#hand on my heart; hand on my stupid heart

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #smut #cod smut #reader insert smut #one shot #Ghost with OCD is my roman empire #he’s so much more well adjusted than I usually write him but it was fun #holly writes

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist For I Can Do It With A Broken Heart:

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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[purple-writer8]

Heather - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky… she’s got you mesmerized. While I die.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, oblivious az

1.2k words

Masterlist :)

Crushing on the shadowsinger was a bad idea, you knew that since the moment you joined the Inner Circle centuries ago. It was a family, and familiar dynamics could very well be affected by your stupid little crush, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating for him.

You were a master of lies, Azriel’s second in command as Spymaster— you were good at being a chameleon— at lying. So you’ve spent your entire life in the Inner Circle, lying to everyone, hiding your feelings for Azriel because surely you were not worthy enough for the shadowsinger. 

He was one of the strongest warriors in Prythian, the only current shadowsinger, an Ilyrian. You… you were just a sneaky thief turned spy. A lesser fae from the Winter Court, with eyes so white, you were terrifying to your enemies. Fingertips so cold, that with enough conviction, whatever you touched turned into frost. 

You weren’t enough for Azriel, or anyone really. The High Lord had found you three hundred centuries ago, you had somehow snuck into Hewn City, and then you had stolen heaps of artifacts and sold them in the Winter Court for profit. You were stealthy and quick, something he had appreciated when Cassian and Azriel finally brought you to him.

Rhysand gave you two choices: to be handed over to Kallias as a criminal, or stay in his court and serve him— because he was sure you would excel as a spy. In exchange, you got a family, gold, clothes, and a warm bed. It was a no-brainer for you.

Azriel and you were a dream team and with time, your feelings for the shadowsinger went from admiration to adoration. Who wouldn’t adore him? He was perfection, he was everything, and he was the love of your life— you weren’t his, though. 

You had never expressed your feelings because, frankly, you were not sure that you could handle rejection. So you pined and loved him in silence, hoping that one day a miracle dawned on him, and he would somehow fall for you— a frosty lesser fae. You knew you two were not mates, but cauldron, you could wish and yearn. 

It was more than wishful dreaming, though sometimes you thought that just maybe— maybe he reciprocated your feelings. He was so kind to you, so doting, so careful.

Though, that all stopped when Elain Archeron dropped into all of your lives. You liked Feyre, and loved Nesta— but Elain, you hated her. The middle Archeron was perfection, everything you were not. She was soft, kind, beautiful, High Fae, and… Azriel liked her.

You knew it was bad that you hated her for being of his interest, but you had never once claimed to be a good person. Two years into her arrival and you could not stand the likes of her. 

You were sitting in the River House, playing board games with the Inner Circle, Nesta, and Lucien. Much to your delight, Elain hadn’t joined. It was the beginning of winter in the Night Court, and though you were made of ice— you weren’t immune to the cold. You shivered as you laid down one of your cards, and it caused Cassian to laugh at you.

“You turned my room into ice last winter solstice, and now you shiver?” He teased you, making you roll your white eyes at him. “Should’ve brought a coat,” Feyre taunted you, and you nodded. “Guys, I really thought it wasn’t as cold,” you chuckled, rubbing your cold as ice hands together to get some warmth, which was to no avail because there was no warmth inside you. Frost appeared in your hands at this action, causing you to groan. 

 Your heart stopped, though, when you felt a warm sweater wrapping around your shoulders. Your eyes flickered to Azriel, who gave you a small smile, “thank you,” you said softly.

 “It looks better on you than it does me,” the shadowsinger shrugged, his shadows coiling around your frozen hands, trying to warm you up. You smiled, about to answer, but his eyes snapped away from you, as did his shadows. Your eyes followed his gaze, meeting with Elain as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Your heart dropped, she was a sight for sore eyes, a sight for Azriel’s eyes. 

 She had him mesmerized, and you felt like you wanted to die. Inching away from Azriel, you continued your game, dropping his sweater unto the couch behind you. You were an ice fae, you could manage. 

When dinner came around, you were quiet all through the affair. You seethed in silence as you watched him drape the very same sweater he had given you, over Elain’s shoulders. The cold pulsed through your veins, and soon your utensils were turning into ice as you watched the scene unfold.

Elain told some story about her up-and-coming garden, and you got the urge to go and freeze her flowers to death. Obviously you did not. She was an angel, a good person. 

You kind of wished she were dead. You reprimanded your mind for being so evil. How could anyone ever love you? You were terrible… and not even half as pretty as Elain. Your thoughts were dark, and your heart made of stone-cold ice. Love was not something you would ever get. 

After dinner, you seethed outside. The snow that fell over you felt like fire on your skin, and you could feel your fingertips freezing as they created small snowflakes. “Come inside, it’s so cold outside,” that husky voice you worshiped spoke from the from door, causing you to turn to him.

His shadows rushed to you, swirling around your body to shield you from the snow. You turned away from Azriel, not wanting him to see you in your essence. Your veins shone black underneath your pale skin, your eyes glowing white, while ice slipped from your fingers and wrapped itself around you. 

You heard his footsteps crunching in the snow, then large wings wrapped around you in a protective manner as he towered over you. “Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, your eyes casting downward, not wanting him to see your eyes.

“Why?” He asked softly, scarred thumb wiping away frost that had gathered on your cheek. Then it clasped around your chin, tilting it upward so you looked up at him. 

His hazel eyes skimmed over your face slowly, “what’s wrong?” He asked softly, making you tilt your face away from his grasp. “Don’t.” You stated. You wished he knew, wish that you had been obvious enough, because you were so tired of pining for someone who did not love you back. 

“What?” He asked, a puzzled look happening upon his chiseled and devastatingly beautiful face. “You gave her your sweater,” you did not care how preposterous you were being, you couldn’t hold back. You had enough of this. 

"What? It’s just a sweater, does it matter?” Azriel asked, his shadows coiling around his ear to whisper in his ear. Jealous girl, jealous fae. 

 “You like her better.” The jealousy was pouring out of you, manifesting in ice that crawled all over your body. 

 “I can’t keep wishing I was Elain.” 

-

Author’s Note:

IK the elain/azriel x pining reader is done a lot butttttt i love this song and i wanted to write my take on the triangle with heather as inspiration!

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

#acofas #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #batboys x reader #batboys #acotar x reader #acotar fic #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand #Spotify

[saiidahyunie]

you in my heart 

chou tzuyu x f!reader 

synopsis: if i can keep myself close to cherish you, then my heart will forever be in your hands. 

warnings: fluff ; angst ? ; friends to lovers ; clc elkie and sana appear!

a/n: this fic is my creative writing lifeline soooooo :P

chou tzuyu doesn’t like idiots. 

in the many years of her glorious friendship with you, tzuyu has watched, in all scopes, just how damn impatient you were about your decisions. she’s seen it all - whether it’s simply put in which you threw caution to the wind and helped tzuyu ditch school just for a quick detour to the beach as a way to cheer her up after the argument she had with her parents. 

(might to add, that happened in the one week of getting to know each other.) 

or, whether it would be the way tzuyu saw you drawing, once and decided that the route of art was the destination. better yet, the slight hitch of breath of your decision - last second- of moving in with tzuyu, on the day her lease was up for renewal. 

these many things between the fine lines of dumb and stupid could not have prepared tzuyu for this: 

you being settled on the floor with a dark red shirt that had a white minimal graphic with the name of the brand being something from your dad’s work, hair set off neatly off to the side with a hint of fringe peaking at the top, an apple juice box in your hands washing down the ritz crackers you swiped from the box, without knowing how it fans the flames in every one of tzuyu’s nerves. 

you look at tzuyu, holding your gaze, jaw moving with two chewed crackers in your mouth, before averting your eyes to the crushed juice box next to you. 

“tzuyu,” you say, fingers fast on the wrapper fishing out another cracker. “you’re not gonna eat?” 

tzuyu says nothing, only shaking her head before settling back against the leg of the sofa, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“tzuyu,” you whine, grabbing her wrist that had pinches of salt all over your fingertips, “why are you not saying anything?” 

as if tzuyu can ever ignore the constant pull that she feels towards you. 

“what’s going on?” tzuyu asks you now, knowing that nothing positive ever comes out of your mouth when she’s soaking in this tone that you’re presenting, voice breaking high and towards the end, as though you wouldn’t be able to breath right if tzuyu does not talk to you, or look at you. 

“you’re a girl right?” 

tzuyu blinks once, doe eyes out in the open space while she’s unable to guess the trajectory that this conversation might go. 

“yes, and?” 

you smile, bright and warm, tzuyu nudges closer until her knee touches your thigh. 

“cool! me too!” you say. “well, i don’t know, actually. but, the point is that i’ve never dated a girl before. have you?” 

tzuyu’s sexuality has been acknowledged, conveyed, and accepted between the both of you without any real sense of words. you had always been perceptive, and when tzuyu’s eyes wandered on only at he women in the movies that she used to watch together with you during high school, you knew that your best friend was a lesbian, and squeezed her hand firmly to let her know that. 

it was never really discussed after that, until now. 

your sexuality, in tandem, has been acknowledged, conveyed, and accepted between the both of you devidating your realization through a sudden urge to declare the moment out loud on a random day. you tumbled your way onto tzuyu a week ago, holding her hands tight, screaming about how you barely realized that you were bisexual and how “everything makes so much sense to me!” 

ever since that day, tzuyu had to witness the only person she has loved even before she knew how to love someone else flirting with nearly everyone. she could only be supportive of her best friend’s journey up til this point. 

“i haven’t,” tzuyu replies. 

your face lights up, eyebrows arched and eyes wide open. “well, have you kissed another girl before?” 

tzuyu suddenly feels like she is neck deep in water that she’s not used to swimming in, struggling to keep herself afloat in her mind. “i…have.” 

your face beams more brighter than before it diminishes into the stark emptiness of the night after the flames on a bonfire slowly wither away. “hey,” you say. “you didn’t tell me about that, tzu! we’re besties, aren’t you supposed to tell me everything?” 

tzuyu scoots herself over to put a hand on your shoulder. “it was a long time ago,” she says. the world of sapphism was something beautiful to be apart of. seeing the pride parties to be an enlightenment of sorts while also pulling the heart in a more wrenching way. she wanted to belong there with the vast crowd of people but was also aware that she doesn’t want to put herself into that space, if it meant leaving your side. 

