his best friend..

Bill and Ted had already stocked their tiny apartment with snacks, VHS comedies they has rented, and enough weed to supply you all into next week. After your shift at the mall, you hurry to beat the snow that threatens to come down. You watch as a few straggling customers try to find something to do in the mall, but one after another, the lights of each store grows dim, until it's just you and other managers locking up. You head to your car as the wind picks up, prickling your nose with its cold hand. You arrived at Bill and Ted's place just as the flurries started to tumble, catching in your hair and melting as you come inside their cozy abode...

Ted is the first to greet you, taking the large pack of soda and groceries you brought from your hands with ease and smile. His warm lips kiss your chilly cheek and you feel the heat rising even more there. He takes your groceries to the kitchen to unload, and you follow, finding Bill sitting on the counter, a bag of potato chips already being devoured. His pale eyes are rimmed with red, making them seem so much bluer.

"Alright! Now we can finally party!" Bill cheers with a smile and offers you a high five.

You gladly accept, hoping get on his level soon yourself. Ted can sense this, and when he's done tossing the food into the fridge, he comes over and puts his arm around you.

"I held out until you got here, but Bill couldn't wait." He laughs, taking a lighter and joint from his orange coat pocket.

"We can share this one," he continues, and holds it out to your lips, placing it there when you're ready and lighting it for you.

You love when he takes care of you like that, treating you like his little princess and doing it all for you. It's what drew you in to him, the way he knew instinctively when to be there for you. Ever since he patched your knee up at the skatepark without hesitating, you've been head over heels.

What makes it better is, Ted has always known when to let you do it yourself as well. He's there to treat you right when you want it, but he doesn't think you need his help all the time. It's what made you two work so well.

You inhale your first hit, the smoke filling your lungs, expanding as you hold it. You pull Ted in, bringing his tall frame down to your level, and letting the smoke in your mouth find its way into his. He happily accpects, shotgunning the smoke while letting his lips finish with a well placed kiss at the end. You look into those deep chocolate eyes of his and can feel the smile that's forming on your lips.

Soon enough, you find yourself starting to feel the buzz, the joint getting smaller and smaller as the three of you make your way into the living room, plopping on the couch together. You somehow end up between Bill and Ted.

"We should like, totally put some flicks on, dude!" Ted says to Bill with a goofy grin.

"Right on! Let's watch Dazed and Confused!" Bill's eyes are droopy and his laugh happy.

You find yourself left next to him as Ted goes to pop the movie in. Your mind grows fuzzier and as you sit and giggle with Bill on the couch about dumb jokes, you find that funny feeling that's been finding its way in your stomach since you met the two stoners. You know you and Ted are dating, but when it started out, you weren't sure who you were more attracted to. You wonder if Bill still has residual feelings for you the way you do for him as his hand brushes yours on the couch.

Ted can see you two interacting from the kitchen, and to his own surprise, he smiles about it. He knows that when Bill and him first met you, that both of them liked you. He knows Bill was a good sport about it all, losing a rock, paper, scissors battle with Ted and backing off so that he could date you. Still, Ted wonders if it was ever possible that he could share you.

You however, have no idea that Ted has fantasized about letting Bill in on the relationship, so you pull your hand back from Bill's after a lingering pause. Ted rounds the corner of the couch and sits back down next to you, relighting up the end of the joint and sharing it with you once more.

You know if you get much higher you'll begin to feel it in your body, when it hits just right and every moment feels so much better than before. It's dangerous because of how horny that makes you. You know Bill and Ted share a room here, so it would be hard to find alone time with just Ted. As you inhale a particularly long puff, you begin to think it won't matter in the end, especially with the way Bill and Ted are looking at you now.

You place your hand on Ted's neck, softly beginning to pull him in to exchange the smoke in your lungs once more, but Ted moves. He takes his own hands to your cheeks, steadying you and pointing you into Bill's direction. Bill leans in, okay with the offer as long as Ted is, and you find yourself lost in those droopy, icy blue eyes once again.

His lips part, pressing against yours ever so softly. You're reminded once more that Bill has the face of an angel, and as you exhale into his mouth, it's as if he's stolen all the breath in your lungs. A tingle runs from your lips gently on his, and smoke swirls up into the air as it escapes the gaps between you two. You feel Ted's hands on your neck and waist, guiding you. Before you can think about what you're doing, your lips move against Bill's and suddenly all you can do is what feels good right now. You don't think too hard on the implications.