“it doesn’t really matter now.” 

“hey.” you say, scooting closer to match her. tzuyu’s hand lingers on your shoulder before letting go. “of course, it does. was it any good?” 

tzuyu doesn’t recall much from those separate experiences, let alone want to remember any from long ago. “yes, i think so. but it was like years since then, so it doesn’t matter.” 

“what makes you say that? why did you stop yourself? are you going to be kissing girls when we go to that pride party next week?” 

“i told you, y/n. it doesn’t matter. why are you even asking about this?” 

you have another smile spread across, hands moving up and down tzuyu’s arm, causing a ripple effect of goosebumps rising on the crook of her neck. “i have something to ask you.” 

when you pull your hands away, picking a cracker from the new stack you just opened, holding against tzuyu’s lips. 

when tzuyu makes no move to open her mouth, your encourage her by nodding despite becoming more and more doting and impatient (which was on brand for your antics). 

tzuyu merely holds it against her teeth, unwilling to take a bit nor choke on the bit after your request. 

you take a deep breath, and twine your hands with hers, looking into her eyes steadily. 

“i want you to kiss me.” 

these several plus years of friendship that tzuyu will never get enough of, tired was also out of the question. nothing could’ve prepared her for the opportunity of hearing those words that deeply carve out one of the core instincts that she has been fighting to keep within. 

the cracker falls out of tzuyu’s mouth.

you, on the other hand, face full of optimism and hope immediately replaced with frowns from the fallen cracker sitting on tzuyu’s lap, picking it up. your fingers brush against her hip bone, and tzuyu suppresses a gasp. 

also, you’re oblivious to tzuyu’s inner crisis, looking at the cracker before biting it, in the same spot more than a third of the cracker is caught between your teeth. 

“what are you saying?” 

“i want you to kiss me.” you say, seriously, after chewing the last part of the cracker that will haunt tzuyu’s dreams for the coming decades. 

“why?” 

“do people need a reason to kiss each other, tzuyu?” 

“when the people in the problem set are one’s best friends, then of course.” 

you sigh, troubled. “fine,” you say, not willing to look up from where you fidget with the ripped wrapper of the cracker stack. “you got me. i have a date with a girl this weekend and i have never kissed a girl, ever. i want it to be good for her. you’ve kissed a girl, and i want you to assess me.” 

“assess you?” 

nodding to tzuyu’s question. “i want it to be good for her, tzu! besides, you’re one of the few people that i trust the most. i want you to kiss me and tell me how it is. now are you gonna help me?” 

a few seconds of silence pass that the weight of it envelops every fabric and cell of their being, you begin to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, a habit that you procured in times of nervousness. 

“forget it,” you say abruptly. “i know that sana has kissed girls before. i’ll ask her—” 

“no!”

“no?” 

“no,” tzuyu says, holding your face between her soft hands. “i’ll do it,” she says. “i’ll help you with this.” 

—

you taste like a wintergreen mint. 

tzuyu tilts her head up, one hand spread across the back of your neck, the other, holding your chin so that she can deepen the kiss, until tzuyu herself begins to taste the minty aroma and feel like stardust. 

tzuyu also should’ve been keeping an open ear to the cautionary tune her heart laid out in front of her. her mind should’ve also said the same thing the way her brain racked the sole idea of kissing you for practice. nothing good would come out of this. you will kiss another girl sometime this weekend and many other girls after that, but tzuyu is weak and in love and can’t fathom not kissing you, not when you asked it yourself. 

your arms are coiled around tzuyu’s long neck, pulling her closer than ever before, even though the meters between the two of you now are only separated by the thin layers of clothes. gently trailing her fingers from your chin to your neck and waist, tzuyu hauls you up until you settle on her lap. 

the both of you break apart for a second, your eyes with a glint to them, dazed, glossy pink lips still parted, bodies molding together oh-so perfectly. 

it was you who kissed tzuyu for the first time, so tzuyu takes it upon herself to press your forehead with hers, chasing your lips for more. the kiss itself is less frantic and more gentle, taking her time skimming her hands across your back, tilting your head towards her, trailing your hands every single spot possible in the hopes of grasping something. eventually, you fingers are in her hair, taking apart the ponytail and running your fingers through it again. 

love me, tzuyu mouths out while she kisses you. love me, only me, no one else, just me. 

tzuyu’s lips find your jaw, feathery kisses until she meets the fork where your ear and neck meet. you let out a small noise from the bottom of your throat and tzuyu wants to have it all, to revel in it, keep it close to herself in her heart for the eons of years to pass. she finds her way to your neck, and the idea of marking you, to show the mystery girl that you’ll see know that she was here first, and with the premonition that she’ll stay with you forever–

under the crook of your neck, in the palms of your hands, hooked on your ribs as if the set numbers were like lifelines; anywhere, wherever you see fit. 

when you two finally break apart this time, you open your eyes, blinking rapidly to erase the remnants of the daze that was clouding the both of you, smiling softly that tzuyu thinks she’s in a dream. although, it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s dreamt something dangerously real, can’t accept the facts. 

but your body is warm between tzuyu’s palms, floral scent draping all of her sense. you were as real as you can be. tzuyu feels nervous with the pricks

of sweat coating her neck, heart rate struggling to keep calm inside her chest, threatening to break free from the cages. 

in her dreams, your eyes wouldn’t suddenly widen in disbelief, you wouldn’t clutch onto tzuyu’s shoulders, not willing to meet tzuyu’s eyes after that. 

a block forms, tugging from the depths of tzuyu’s chest. 

“y/n,” tzuyu asks, voice horse. “did i go too far?” 

you snap your eyes towards tzuyu, in fact not meeting her eyes, rapidly shaking your head. “no, not at all.” you answer, tone shrill. “but a–, that was—was really good.” 

finally meeting tzuyu’s eyes, your face swept in a vibrant pink. 

“that was?” 

you, in a flurry of sudden actions, pat tzuyu’s hair to flatten it, pinching her cheek, before breaking apart the bubble of a minty fulfilled dream that just happened a few seconds ago. “is that even a question?” you ask, licking your lips. “kissing girls is so different from kissing boys,” you say. “i liked this a lot. was it, um, w-was it good for you?” 

“what are you talking about?” tzuyu laughs, seeing a smile on your face. “you’re a good kisses,” she says, trying to be as objective as she can. this was a test, an experiment after all. not an outcry of feelings. “you know what you’re doing, so it won’t be bad for you this weekend when you go. i’m sure of that.” 

standing up, you pat down your shirt and sweatpants, saying, “okay good, i’m—i’m happy that it was good for you because it was good for me, clearly, and i–shoot—i should probably—” 

you don’t spare tzuyu another glance, running off to your room, the slam of the door echoed through the walls. 

tzuyu just sits there, back against the leg of the sofa, the half-eaten stack of crackers and empty glasses of water on the table, enthralling her attention as if they were people who just witnessed something out in public. her head hits the cushion behind her, clenching the scream wanting to be unleashed from inside her. 

for the reminder of how reality works in this world, things will–not remain the same between her and you. the air was already heavy with tension, anchored with tzuyu’s feeling, suspended in time with the words captive in the nooks and cracks of her body. 

tzuyu will have to learn how to live with the knowledge of how you taste, the small noises you make, the way your face shapes when her mouth is on yours, eyes closed as you chase tzuyu’s mouth like it was the last thing you had to do. 

she doesn’t know how to recover from this information. 

—

the two of you don’t talk about it. 

few days pass, and tzuyu leaves her pottery class. you arrive a few hours after you were sure that tzuyu was asleep. 

(she wasn’t asleep. in fact, she was waiting for you to come home. only able to fully rest when the sound of the door opening and closing, the soft sounds of your feet hitting the wood in and around the house.)

you and tzuyu have a thursday class together in music theory, sharing a shaken look between each other when the paths cross to the living room.

“you wanna leave together?” you ask, strangely nervous with a pensive look on your face. 

tzuyu nods her head, and that was it. 

you two don’t talk about it still, because there’s nothing to be discussed. 

after dinner, tzuyu finds herself going along to being kissed by you again. more practice never hurt anybody, or anyone for that matter. 

tzuyu slides in her bed with a heavy heat, lips aflame with the phantom stir of yours on them. 

it’s okay, she thinks. it’s gonna be okay. i’ll be okay. 

—

“you’re leaving?” tzuyu asks you on saturday, realizing in a manner that your date was today. a date, the whole reason you kissed tzuyu. 

you look dashing, transcendent beyond existence. tzuyu loves you so much. 

nervously, you start messing with the flimsy fabric of your dress pants, “i am,” you say, “did you want something?” 

“no,” tzuyu lies, heart clogging her throat. 

you take a step closer, breaking the bubble around tzuyu. “did you want to say something?” 

“no,” tzuyu lies again, heart in her hands. 

“okay then.” you say, “i’ll be going now.” 

“okay.” tzuyu replies. “have fun on your date.” 

something omniscient falls over the ever-constant glow on your face. “i will, i’m sure of it.” 

tzuyu feels her pulse accelerate, hands clenching and unclenching in succession. there’s so much that she wants to blurt out. so much that will ruin the close friendship that she has with you. but being selfish isn’t the way to go, the risk that is carried by making her feelings your problems too. 

it’ll be fine, tzuyu tells herself. this will pass too. she’s fine, she’s okay, she’s breathing—and if she keeps beating it down her being, maybe her heart won’t feel like it’s being trampled on. 

everything will be okay, this will all work out in the end. 

—

“something is wrong,” sana begins, eating her french fry, the same evening when she invites herself to tzuyu’s home with a bag of food and snacks. “you’re not okay.” 

“everything is great!” tzuyu says, chasing down her words with half of a boba drink. “and, i am okay.” 

sana’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “it’s not really you to lie in front of my face.” 

“i need you to stop prying.” 

“is it because y/n’s on that date right now?” 

“sana, i’m fine.” 

“shut up, it is, isn’t it?!”

“sana!”

“okay, i’ll stop,” sana says, raising her hands in surrender. “i believe you. everything is okay and you are doing fine.” 

—

you don’t offer more information about your date other than just saying, “we should go watch that one movie together, tzuyu.” 

tzuyu doesn’t even bother asking either. 

two days after, you come bearing another tempting proposition that steals tzuyu’s breath away—literally. 

“that one barista from the cafe we regularly go to asked me out,” you say, already straddling tzuyu’s lap. “i didn’t kiss that girl from saturday and i think i’m a little iffy about my–technique. can you help me with it again?”

tzuyu tears down the banners of doubts in her mind, providing her mouth pressing against yours, feeling like the can finally breath now after not being able to for so long. 

she doesn’t bother asking you about it, again. 

—

more and more kisses are being shared in the days leading up to your date. always in the evening, an hour before going to bed.

tzuyu finds out all the different ways in which you like being kissed. even though an unspoken boundary between them is crossed past the point of rational thinking. she finds herself putting up a boundary before it becomes all too much, too fast. like her soul feels like it’s being robbed of once those walls are up, but it’s okay. 

tzuyu tells herself that it’s okay. she will live through this. 

she’s fine, and everything’s gonna be okay. 

—

when you come back from the date, drunk, the sleep is immediately left from tzuyu’s body, and she’s alert, awake on the sofa. she puts her book and the small blanket back in their places, walking over to help you remove your shoes and find your way back into the house.

you look at tzuyu with a blearily smile, holding onto her waist tightly. “hi,” you say, grinning. 

“hi,” tzuyu greets back, holding onto you as you’re sliding on the floor, head lolling back on the head of the sofa. “are you alright?” 

“amazing!” you answer, giddy. 

“how was your date?” 

tzuyu blinks one eye open, grinning sarcastically. “oh? you didn’t ask me how it went the last time. this is a sign.” 

“you didn’t tell me anything either,” tzuyu also points out. 

you sigh, slumping your head on tzuyu’s toned shoulder. “true,” you mumble. “i guess it was okay.” 

“just okay?” 

tzuyu feels you nodding your head. “i am so tired, tzu!” you whine, nudging your head closer. tzuyu suppresses a shudder as she feels your eyelids fluter closed against her neck. “i’m gonna fall asleep right here, okay?” 

“that’s okay,” tzuyu says, pressing her fingertips into your scalp, just the way that you like it. 

“you’re the best,” you mumble again, sounding half-asleep. “do you know that? you’re the very best, tzu.” 

tzuyu doesn’t know how to respond without revealing the very depth of everything she feels about you. 

“i guess,” your whisper is like a knife through the curtain of silence between the two of you. “i guess the problem is that no one is you. they don’t kiss the way that you do.” 

tzuyu’s heart stops. “y/n, what do you mean?” 

…

“y/n?” 

…

a lack of a reply prompts tzuyu to thread her fingers through your hair, gently tapping your shoulder. “y/n.” she softly calls. “don’t you know to not say things like this to me?” she whispers too, confident that you were asleep. your breath steady, head heavy. 

you mumble something closely incoherent, and your head sags into tzuyu’s chest. 

despite the tumultuous beat of her heart, tzuyu finds herself smiling, as she cradles your head, hoping that laying on her lap would be more comfortable for you, and drapes the blanket over your legs. 

“that’s the issue with me, too.” tzuyu says while palming your hair. “i guess i stopped kissing other people because they weren’t you. i wish i could stop looking for you in every person that i meet.” 

—

it’s not like tzuyu was not aware of the happy hour event that’s regularly held at that one bar that the friend group usually ends up in at a night like this, but it’s just that she didn’t care enough about it, especially after living for about three months in a new city. 

two days after you realized that you were bisexual, you looked at the poster that announced the party for the lgbtq community happening on a friday night well off into the new semester with a newfound excitement. “we should go here!” you shrieked while pointing at the poster. “i didn’t even know that this was a thing.” 

“it’s a thing alright,” tzuyu answers, resigning herself to the fate of ending up at that party, especially a few weeks before happening. 

“have you ever been to a party like this?” 

“not a lot, but a few.” tzuyu replies. “they’re interesting.” and unfamiliar, because they’re loud and crowded. the heavy bass of music blasting through the speakers, making her heart match to the beat of the rhythm. 

“well, you should show me around then!” you had said, and that was it. 

now, about a little over three weeks or so after tzuyu first made out with her best friend only to help you practice for dates with people that weren’t tzuyu, standing in front of the said best friend, trying to obviously leer at your appearance. 

you were wearing a white crop top shirt with ripped jeans layered with a black leather jacket. this outfit in particular had been printed in tzuyu’s brain since she saw you wear it for the first time—and a one piece dress

you catch tzuyu looking and wink. “what? i look good, don’t i?” 

‘good’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, but tzuyu nods, nonetheless. 

bounding up with tzuyu, arms interlocked together. “thank you!” you exclaim. “you have to look great too! when did you buy this blouse?” you ask, gesturing at tzuyu’s outfit. “i have to borrow it one day,” you say, as you make your way outside the house, head resting on tzuyu’s shoulder.

“okay,” tzuyu readily agrees despite it being her favorite blouse and your tendency to not return her clothes after ‘borrowing’ them. 

the club is crowded by the time you reach there—full of people that tzuyu recognizes the way gay people tend to recognize each other across the campus, and those she does not. 

your face is set with an ever-present grin, taking in the clamour and infecting excitement of energy that’s radiating of all the people here. all eyes were on you and you just seem to bask in it, but your eyes were on tzuyu. there’s a low glo to you. the only person glowing in a sea of people. tzuyu is so in love with you that it aches, it aches, and it aches. 

“let’s dance!” you yell over the sound of the booming music. 

tzuyu is pulled into your arms the minute she agrees to it. sinking into your arms as though she always belonged there should be weird, tzuyu thinks. it’s supposed to be weird, especially because you and her couldn’t even look at each other until a few days ago, until you came back home drunk and slept on tzuyu’s lap. 

but it isn’t. this feels as natural as breathing, normal like your heart beating, the sun rising, the world turning painstakingly slow. 

colorful lights dance on your face as you pull tzuyu close, hands curling around her neck. tzuyu, helplessly in love, holding you by the waist and sways with some sense of rhythm to the music. 

you pull tzuyu closer, so that her ear is met with your lips. “is this how it always is?” 

“i think so,” tzuyu replies. save for a few strobe lights, the night seems the same as it always does. it must feel different for you though. “how do you feel?” tzuyu asks, resting her chin on your shoulder. 

“good!” you cheer. “like, i didn’t even know that there were so many of us here! i truly believed that it would be less crowded. in fact, it is more.”

tzuyu nods, clutching her hands tighter around your waist. 

you sway and dance together, sometimes following the rhythm of the songs blasting out of the subwoofers, and the other times creating your own rhythm entirely, but that doesn’t matter. 

what matters to tzuyu—at this moment and all the others that have happened and will—is this; your bright smile reserved only for her, your warm hands around hers, your feet falling in step with her, your laughter when you dip down into her, or the high pitched call of her name that makes her twirl in her mind, the gaze fixated on her lips, the grasp on her heart: for now and always forever (in hope) will be you. and only you.

you and tzuyu break apart when you loudly demand that you’re thirsty and need a drink. tzuyu, helpless to do anything else, clutches your hand and makes you follow, even though she can’t wade through the crowd of strangers by the bar. 

tzuyu is grateful that the thump of the music in this area is a lot less, deciding on standing a few feet away, looking at you valiantly finding her way towards the bartender, jumping only when she feels a tap against her shoulder. 

elkie, one of the other friends that tzuyu is very familiar with, perhaps a year her senior, stands across her with a broad smile on her lips. 

“it’s been so long since i saw you here,” she says, stepping closer. “how are you doing?” 

“good,” tzuyu replies with a smile. “how bout you?” 

the music picks up in volume where they are, causing them to stand closer which isn’t entirely ideal, but it’s alright. elkie is good company, and tzuyu doesn’t mind. 

“are you looking for someone?” elkie asks, when she notices tzuyu look into the crowd of people at the bar station trying to see someone in a black leather jacket. “do you want me to help you find them?” 

“just my friend.” tzuyu replies, turning towards elkie. “she went in to get drinks for us and hasn’t come out yet.” 

elkie laughs. “she’ll come back, i’m sure. but tell me about you, tzuyu. are you dating someone?” 

tzuyu darts her eyes away from elkie. “i’m not actually, no.” 

elkie eyes brighten. “well, if that’s the case, call me if you want? you do have my number, right?” 

tzuyu blinks, before the realization dawns on her. “oh,” she says. “no.” she replies, turning towards elkie. 

“elkie, i—” 

elkie’s eyes widen with an understanding. “ah, you’re not seeing someone, but you do like someone,” she infers. tzuyu doesn’t say anything, only turning sideways to the crowd in which you have disappeared to. “yeah,” she replies, looking back at elkie.

she nods, gently holding tzuyu’s shoulders. “i get that,” elkie says. “i hope you figure it out, whatever that may be.” 

“thank you.” 

elkie smiles back, and plants a kiss on the corner of tzuyu’s mouth. “i think i saw someone i didn’t want to see, so i’m gonna run now,” she says. “don’t be a stranger, okay? let’s meet up for some lunch sometime—as friends, of course.” 

tzuyu smiles, patting her back neatly. “i will.” 

elkie excuses herself, walking swiftly past tzuyu, vanishing into the crowd. 

out of a bad habit set in the last fifteen minutes or so, tzuyu looks sideways to the crowd that you had ventured into, only to meet your distraught face. 

your face even turns furious when tzuyu meetes your eyes, but the undercurrent of hurt is open and raw. tzuyu instantly takes a step forward by instinct, wondering what caused it, relizing that you must’ve seen elkie kissing her cheek for this anger to be directed at tzuyu. but it shouldn’t bother you as much as it did—because why would it, it’s not like you to be jealous, because that would imply that you like—

huh. 