As your kiss deepens with Bill, you feel Ted on your neck, kissing and sucking there, his hands wandering your body. He pulls on your shirt a bit, and whispers in your ear, deep and husky, full of want.

"I want to show you off.."

You oblige, Bill breaking the kiss and watching as Ted helps to take your top off, undressing you slow. Even the way the fabric on your skin feels right now is making you horny. When it's gone, goosebumps form on your bare skin as the cold of the night rushes in to feast on it. The snow outside falls gently, with big lazy flakes layering on the ground.

Bill can't hide his smile, even if he tries. He loves the way your body looks, and the two men exchange glances over it, and you feel a bit like an object to be shown and played with for a moment. That makes the wetness that was budding between your thighs bloom even more, you start to love the idea of Bill and Ted taking their time with you, using you up like the toy you are. It's not even in a cruel objectification way. No, they're just two curious stoners who have needs that want to get out with your body, and you know if you asked them to stop they wouldn't hesitate. That trust between you three makes this all the better.

You let Bill part your legs, his hand running up your thigh and going so deep between them. A tingle rockets through your body at the touch, and Ted works on getting your bra off. Once it is, your nipples harden in the chilly air, and you look up with a smile, biting your lip and laughing as Ted eyes you hungrily. You've never seen him want you so bad.

Ted's warm mouth engulfs one of your nipples, while his hands move to tease the other. The sensation is almost overwhelming alone, but you're practically soaking from how Bill's hands move against your cunt, not yet finding their way around your panties. Bill keeps his hand there, playing with you beneath your skirt until you're moaning out. You gasp when he parts your legs further, getting on his knees between them and bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. You look down at those brilliant blue eyes and that smile of his, watching with suspense as he slowly pushes your panties to the side, letting your damp cunt get a taste of that cool air.

You practically writhe against them both just from that. Your moans increase as Bill dips his head deeper, his mouth warmly blowing against your exposed pussy. You cry out as his tongue laps up the whole of your cunt, making sure to wet all of you even more, being sure to taste you completely. Ted continues at your breasts, and the combination of the two already has you practically cumming. Being this high makes it so easy, makes every movement feel so much more extreme. You feel the heat of your high radiating off your body, particularly your cunt right now.

Bill continues, bringing his attention to your clit, circling slowly, then faster. He uses a flat tongue between to really give all of it attention at once, then drives you made when he sucks softly. Your hand finds his mess of blond curls and tangles in it, trying to keep him on your clit when he's sucking hardest, before being overstimulated and having to take a breath. The two men laugh a few times from how much you're enjoying this, and you feel like you're under such a microscope for them right now. Like something for them both to play with together.

"I want you to moan his name..." You hear Ted's voice whisper to you, and you glance into his eyes.

He wants this. He wants to see you submit to his friend the way you have to him. You bite your lip, trying to really feel ready for that, and as Bill's mouth sucks once more, you do, calling out his name.

"Bill...! Please, god...it feels so good...!" You cry out, cunt aching for more.

"You'll have to ask him to let you cum. Maybe even beg..." Ted continues to instruct, and you nod like the good little slut you are, brain empty of everything except pleasure and pleasing right now.

Your legs shake as you begin to come closer, your pussy bucking into Bill's mouth for any friction it can get. Your nipples are so sensitive, and Ted takes his time making sure each are sufficiently attended to, his hands sometimes roaming else where to squeeze and hold. You feel your pleasure rising, and you don't know how much more you can take.

"Please, Bill! I need to cum so badly..." You whimper out, and see him looking up at you, his hand moving to take over on your clit so he can speak.

"That's right, I want you to cum for me. I want you to be a good little toy and cum while moaning out my name for me." Bill commands, and you don't even try to deny him.

He puts his mouth back to your pussy, taking all of it once more, sucking and licking, a few small nibbles with well placed teeth sending you over the edge, driving you absolutely mad. You clutch his hair, clutch onto Ted who's begun to twist and bite your nipples the way you like, and waves of pleasure pass over your body as your legs shake and practically clamp down on Bill's head. Both men hold you fast, keeping you still, keeping your legs open as your ride out wave after wave of pleasure. You feel completely gone, your body stimulated beyond what you thought possible, and your orgasm goes on for far past what you thought it would. Bill and Ted are not ones to quit, however, and their tongues and hands keep you going until you're completely satisfied.