“you were here with me.” you shout over the music, steamrolling over close enough for tzuyu to see the shimmer on your skin. “we came here together.” 

“y/n—”

“if you dont’ like me back,” you start, shoulders dipping down in defeat. 

well, shit. 

tzuyu’s body breaks at that. 

“if you don’t like me back, then just say it instead of making me witness whatever the hell i just saw,” you say, drinking the entirety of the fizzy orange behemoth of a drink that was in your hand in one swig, and slamming tzuyu’s shot glass on the table. 

—

tzuyu finds you leaning against someone’s car, staring up at the sky. 

she wordlessly covers your exposed shirt with the leather jacket you dropped on the way out of the club. 

“that was elkie,” tzuyu breaks the silence. “she’s one of the few people that i know from coming to these parties. i guess we somewhat keep in touch now. we don’t like each other romantically. never, no.” 

you blink, while looking at her, nodding while fixing your leather jacket to fit it more better on your shoulders. 

“tzuyu,” you say. “what i said before—”

“is it true? tzuyu asks, urgency seeping in her words by the millisecond. “do you truly like me?” 

you look at tzuyu, broken. “i wore this outfit for you,” you say again. “i hate stiff leather.” 

tzuyu looks at you again, out of depth completely. 

“i hate this jacket but i love the way you look at me when i wear it. so i wore it today, with you. the only person i could see in this crowd today was you, tzuyu,” you say. “i came up with a silly, stupid excuse to kiss you. so you tell me if what i said was true or not.” 

“a stupid excuse?” 

“i didn’t have any dates,” you laugh without levity. “i had people asking me out, yes, but i couldn’t agree because they’re not you, tzuyu. the only person i want to go on a date with. the only person i want to kiss and be kissed is by you. so i lied to your face and told you that i wanted to practice. i made up with a terrible excuse to kiss you that doesn’t even make sense because i thought you could, maybe like me back too! and it really felt like you did, but then i see that and-”

“i like you.” 

you stop your train of thought from the sentence that just came out of tzuyu’s lips. “what did you say?” 

“i like you too,” tzuyu says, as rushed as she could say. “i like you so much. so, so much. it’s—” 

“you…what!?” you jolt with unbridled astonishment, crying, turning to grab tzuyu by the shoulders.

“why do you think i kept kissing you?” tzuyu asks with ardor. “i liked you too much to say no. i just—i couldn’t. and i wanted to go on dates with you and kiss you without having a reason, but i just couldn’t.” 

a bitter laugh leaves your lips, head hung down while you kick your sneakers into the asphalt. 

“you could—you could have,” you say, nodding in fervor. “you could have. i really, really wanted you to.” 

“i just didn’t know,” tzuyu says, regretfully, cupping your face. “and i’m sorry that i didn’t.”

your eyes flutter shut. “well, you do now.” you say. “you know that i like you. i like you so, so much, tzu.” 

“you know that i like you too. so, so much.” 

your eyes open again, teasing a glint quite apparent. “so, what are you going to do with this information, then?” you ask.

tzuyu, with her heart fluttering endlessly in her chest, brings you closer. with eyes closed, you meet tzuyu in the middle. 

you taste like beer, candy blossoms, and heaven. you taste like everything that tzuyu wanted, everything that tzuyu could ever want or need in her life. 

i love you, tzuyu mouths into yours as she kisses you. i love you, love you, love you. 

when you eventually break apart, a smile sprays across your lips, leaning in close, foreheads pressed together, one of tzuyu’s hands on your chest, right where the heart is patting frantically. “i love you, tzu.” 

another kiss is shared again, this time more slowly as the both of you took in the taste of exchanging lips, not wanting to ever pull away. it’s just you and tzuyu, entrapped in that silly little world that you and her have built around for so many years, now elevated to a new echelon. 

chou tzuyu doesn't like idiots.

but there was something about being with you as an idiot that makes it tolerable to deal with, and she doesn't mind that.

brushing your lips against tzuyu’s, you’re giggling and she follows. 

“i’ll embrace you like this, forever.” 

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #hyunie #twice imagines #tzuyu imagines #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu x reader #twice fluff #tzuyu fluff #chou tzuyu x reader

[eomayas]

the boy is mine • lee chan

pairing: lee chan x f!reader, (new) established relationship

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!

warnings: smut, pwp (kinda!), unprotected p in v (do not be like them), oral (m & f), fingering, dirty talk, use of the term ‘slut’ a lot but it’s ~endearing~, chan is super sweet and very in like with reader

a/n: unedited! chan has been clouding my brain bad!!!

the tension between you and chan was palpable—at least it felt that way. you wonder if anybody else could sense what was passing between the two of you, or if it was a secret that only the two of you were in on. whatever; either way you didn’t care. all you wanted was chan.

you cling to him, your hand wrapped around his bicep and head on his shoulder while he talks to seungcheol and minghao. seungcheol smiles at you two like a parent witnessing his sons first relationship, and each time you and chan do something cute, you catch minghao and cheol share a look.

it’s sort of how they all look at you and chan. most of it is because they think he’s a loser (endearing) and can’t really believe that he got someone like you to agree to date him. they think you’re cute and sweet, a bit innocent compared to their youngest member. they feel like they have to clean their act up when you come around, not wanting to taint your ears with unpleasant, male conversations.

if only they knew how you let chan fuck you stupid multiple times a week, to the point where you find is difficult to stand, or even look at him because you’re mildly embarrassed by how you acted like a little slut for him. oh well. they can believe what they want.

“yo, we’re about to start the movie!” soonyoung calls from the living room. seungcheol an minghao shuffle out of the kitchen and you begin to follow them until you’re tugged back by your boyfriend.

chan pulls you towards him by the waist, a small smirk on his face when you plant your hands against his chest. you look into his eyes and smile, heart beat getting faster by the second, and then place your lips on his. like most of your kisses, it gets heated quickly, tongues clashing and chans hands sliding down to grip your ass.

your body feels like it’s on fire, his touch searing and making you feel hot. if people weren’t waiting on you, you’d stay in this position all night.

pulling back, you gently bite down on his bottom lip, pointedly locking eyes with him. chan can’t help the blood that rushes to his crotch and the firm squeeze he gives your ass. “yo! come on!” soonyoungs voice interrupts the two of you and chan rolls his eyes extremely hard, making you giggle before you grab onto his hand and pull him out of the kitchen and to the living room where all 12 of his friends lay spread out.

there’s a space on the couch left open for the two of you and you both crowd onto it, chan sitting on the outside of you so you’re pressed against the arm. seungkwan clicks play on the movie and you curl up in chans side.

for the first few minutes of the movie, you and chan keep your hands to yourself, though the feeling of his weight on you is making focusing on the movie less of a priority. when seokmin gets up and comes back with a stack of blankets and tosses one to everybody in the room. the moment chan opens it and drapes it over the two of you, all resolve you once had shatters, now determined to sneak out of here and get him alone.

first, you innocently place a hand on his leg. he looked down at you and you give him a soft smile that ears you a kiss on your cheek. a few moments later, you move your hand up a bit higher, lightly brushing over his semi-hard dick. chan looks down at you once more, but this time you ignore him and play coy.

chan presses a long kiss against your temple, draping an arm around your waist and holding onto your hip. “channie, i’m tired,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. he locks eyes with you and you smile an all too familiar smile that makes him twitch in his sweats. “i wanna go to bed.” you fully palm him through his pants and he sniffs to mask the breath of air he sucks in.

seconds later, chan is standing up and announcing that the two of you are going to sleep, and all but drags you upstairs before you can say goodnight to everyone. jeonghan throws you a knowing look and your cheeks flush. there wasn’t a care in your body about who really believed what you and chan were going to bed, as long as you ended up in chans bed within the next few seconds.

once you get upstairs into chans bedroom, you’re all over him, hands sliding up under his shirt while you kiss on his neck. “needy,” chan breathes out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small whimper when you suck a hickey onto his neck. you push his shirt up to signal him to take it off, and he pulls back to oblige.

his bare form is one you haven’t truly gotten used to; each time you see him like this you feel thirsty. it doesn’t help that he’s constantly working out, too. “you’re hot,” your murmur, dragging your acrylics over his toned abdomen. chan chuckles and grabs ahold of your face, pulling you into a heated kiss.

sliding his hands down your body, he gropes you in all the places that make you pant against his mouth. his lips never leave your mouth while his hands frantically try to tear you out of your shirt. “channie,” you breathe, lightly shoving him off of you to take off your top and subsequently your bra.

he’s back on you once you’re bare on top, pushing you down onto the bed and kissing every bare inch of skin. “channie, i need you,” you sigh, back arching when he suckles on one of your nipples and plays with your other breast. you tangle a hand in your hair, nails digging nicely into his scalp.

a trail of saliva follows chan when he pulls back from your breast. “yeah? you need me?” he asks patronizingly, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings and tugging them. you press yourself flat into the bed and spread your legs for him once your legs of material. “such a little slut for me.” he says, truly endeared by you.

“always,” you say, buzzing in anticipation. chan licks his lips as he looks down at your panty clad mound. dragging a finger down the slit of your covered core, he smiles when the material sticks to you. “channie.” you whine, opening your thighs wider from him, urging him to touch you.

“slut,” he groans, pushing your panties to the side and dragging his finger through your slick folds before dipping it into your hole. he slowly pushes it in and out of you, adding a second finger. “so wet. and all for me? it’s all for me, right baby?” he coos, speeding up his ministrations, biting his lip when you clench around his fingers.

“yes, channie,” you pant, chest rising and falling quickly. “oh.” he curls his fingers inside of you, your thighs closing around his his hand. chan forces your legs open and slips in a third finger, trying to thoroughly stretch you out.

clenching around his fingers, the sounds coming from you mouth increase from quiet whimpers to louder moans. it urges chan on, his goal tonight to get you to come once on his fingers, a second time on his mouth, and third time on his dick. he can tell he’s about a 1/3 of the way there with the way you suck his fingers inside and cry out his name.

his dick throbs in his pants, but he’s more concerned with making you feel good first, ever the pleaser. “you gonna come for me, baby? are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?” his voice is soft though firm. there’s authority in his tone and ever his good girl, you whine out a ‘yes’. “you can do it baby. you’re my good girl, right? my good, little slut?” his thumb makes its way to your clit, rubbing slow circles against it.

your toes curl and your back arches off the bed at his words. your core pulses and chan rubs harsher circles against your nub, the stimulation causing your jaw to fall open. “ch-chan!” you cry, harsh pants leaving your mouth.

“that’s it, pretty,” he murmurs, a satisfied smile taking over his face as you unravel, your arousal gushing out onto his hand. “good job, baby. such a good girl for me.” chan pulls his hand out from in between your legs and sticks his fingers in his mouth, humming as he sucks your juices off.

you watch in mild astonishment, heat flooding your cheeks when he smiles at you. you pull your underwear off and toss them onto the floor below, your core fully on display for him. chan grabs your calves and drags you to the end of the bed and gets on his knees in front of you.

a whimper leaves your mouth when chan buries his head in between your legs, tongue flicking over your clit and licking up the rest of your arousal. he dips his tongue into your hole, dragging the muscle through your folds. “f-fuck!” you shriek, eyes squeezing closed.

chan keeps your legs open with just his shoulders, hooking his arms around your thighs to hold you down when you try to wriggle away from him. his tongue expertly licks your core, the sounds lewd and loud in your ears. “ch-channie, i c-can’t take i-it,” you cry out, thighs beginning to shake.

your next orgasm washes over you without much warning, loud cries of his name leaving your mouth. chan continues to eat you through your orgasm, vision going spotty from the overstimulation. “ch-chan, stop,” you pant, legs going limp against his shoulders.

arousal coats his face, his mouth and chin glistening in the light. you pant below him and he strokes your leg to bring you back to him. “baby? im right here,” chan says, voice soft. you keep your eyes closed but hold out a hand to him, which he grabs and kisses the back of. “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

the praise makes you smile and crack an eye open. the smile of your sweet, sweet boyfriend greets you and you can’t help but return it. “hi,” you say, voice scratchy.

“hey, beautiful.”

you tug him down to you and he braces himself with one arm, hand planted on the bed near your head. his strength turns you on, to say the least, and you pull him down to your lips by the back of his neck. you don’t care that he just are you out and you can taste it, all you want is him. you make out lazily and he lowers his hips to yours, his dick heavy against your inner thigh.

pulling back, you glance down to look at the tent in his sweats. “take those off,” you say, pushing at the waistband. chan stands and makes a show of taking off his sweats but leaving his boxers on. you scramble onto your knees and crawl over to him, hands flying to tear him out of the barrier.

“you really are a little slut,” he says, eyes darkening when you push his boxers down and grab ahold of his dick. “get down on your knees for me.” it’s a demand you have no problem complying with, quickly getting off the bed and onto the floor before him. he peers down at you and lovingly strokes your face before gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “suck.”

you take his dick into your hands, thumb rubbing over the tip and spreading the cum that leaks out, over the head. chan lets our air through his nose, heart pounding when you place a kiss to the tip. your eyes flick up to look at him and he twitches in your hand, his will power threatening to crumble.

the smile you give him is angelic. the way you take him into your mouth is nasty. the way you take him until you gag and tears prick in your eyes goes straight to his ego. “shit,” he pants, grip tightening on your hair.

he’s not even fully in your mouth, a little over half way, and you stroke what doesn’t fit. tears fill your waterline as you move him in and out of your mouth, cheeks hollowed as you breathe heavily out of your nose. chan groans above you, moaning out your name and calling you his good girl, his little slut.

he’s close and it’s evident in the way his knees buckle and how he catches himself against the mattress. you pull your mouth off of him with a pant, saliva dripping down your chin, mixing with a few tears that slip down your cheeks. you pant as your pump his shaft, playing with his balls to bring him to his release. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whimpers, hips jerking and eyes squeezing shut.

opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue and jerk his dick until he comes, cum shooting out onto your tongue. he aims to get most of it into your mouth, some getting on your chin and chest. chan squints down at you, whimpering when you close your mouth and swallow his seed. it’s not your first time and definitely won’t be your last, but he’ll never get tired of seeing you do it.

you wipe whatever up of his cum was left with your finger, and lick it off, not wanting to waste a drop. “need to feel you,” chan grumbles, dominant side melting as he pulls you off the floor and pushes you down onto the bed. he hovers over you and kisses you deep, holding his dick in his hand and lining it up with your entrance. “you’re so good to me.” his babbling isn’t new—he always gets like this at some point whenever the two of you have sex. you find it cute, especially when he tries to be rough with you.

a high pitched moan leave your mouth as he presses his head into you. “i’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as he continues to slowly feed you inches. he kisses you to drown out your soft cries, and massages one of your breasts. you hold onto his shoulders, sharp nails digging into his skin.

once he’s fully inside, he gives you a second to adjust. your breathing is labored and you clench around him tightly. “fuck, channie!” you squeak, blowing out a breath. he rubs your hip and peppers light kisses along your jaw and face. “you’re so big.” you whine it like it’s a problem, but it’s a top 10 thing about him—it might be number 9.

chans previous demeanor finds him nearly as quickly as it left. “but you can take it,” he says, pushing himself up onto his hands. “you’re going to take it.” he starts out with shallow, slow strokes to ease you into it. “fuck, you’re so tight!” he grunts, hips starting to rock into you at a quicker pace.

“oh, chan!” you cry, fingers tangling into the sheets. his hips snap against yours brutally, the air leaving your lungs each time he pushes into you. “fuck, baby! harder!” you moan out, head spinning.

“harder?” he pants, hair falling into his eyes. you cry out when he pulls all the way out and slams into you, hands holding onto your hips tightly enough to bruise. “fucking slut!”

that familiar, tight feeling in your stomach builds. chan can tell by the vice grip you have on him and the way your face is screwed up in pleasure. he pants heavily, eyes trained on your chest as your breasts bounce each time he fucks into you. “i-im close!”

chan grabs one of your thighs and hooks it onto your hip, his thrusts slowing down only to become more pointed and deliberate, an ‘oh’ eliciting form you with each pound. “gonna come for me a third time, pretty?” his voice wavers as he talks to you, the grip on your thigh tight. “shit, y/n! fuck.” sweat slides down his temple and drips down to his chin and drops off to the bed.

“i-i’m coming!” you cry as you spasm around him, your third orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. your moans are loud, crude, and downright pornographic. anybody on the second floor is guaranteed to hear you by now.

your sounds blow up chans ego even more than you already have tonight, and soon he’s pulling out of you to release onto your stomach, praises falling from his lips. “fuck, baby. you’re so good to me. my pretty little baby,” he babbles, collapsing on top of you. you wrap your arms around him and squeeze onto him, lightly stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” he sighs, kissing your jaw.

“channie, i can’t breathe,” you say, pushing at his shoulder. he quickly rolls off you and lies flat on his back, his hand making his way to rest on your thigh. “channie.” you say softly, rolling onto your stomach and resting your chin on his shoulder.

he gazes down at you and chuckles, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face. he knows that tone, knows that look and can see that you’re not done with the night. he sits up and grabs a pillow from the top of his bed and lifts you up by the hips, shoving a pillow beneath you.

“my good, little slut.”

#lee chan smut #chan smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #lee chan fluff #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #chan imagines #chan scenarios #lee chan imagines #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #chan x you

[kckt88]

Let It Be Me I.

Summary:

Aemond and Y.N have been best friends for years, and as they approach 30 years old, Y.N decides that she wants to be a mother, so Aemond volunteers his services.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Mentions of Past Cheating, Alternating POV, Masturbation, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Misunderstandings, Alys.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N (PAST AEMOND X ALYS)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 5383.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"Y.N, I understand your desire to become a mother, but using a stranger as a sperm donor-it just doesn't sit right with me," Aemond said, his voice laced with concern. "Why not consider asking a friend instead? Someone you know and trust?"

Y.N furrowed her brow, considering Aemond's suggestion. "You know, I did speak to Aegon yesterday" she admitted quietly. "He offered to help."

Aemond's heart sank at the mention of his older brother. While Aegon was undoubtedly kind-hearted, the thought of Y.N having a child with him filled Aemond with a sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't right.

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "Y.N, please-don't go to Aegon. Don't go to anyone else. I-I'll do it."

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze locking with Aemond's. "What do you mean?"

Aemond took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I mean-I'll be the father; we are best friends, and we know each other, and I’ll always be around so you’d have support”.

Y.N's breath caught in her throat, her heart thundering in her chest. She had never imagined Aemond would make such a bold offer. Yet, as she looked into his eye, she saw the sincerity and love reflected there.

Tears welled up in Y.N's eyes as she reached out to grasp Aemond's hand. "Aemond, are you sure? This is a huge decision."

Aemond nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I've never been surer of anything in my life”.

“I-I guess we could try it, at least this way the baby would have their father around” replied Y.N smiling.

“So, when do you want to do this?” asked Aemond.

“Next week-it’s supposed to be my most fertile week” replied Y.N.

“Ok-is there anything I need to do to make sure everything goes smoothly?”

“I think it would be a good idea for both of us to abstain from sex with other people, until I manage to get pregnant-“

“-Not exactly an issue for me, I haven’t been with anyone since Alys-” muttered Aemond.

“Me either, I’ve not been with anyone since Jace” uttered Y.N.

Aemond grimaced at the mention of his nephew’s name, if he didn’t hate Jace before he certainly did when he started dating Y.N.

It drove Aemond insane having to listen to that bastard fucking Y.N, he spent many nights wishing it was him instead of Jace.

Not even the woman he brought back and fucked into the mattress could sway his mind away from Y.N, they’d met at university and became friends after an unfortunate incident which led Y.N tripping over and accidently throwing coffee all over him.

He normally would have raged at the stupidity of it all, but the moment he finished wiping himself off and saw those blue eyes he was done for.