When your muscles finally give up, legs parting and falling to your sides, they both take a breather. Ted rests his head on your chest, that rises and falls quickly, tiredly. Bill rests his head on your inner thigh, eyes barely open, looking at you with a satisfied smile. The three of you take all the time you need to recover, simply enjoying laying there together. It's not like there's anywhere to go in the morning, the snow has piled up way past what they thought it would. You guys have all the time in the world to explore each other.

Bill is the first to move, reaching over and taking a deep hit of the joint once more. He passes it to Ted, who passes it to your lips once more. You wearily take another hit, unsure if you could even get much higher, but there's no way you're about to let them both out smoke you after that. Ted finishes his hit and puts the joint on an ashtray on the coffee table.

Ted helps move you, pulling you up til you're on your hands and knees on the couch. Every move you make sends shock waves of residual pleasure through your legs and stomach, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning from just that. Your cunt wants so much more now, aching to be filled and throbbing from what Bill's already done to you. You, almost helplessly, as Bill gets on the couch in front of you, his cock flopping out of his sweatpants as he pulls them down.

Ted moves behind you, and you can't see what he's up to, but in a moment, you feel the heat of the tip of his cock against your ass. You shiver as all of it flops against your ass, glancing back and seeing Ted measuring his cock there, seeing how it will fit so nicely and deeply inside of you. You turn back to Bill, and without having to be told, take his cock in your hand, stroking it and admiring how much girth he had.

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out like the dumb little fuck doll that you are, and Bill takes advantage of that, slipping his cock in as deeply as possible. You want to cry out but it comes out choked from how deep Bill is in your mouth, still in utter pleasure from how Ted slips his cock against your soaked cunt. Soon enough, Ted dips into your pussy, finding his way in slowly, but not stopping until he's gone as deep as he can. You're aching and stretched out by the time he gets to the hilt of his cock, and all you can do is look up at Ted who's slowly fucking your mouth the same way.

The two men keep taking what they want from your slutty little holes, and you find yourself closing your eyes and losing yourself to the sensation of being used so freely. You can't believe you've let both of them take you like this, trapped between the two of them so you couldn't get away if you tried, mouth and cunt filled to the brim with cock.

You feel Ted's hand reach up and grab your hair, pull it so that you can look back and see him. He keeps pulling you up until Bill's cock falls out of your mouth, and Ted's mouth is at your neck. You watch like a limp doll, unable to fight back, as Bill comes closer, taking your breaths in his hands, squeezing them together and lapping them up.

"You're pussy is mine, you got that?" You hear Ted grumble in your ear as he claims that part of you with his cock, his hand still pulling your hair.

You nod, unable to even speak at this point, letting and wanting them to do whatever to you, feeling so easily overpowered.

"Bill's allowed to have fun with your other two holes as much as he pleases, however..." Ted continues as Bill feasts on your breasts and let's a hand snake to your clit.

You squirm as he plays with you there, the cock that's filling you so deeply combined with that stimulation bringing you to your next orgasm. You spasm, your body unable to stop itself for cumming. Bill continues to work his hands on you as you work through yourself round of pleasure for the night. When you're finished, Ted's cock stalls for a moment, and you whine out.

"Tell him thank you for letting you cum." Ted instructs, face next to your neck, watching as Bill rises from your tits.

"T-thank you, Bill..." You stammer out, and Bill smiles, bringing your head towards him and kissing you deeply once more.

You happily kiss back, letting Bill explore your mouth with his tongue and yours doing the same. You can't believe how commanding your usually sweet, goofy boyfriend is. How how badly his best friend wants you. You also don't care for the implications, all you need right now is both of these men fucking your brains out until you're a mess that can barely walk. You let Ted slide of you, and with Bill's help flip you around so you're facing Ted once more. They both help to pick your weight up, and you easily slide back onto Ted's cock with your wet pussy. Bill reaches down, sliding some of your wetness to your ass.

"Is it okay if I try this?" You hear Bill ask, obviously wanting to try out your ass. You can tell he's half asking you, but who he's really asking is Ted. You nod, but Ted speaks up.

"As long as it's not her cunt, bro. I don't want anyone else accidently getting her pregnant, that's my job..." The way he talks about you like your his property has you wanting more, you feel so bare and ready to be used right now.

Bill nods, and slowly rubs his cock against your asshole, making slow movement, ready to stop if you were to protest. But you don't. You want both of them to fill you up down there, to feel completely full by both of their cocks was becoming more and more important as the time went by. You moan out as the tip of his cock begins to softly and slowly glide into your ass. Bill here's you groan in slight discomfort as it goes deeper, and he softly kisses your neck, assuring you. Ted doesn't move his cock inside you, not while you're so carefully starting to take Bill's. Instead, his hand goes to your clit, rubbing soft circles and easing tension from having Bill slowly go deeper inside you.