Her sweet soft voice apologising to him profusely, but he wasn’t listening he just couldn’t stop staring at the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

Looking back, he should have obeyed his first instinct and asked her out on a date, but he feared that she would reject him, as most women usually did due to the huge scar marring his face, so he settled for friendship instead and never thought to move beyond that boundary even though he wanted to, as the years went by and their friendship grew, he now feared that he would lose Y.N as a friend if he ever dared to reveal his feelings, so he kept them hidden.

He'd rather have Y.N as a friend than not have her at all.

They moved in together after university, she became part of his family, and it was like she’d always been there. His mother loved her, his father never really paid much attention to anyone or anything unless it was about his firstborn child, his darling Rhaenyra who could do no wrong, Aegon the man whore of course tried it on with her, but she quickly rebuffed him, which made Aemond love her even more, Helaena took to her immediately which was nice as it was hard for his sweet sister to make friends, and Daeron liked her too.

Everything was perfect, except it wasn’t because he wanted her, and he was too afraid to tell her.

Even getting involved with other women was an issue as he would always end up comparing them to Y.N and they would never last long, until Alys.

She was older than him, and Aemond liked that. At first things were great between them, he fell in love with her, and he felt for the first time that he could move on from Y.N but the mask slipped, and Alys began to show her true colours. Aemond would like to say he got out of that shit as soon as it started but he didn’t, he was a fool blinded by love and his cock and it wasn’t until his sister and Y.N joined forces to make him see sense, that he was finally able to escape the praying mantis that was Alys.

As always Y.N was there helping him through it, supporting him and providing words of comfort until she brought that twat of his nephew home. It turned out that whilst he was with Alys, Y.N had started something up with Jace.

Dalton, Jason and Cregan were bad enough but Jace, gods above it rankled Aemond to no end to have to see that bastard sauntering around his apartment.

More than once he found his hands drifting towards the knives, just one slip that’s all it would take. But then he’d most likely get done for murder and it wasn’t worth the hassle.

So, Aemond had to resign himself to misery every time Y.N was with Jace, but as always it didn’t last long and it pleased Aemond no end when Jace was given the boot.

Like him, Y.N could never find anyone to settle down with and she eventually gave up.

But there was a sadness in Y.N, and Aemond knew she wanted so desperately to be married and have a family as she didn’t have anything to do with her own and as much as Aemond would fold to the ground quicker than a deck of cards if he ever thought he could get away with asking her to marry him, agreeing to father her child was the next best thing.

And that’s how Aemond found himself a week after he’d made his offer, masturbating in the bathroom.

He was no stranger to self-pleasure, he’d fucked his fist many times to the thought of Y.N, but doing it like this felt weird, he would never admit it, but it did take longer than usual to rouse himself, perhaps it was because it wasn’t something that occurred naturally, Normally he’d wake up with his cock hard and throbbing other times it would happen if he saw Y.N in her short p.js or those damn lycra leggings she was fond of wearing whenever she worked out.

One time her nearly blew his load when he saw her emerge from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, the water droplets still clinging to her-

“SHIT” moaned Aemond, as the need for release quickly shot across his abdomen.

Where was it? that damn pot thingy she gave him. He had to put his seed in there, and then he would hand it to her, and she would disappear off to her bedroom and put his seed inside herself-

“FUUUCCCCKK” roared Aemond only just managing to position the pot to catch his seed in time.

It seemed to go on forever, the jolt of pleasure running through him as he cock pulsed and released endless ropes of seed.

After he washed his hands and cleaned himself up, Aemond took hold of the pot and left the bathroom, Y.N was sitting on the sofa with her earphones in.

“Thank the fuck christ for that” muttered Aemond, his cheeks tinged pink at the thought of Y.N listening to him masturbate, although the thought did make his cock stir in his sweatpants.

“Aemond-is everything ok?” asked Y.N as she pulled out her earphones.

“It’s fine-I guess I should give you this” replied Aemond as he handed her the pot.

“Yes-thank you. I-I’ll be back in a moment,” said Y.N as she quickly disappeared into her bedroom.

Not knowing exactly what to do with himself, Aemond sat on the sofa and thumbed through one of the magazines on the coffee table.

“Tips for women: how to bag your secret crush-what a crock of shit” Aemond as he threw the magazine in the bin.

A few minutes later Y.N emerged from her bedroom, carrying the empty pot in her hand, the knowledge that his seed was now inside her made his cock respond in earnest.

Fuck-he needed to get to his bedroom and fast.

“Is everything ok?” asked Y.N a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“F-fine, I just need to go to my room. I forgot my phone. Waiting for a work call” exclaimed Aemond as he darted out the room.

The irritated voice of Y.N carrying through the flat when she saw the magazine in the bin.

“Hey-I was reading that”.

As the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, Y.N and Aemond embarked on the process of conceiving a child with optimism and excitement.

However, as time passed without any signs of success, their initial enthusiasm gave way to frustration and disappointment. Month after month, they meticulously tracked Y.N's cycle, timed their efforts with precision, and yet, each negative pregnancy test felt like a crushing blow.

One evening, as they sat together in the dim glow of their apartment, the weight of their unspoken fears hung heavy in the air. Y.N's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she voiced the thoughts that had been haunting her for weeks.

"Aemond, what if there's something wrong with me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

Aemond's heart clenched at the pain in Y.N's voice, his own fears mirroring hers. "Y.N, don't say that" he replied, his voice laced with emotion. "There's nothing wrong with you. We just-haven't been lucky yet, that's all."

But Y.N couldn't shake the nagging doubt that gnawed at her heart. She couldn't help but wonder if her body was somehow failing her if she was somehow unworthy of the gift of motherhood.

"I know we've only been trying for a few months, but-what if it never happens?" Y.N's voice trembled with the weight of her insecurities.

Aemond reached out, gently cupping Y.N's face in his hands, his eyes filled with reassurance. "Y.N, listen to me. We're in this together, okay? Whatever happens, we'll face it together. And if we need to seek help, then we'll do it. But we're not giving up, not now, not ever."

"Guys, I don't know what to do," Aemond admitted, his voice tinged with concern. "Y.N and I have been trying for months, and-nothing. Not even a hint of a positive test."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, maybe you're going about it the wrong way," he teased, earning a sceptical glance from Daeron. "Perhaps you should try it the natural way."

Aemond's cheeks flushed crimson at Aegon's suggestion, his embarrassment evident. "Aegon, come on. This is serious," he protested, though a small part of him couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's audacity.

Daeron rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. "Aegon, sometimes I wonder if you have any sense of decorum," he remarked dryly, though a smirk played at the corners of his lips.

“Or maybe little brother’s just insecure that he’s shooting blanks, what are you nearly thirty and not one accident-with anyone” laughed Aegon as he took a swig of beer.

“Just because you’ve got fuck knows how many kids to god knows how many different women, doesn’t mean were all like that, I’ve never fucked a women raw, I always used protection” replied Aemond.

“Your not still pissed I offered her my load are you-I was only joking, well kind of-“

“-Aegon seriously. I hate it when you talk like that. Grow up” snapped Daeron.

“Ooo hark at Mr prim and proper over here, anyone would think you had a thing for Y.N”.

“No-as lovely as Y.N is she’s not my type,” said Daeron.

“What is your type?” asked Aegon.

“Men-“ said Aemond firmly.

“-I thought you liked women?” quipped Aegon.

“I’m pansexual-I’m attracted to whoever regardless of their gender or how they identify”.

“Isn’t that what Helaena is?” mused Aegon.

“No, she’s asexual, which means no sexual attraction to others” said Aemond.

“So, hang on, if your attracted to anyone, then why isn’t Y.N your type?” asked Aegon.

“Because she’s my friend and I don’t think of her in that way-“ retorted Daeron.

“Unlike captain slow over here, dude is down so bad he literally offers to father his best friends child” snarked Aegon.

“You should really tell her Aemond-“

“-What? And ruin the friendship, I can’t do that. I can’t lose what we have” replied Aemond downing his glass of whisky and grimacing at the afterburn.

“Have you not considered that she might feel the way?” asked Daeron.

“What? No” muttered Aemond.

“Look listen to your big brother-go home and suggest that you try making the baby the natural way, all this methodically planned shit is clearly causing stress, which isn’t good for either of you-so maybe fucking each other and having an orgasm or two may help”.

“What if she says no” mused Aemond.

“If she does then we’ve always got a spare room for you-“

“-Not fucking funny” snapped Aemond.

“Just make the suggestion-let her make the choice,” said Daeron.

“Ok-but if she says no then expect another roommate” muttered Aemond.

Aemond took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have with Y.N. As they sat together in the quiet comfort of their apartment, the weight of their unspoken desires hung heavy in the air.

"Y.N, I've been thinking," Aemond began, his voice tentative yet resolute. "Maybe-maybe we've been going about this the wrong way. Maybe instead of focusing so much on timing and tracking, we should-try things more naturally."

Y.N's brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes searching Aemond's face for clarity. "What do you mean, Aemond?"

Aemond hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the swirling emotions that churned within him. "I mean-maybe we could try having sex with each other”

Y.N's breath caught in her throat at Aemond's words, her heart pounding with a mixture of longing and apprehension. She had spent countless nights secretly yearning for Aemond, yet the fear of ruining their friendship had kept her from confessing her true feelings.

"Aemond, I-I don't want to risk our friendship," Y.N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if-what if this changes everything between us?"

Aemond reached out, gently taking Y.N's hand in his own, his gaze soft yet determined. "Y.N, our friendship means everything to me and if you decide that we should just continue trying as we have been then I will respect your decision”.

Y.N sat quiet for a moment as she thought about what Aemond had suggested, clearly what they were already doing wasn’t working but maybe this could.

Gods she had been in love with Aemond ever since she’d tripped and thrown her coffee all over him. Features so sharp it looked like he’d been carved by the gods themselves, his singular eye was a shade of blue that she had never seen before, he was so beautiful. Initially his face had been twisted in anger and annoyance but then it softened and relaxed.

Admittedly she was left feeling disappointed that he’d not asked her out, and her shyness prevented her from asking him, so she settled for the friendship that blossomed between them.

Having no family of her own, she became part of his and it was truly wonderful. His mother Alicent, wow her curly auburn hair was incredible was quite nice, his father was disinterested and looked like he could play an extra from night of the living dead, his older brother Aegon had more kids than she had hot dinners was a bit of a cheeky chancer but nothing she couldn’t handle, his sister Helaena was sweet and whimsical in a way that warmed her heart and Daeron he was sensible and funny.

But she was a coward, too scared to tell Aemond how she felt, the possibility of ruining their friendship was heartbreaking but it was also the potential loss of his family that added to her reluctance.

Being alone for along time, you think you’re ok with it, just going through the motions but once you experience that closeness you truly realise how alone you are, and it saddened her deeply.

Aemond didn’t seem interested in her in that way, judging from all the women he fucked, at first, she tried to ignore it but then she thought why not take a leaf out of his book and get involved with someone.

Admittedly though giving her virginity to Dalton Greyjoy was a mistake, he barely lasted and to get through it she had to fantasise about Aemond, then there was Jason Lannister, he was a bit better but still a selfish prick.

Cregan Stark was a very giving lover, he never left her wanting, the only problem was that he wasn’t Aemond, and inevitably the relationship didn’t last long.

Then Aemond met her. Alys fucking Rivers. You’d think older would mean more mature, but no she was about as mature as the cheese you would find in the fridge, the blue veiny kind that smelled like feet.

It broke her heart to see Aemond so happy, but there wasn’t much she could do, and she would often escape their apartment whenever Alys was around and cry on Helaena’s shoulder.

Aemond’s sweet sister knew of her feelings for Aemond and often provided a welcome distraction from the disgusting display Alys would often make as she draped herself all over Aemond every chance she got, and their friendship wasn’t as close when she was around.

But then things started to go wrong, and Alys revealed her true self. The lies, the emotional and verbal abuse, even the cheating. But Aemond kept going back to her, time and time again, until one day she and Helaena took it upon themselves to sort that bitch out.

Helaena was the one who talked sense into Aemond and Y.N took great pleasure in giving her a good slap before throwing her out of the apartment.

Things seemed back to normal after that, until Y.N had to tell Aemond that she was involved with his nephew Jace.

If Aemond could have gritted his teeth any harder then he would have broken his jaw, the thing with Jace had initially started when Aemond was dating Alys, and Y.N understood that there maybe issues given that it was Jace’s younger brother Luke who cost Aemond his eye when they were children, but she was lonely and just needed a distraction from her feelings.

Although his posture and hair cut were atrocious, Jace was nice enough, but once again she kept comparing him to Aemond and then began to feel weird about Jace being his nephew and eventually it came to an end.

After one dating disaster after another, Y.N resigned herself to being single forever. Which saddened her deeply, she wanted to get married she wanted children. So, one day she decided why not be a mother, she had a steady job and enough savings, that maybe she could do it on her own. People used sperm banks all the time, so why couldn’t she.

Helaena was supportive and suggested asking someone she knew first, admittedly asking Aegon was a mistake, but it was a request made out of the fact that not only did she know Aegon but due to all his children, she knew his soldiers were marching, it was just the idea of tying herself to him as so many others had done which changed her mind.

So, sperm bank it was, at least they did the necessary checks, but in the end, she had no need for it as Aemond offered to father her child.

As surprising as it was, she was not opposed to the idea. Aemond was after all her best friend and she trusted him beyond all measure, so she accepted his offer.

Explaining the mechanics of the offer to Aemond had been mortifying, especially when she presented him with the pot, he would put his seed in.

Listening to him masturbate in the bathroom though had been a treat, his groans of frustration filtered through the apartment and if Y.N was brave she would have offered to help him, but she was a coward, so she put her earphones in, not like that helped much as the noise he made when he came, made her stomach flutter and her core clench.

When he handed her the pot, his cheeks were tinged pink and fuck he was still hard, she could see the outline of his cock through his sweatpants.

She excused herself, went to her room and did what she needed to do, when she emerged Aemond was hovering in the living room, his eye blown wide and his cheeks red.

Fuck his cock was straining hard against the fabric of his sweatpants, Y.N couldn’t help but move closer to him, but when she asked if he was ok, he seem startled and raced off to his room, going on about his mobile.

“Ok-now where is my-“ muttered Y.N as she looked for her magazine, only to see it in the bin. That fucker had thrown it away.

Over the next few weeks, they continued with their arrangement, but it wasn’t working. No pregnancy ever materialized, and she began to feel like there was something wrong with her, but Aemond supported her and promised that they weren’t going to give up.

She never imagined not giving up would result in him suggesting they try to conceive a child by having sex, but here they were in the living room with the weight of his suggestion hanging in the air.

Of course, it did make sense, but she was worried about it changing their friendship, and not only that she didn’t want to lose his family that taken her in as one of their own.

He said she could turn him down, that it was her choice to make, and it made her heart flutter. She could say no, she probably should say no but the only words that left her mouth was acceptance.

“Ok-let’s have sex” said Y.N.

Aemond had thought all his Christmases had come at once when Y.N took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Aemond as he closed the door.

“I’m sure-now fuck a baby into me” replied Y.N as she pressed forward and claimed his lips with her own.

The kiss was filthy, it was depraved, and it was fucking amazing. Aemond couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his tips as Y.N’s tongue slid against his.

This was everything he’d ever wanted, and fuck she tasted divine.

Aemond slowly moved his hands down Y.N’s body before roughly grasping her ass and hauling her up against the door.

Y.N whimpered, gripping at Aemond’s shoulders as he slotted himself between her legs, his tongue still invading her mouth.

Aemond pressed himself against the apex of Y.N’s thighs, and he growls like an animal when she reaches down and palms his hard cock over his sweatpants.

“Fuck-“ groans Aemond as he began to grind his clothed cock against her.

“Someone’s eager” whispered Y.N as she flicked her tongue against the corner of Aemond’s mouth.

“Oh, sweet girl you have no idea” quipped Aemond as she spun her off the door and carried her to her bed.

Soon their clothes are abandoned in a haphazard heap on the floor and Aemond was laid between Y.N open legs moving his fingers through her dripping folds as he expertly devoured her with his mouth, his nose bumping against her pearl as fucked her with his tongue.

Gods, she tasted delicious here too. Obviously, this wasn’t required to make a baby but he couldn’t help himself, he needed her wet and wanting.

Aemond loved performing oral sex on women, something his past partners never complained about, but nothing compared to Y.N she was delicious in a way he’d never tasted before.

“Fuck,” squeaks Y.N as she grasps at the back of Aemond’s head, her fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place.

“You’re quite sensitive. Are you going to come already?” asked Aemond smugly.

Aemond alternates between using his fingers and tongue to bring Y.N to her peak.

Y.N arches her back as she comes, Aemond gently sucks on her pearl as she rides out the euphoria of her peak.

“Is that you done baby, or do you want more?” asked Aemond playfully, his chin shining with her slick.

“M-More, please” gasps Y.N as Aemond reaches forward and presses a singular kiss to her pearl before he quickly wipes his chin with his hand.

Aemond smirks as he removes his boxers, his hard cock slapping up against his abdomen,

Y.N looks at Aemond and her eyes widen, he was bigger than anyone she’d been with previously significantly so, his cock hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

“Don’t worry little bird-it will fit” whispered Aemond as he presses his lips against Y.N’s in a heated kiss.

Aemond takes himself in his hand and guides his hard cock to Y.N entrance, pushing in slowly and pausing to give her a moment to adapt to his size.

After pressing a gentle kiss to Y.N’s lips, Aemond pulls out slowly and slides back in, his pace gentle and steady.

“Harder-faster, please daddy I can take it” exclaimed Y.N.

Aemond lets out a pleased grunt and slams into Y.N hard, smiling as she lets out a yelp of surprise.

The pace he sets is brutal, his hips slapping against hers, all the pent up frustration of wanting her pouring out of him.

Y.N moans desperately, as she moves her hips to meet his, attempting to allow his cock to reach deeper within her.

Aemond gets the hint, and quickly lifts Y.N’s legs over his shoulders, using the new angle to drive his cock even deeper than before.

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes you feel so good”

Y.N praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her, the headboard banging against the wall from the force of his movements.

“Aemond, please, I’m close” whimpers Y.N.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs Y.N’s pearl in quick circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“I never want to leave this sweet pussy–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Y.N come with a loud, scream, her body shaking underneath Aemond’s as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“J-Just a little longer-fuck” groans Aemond as he slams into Y.N three more times before reaching his own peak, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moves Y.N’s legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“I-I wasn’t too rough, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. I-It was wonderful” exclaimed Y.N, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, his singular eye fixated on the drops of seed that spill out.

He takes a finger to Y.N’s opening and pushes his seed back inside, delighting in her moan of surprise.

“Can’t be wasting it now can we” whispered Aemond as he laid down on the bed and pulled Y.N to him.

“I guess not” replied Y.N her eyes closed as she smiled slightly.

“Not tired, are you?” asked Aemond curiously as Y.N laid her head on his chest and began running her fingers through the sparse hair that graced his chest.

Y.N looked at him and smiled as she shook her head.

“Good, because I plan to fill you with my seed many times this night-”.

Over the next few weeks, Aemond and Y.N spent many nights entwined in bed, sometimes they didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

Aemond had practically taken her on every available surface in their apartment, he was unrestrained and ravenous.

Never had Y.N experienced such pleasure, that it often left her unable to walk straight, something that Aegon liked to tease her about quite frequently.

But a swift dig to the ribs would often sort him out and wipe that cheeky grin off his face.

Whilst all the sex with Aemond was enjoyable there was a purpose behind it and Y.N was on pins the day her period was due, but it never came, nor did it arrive the next day or the day after that.

Not wanting to get her hopes up too much, Y.N made an appointment with the Drs and anxiously waited for the news.

Later that day Y.N's heart raced with anticipation as she stepped through the door of their apartment.