You welcome the pain and the pleasure of both, both men's mouths somewhere on your skin and kissing the pain away. Soon, Bill's entire cock has found it's way snuggly in your ass. You moan from how much it is, and for a few moments any slight movement from either of their cocks is driving you wild. Ted keeps his hand busy on your clit, kissing you deeply and sucking on your tongue as both of them slowly begin pumping in and out of you.

Your leg's can hardly hold themselves up, and you're lucky that both men can keep you suspended over their cocks so easily. You take Ted's cock in your pussy with ease, and slowly begin to take Bill's in your ass as well. You feel a heat like never before back there, and every time Bill plunges deeper, it's as if he's hitting a spot that you've never even tried before. You're a dumb mess between the two men, sloppily kissing both of them and changing when the other guides you to another. You feel pure bliss and ecstasy from how much pleasure is being taken from your sensitive cunt and asshole. Ted even makes sure to give your breasts the attention they need, before trading off to Bill who cups them from behind.

You feel both men's cocks rubbing harder and faster inside of you, feeling only a thin barrier between the two of them. You're stretched and full to the max, moans and words a jumble of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut from how badly you need to cum a third time. For a moment, the high makes you wonder if you haven't already, that's how good it feels to be sandwiched in between your boyfriend and his best friend. You don't even care if they use you as their fuck doll for the rest of the weekend. Part of you wishes the snow never let's up.

You feel Ted's cock begin to get harder first. Then Bill's follows, taking deeper and faster blows at your hole. You don't know how much more you can take, and you're babbling about how good it feels, while both men laugh at what a mess you are, enjoying the pleasure of taking so much of your body.

"God, babe, I can't believe how much of a slut you've been tonight. If I knew you were such a naughty girl, I would have shared you with Bill ages ago..." Ted groans out as he gets closer, looking you in the eyes, watching how hard it is for you to keep them open. You nod along like the dumb little whore you are.

"Yeah, I could have gotten a turn at taking such a tight asshole then." Bill whispers into your ear, biting and sucking your neck when he's done.

You feel completely taken by both of them. Completely owned. Completely devoured.

Your body relaxes into the pounding of your two holes and you let your trembling pussy cum for the third time tonight, taking all the pleasure it can get and then some. The unintended clenching and tightening of your holes sends both men over the edge. Ted first, who's faster cock slows and pounds cum as deep inside of your cunt as possible. Then Bill, who can barely slow down enough to finish, sealing his cock into your ass with a final stroke and letting his hot, sticky cum fill there.

Your body can barely keep itself up, and you whine when Bill and Ted take their cocks out of you slowly.

"Aw, does our princess miss being so full?" Ted asks as he pulls you onto his lap, both of your skins sweaty and glistening from the workout.

"Mhm..." You murmur, and to your surprise, and excitement, Ted lifts you up gently and let's you slide your pussy back onto his cock.

"There." He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. "Now you can keep it warm for me..."

You giggle a little and snuggle into his neck, and you see Bill stand up, likely going to clean up.

"Thanks, dude, I knew your babe would be a totally good fuck." Bill says over his shoulder lazily, but satisfied.

"Anytime, dude, use her holes whenever you want..." Ted says with a smile, eyes looking into yours, waiting for you to say no the way he has been all night.

With the way you've just been fucked by them, you wouldn't even dare to deny him. You hope that this isn't the last time this weekend, even. You snuggle back into Ted's neck, and he talks softly to you, praising you.

"You were so good tonight," his dominating voice gone, now ready to give you the care you need. "You just tell me anytime you don't want to, we'll stop right away."

"No, I..." You breathe into his neck. "I like how you two used me up...I think I needed this..."

You feel his arms wrap around you, almost like a protective barrier between you and the world, and you sink happily into him, your cunt still warming his cock perfectly.

"I'm glad, you were such a good girl for us, I'm happy you had fun too..." His voice seems sleepier by the minute.

You hum a positive reply, and he keeps praising you, drawing little circles on your back until you fall asleep right there.

You're thankful for a snow storm in San Dimas.

#bill and ted fanfic #ted logan x f!reader #ted logan x reader #bill preston x reader #ted x reader x bill #my writing

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