"Aemond!" she called out, her voice trembling with excitement as she searched for him. "Aemond, where are you?"

Aemond emerged from the living room, a curious expression on his face as he caught sight of Y.N's radiant smile. "Y.N, what's going on?”

Y.N's smile widened as she held out a piece of paper, her hands trembling with excitement. "Aemond, I went to the doctor today- and guess what? We're going to have a baby!"

Aemond's eye widened in disbelief as he took in Y.N's words, the reality of her announcement sinking in. "Y.N, are you serious?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe and wonder.

Y.N nodded eagerly, tears of joy shimmering in her eyes. "Yes, Aemond, I'm serious! The doctor confirmed it-we're going to be parents!"

Aemond's heart swelled with overwhelming emotion as he pulled Y.N into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. "Y.N, this is incredible," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't believe it-we're going to have a baby."

But then out of the corner of her eye, Y.N noticed a figure sitting on their couch.

"Alys-what are you doing here?" Y.N managed to choke out, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

Alys looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and discomfort. "I... I came to see Aemond," she replied, her voice faltering slightly. "I didn't realize you would be here."

“I live here” retorted Y.N her voice dripping with venom.

"Did I hear you say that you were pregnant?” asked Alys.

“Yes, you did, Aemond is the father-“ said Y.N through gritted teeth.

“I-I didn't know you and Aemond were-together," Alys finally stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y.N felt a lump form in her throat as Aemond's response echoed in her ears. "We're not together," he said simply, his words like a dagger to her heart.

The realization hit Y.N like a tidal wave, washing over her with a force she could scarcely comprehend. In that moment, the truth of their relationship – or lack thereof – crashed down upon her, leaving her feeling lost and alone.

Tears welled up in Y.N's eyes as she struggled to make sense of it all. The joy of her pregnancy announcement now tainted by the crushing weight of rejection.

Aemond's heart clenched with anguish as he watched the devastation wash over Y.N's face. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the hurt he had unwittingly caused.

"Y.N, I'm so sorry," Aemond began, his voice laced with regret as he reached out to her. But before he could utter another word, Y.N pulled away, her eyes brimming with tears as she fled to her bedroom, the sound of her sobs echoing in the empty space.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aegon ii targaryen #daeron targaryen #helaena targaryen #hotd smut

[azullumi]

“lyra” ; dazai osamu

summary — the many times you felt loved by him and the one where a confession happened.

pairing — dazai osamu (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (kind of), utilization of the friends to lovers trope, slightly proofread, 2.1k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs

note — i literally haven’t written for him for years now and i swear i lost my mind and pulled my hair,, i could have done this better !?

Dazai is unpredictable.

In more ways than one, he is erratic, able to conceal his intentions beneath that long trench coat of his, tucked in the loose parts of his bandages, hidden somewhere only he can see. He is the definition of an enigma, he is more than a puzzle, not just a paradox that continues to exist despite death being the only companion and comforting thing to him—a man of mystery that is better left unknown.

“My, you always look as ethereal and beautiful as a lotus blossom.” The dark-haired man says as he holds your hand in his, his finger delicately tracing the lines of your palm, and his eyes looked softer than usual, his gaze holding something that lies between the line of affection and seduction. Sparkles and flowers seem to bloom behind him, the background of the cafe fading and turning into a plain pink one with hearts that float around his figure.

(Flirty.)

He’s fluent in the language of amorous words laced with playfulness accompanied with gentle touches and slow caresses on your skin. He doesn’t hesitate in getting close, invading your space and going over the line, and maybe he’ll show that he is into you but only a fool would think of his words as genuine affection meant for you and only you.

“My eternal light to the darkness, would you be willing to—” However, he’s unable to finish his sentence as you take your hand back from him, offering him a smile instead as you subtly set a distance between the both of you—as if you were telling him to never cross the line, to stay at an arms’ distance.

“Good morning, Dazai. What brings you here to the cafe?”

Fortunately, you weren’t a fool.

“Ah, rejection again, I see.” The pink background that blooms behind me seemingly shifts into a dark one as the man’s expression contorts into a mix of sadness and disappointment, all displayed in an overly dramatic way; his form is slumped, faux tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, and his lips are in a pout. The sound of a short (mirth) laughter is heard from you—you’ve gotten used to this sight of him, of his dramatic expressions, and flirty approaches just to ask you something ridiculous.

“I’m here for you.” He says.

(And persistent.)

You have witnessed evidence of his persistence expressed in his words and actions every time he’s free from any of his work and he comes to the cafe you work at (his definition of free is escaping from his responsibilities and choosing to slack off). He’ll always take the opportunity to hold your hand, whisper such affectionate words only one would say to their lover, and he’ll kiss your skin so gently as if it was made from glass.

That was what happened in the first meeting between you and him—first day on your work in this cafe and just as you were serving the order of this loud group that the owner is acquainted with, you caught the eye of the man covered in bandages and dressed in a somewhat messy yet orderly way. Then you know how it went and from then on, Dazai doesn’t let the chance to bother you slip from his grasp.

But you don’t fall for it, never would you. You’re not supposed to and you’re not going to. He has said such similar things to other people who he deems beautiful or attractive, he has touched others and tainted them with his caresses the same way he did with yours, his lips have felt the softness of others’ skin, not only yours. You’d be stupid enough to think that there’s something more lingering in the depths of his voice, something different that tugs at his tone and threatens it to break.

The two of you are just friends, maybe even less than that.

“Where’s Kunikida?” You ask him, eyes roaming around to look for a single strand of golden but there was nothing. You failed to notice the falter in the expression of the man before you, tension seeping into his features for a moment before it eases at the mention of another man’s name. You continue, “Are you slac—” only to be interrupted by the sound of the door chime ringing followed by a set of heavy footfalls.

A loud shout of Dazai’s name is heard, echoing off the brick-patterned walls of the place, as Kunikida enters. There was a furious look on his face, nose fuming as he spotted the one he was looking for and as soon as he did, Kunikida smacked the back of Dazai’s head. There goes it, you know how this would unfold, how everything would happen—you’re used to it, having already seen this scene enough times to tell how it would end: Kunikida will scold Dazai, calls him with a new nickname (it’s President of Wasted Bandages this time), drags him outside but before that, he’ll apologize on behalf of his co-worker’s behavior, and you’ll wave at them as they leave.

“Why do you always come to ruin good moments, Kunikida? Do you not wish to see me happy?”

“Happy?! Maybe if you stop slacking off, you'll be happy.”

You could hear their distant argument and you heave out a sigh when they disappear from your sight, the smile fading from your lips as the loneliness looms over your figure. Silence rests heavily on your shoulders and you ignore the ache in your chest.

The cafe is located on the first floor where the detective agency is and you work alongside a waitress and a kind owner. Members of the agency are often seen frequenting the place, thus you’ve become familiar with their faces, memorized their names, and even learned some things about themselves. Honestly, it’s all simple for you; you have a nice and peaceful job (ignoring the chaos around you and the occasional disturbance from Dazai), and you’re being paid well. What else could you ever wish for? It was all serene for you.

Not this time though.

It seems like luck has run out for you seeing that you’re bound on the ground right at this moment, becoming a hostage to a small criminal group. Everything that happened prior feels like a blur, you remember men suddenly entering the cafe with guns and threatening everyone, you remember them hurting the owner, and you remember being taken away. They want to use you as bait, a guarantee for the detective agency so that they will bite and get lured into the criminals’ trap, or whatever they were telling you earlier. You weren’t listening—maybe you were but their words just passed from one ear to another—, hands curled into a fist as it trembled, the cold floor felt like spikes stabbing into your skin, and as the rope dug into your skin.

Afraid? Perhaps you were. It’s not everyday you get a gun pointed at you and a man threatening your life. Is this how you’re going to die?

You try to distract and ease yourself by thinking of other things, your mind drifting to somewhere else instead of staying at where you are—the cat that you occasionally see across the street, the passing cars you’ll see outside the window, the music playing from the vinyl in the cafe, the ringing of the chime as the door opens, and the dark-haired man and eyes that reflect the earth. Dazai with his never-ending tab, with his continuous ridiculous offers, his dramatic expressions, his stupid whims, the way he would always annoy you as if it was a daily requirement, his messy bangs that frames his face, his words that poke and probe at your being, and his—

You are snapped out of your thoughts, a familiar voice calling your name, coming into the stream of your senses, and pulling you out of the daze that you are in.

“Dazai?” Something is drowning in the pools of his eyes, lurking in the depths, and the way he looks at you is different. The usual calm in his expression is disturbed by a mixture of emotions—like rain droplets on a surface of still water—, anger, worry, care merging into the gentle lines of his features. Your hands that were once bound were free, though your wrists are left with marks from the rope bindings and you could still feel the way it burns on your skin.

“What happened? Why are you here? Are you hurt? Did you come alone? How did you find me?” Many questions came pouring out of your mouth but your voice trembles as you speak, tone unstable as the words fall and shatter on the ground. Dazai only lets you, your form crumbling and he holds your pieces in his hand, and he assures you: “Everything is alright.”

He continues, taking off his coat to wrap it around your form, “Were you scared?” And you meekly nod, knowing that your voice will only betray you. Dazai doesn’t say anything and only pulls you close to him, embracing you in his arms (“I’m sorry I took so long.”). There was the scent of his perfume accompanied with a trace of gunpowder when you buried your face on his chest—you feel a sense of relief, comfort and warmth that makes its way through your thoughts and the feeling of suffocation slowly leaves you.

He draws small circles on your back as he tries to soothe you, “You’re safe now.” He whispers as he kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few seconds as he inhales the smell of your hair. (You’ve never had him this close before, this soft, this warm. It feels like the man you have known him as before were all fabrications from your illusive mind and the one before you is a different person.)

He brings your hand towards his lips and he presses a kiss on your pulse, right where the marks of your wrists are, ever so gently, ever so sweetly, “Nobody will hurt you ever again.”

You descend down the flight of stairs leading to a basement—a bar tucked away and hidden in plain sight. You’ve only known of it all thanks to a certain blabbermouth, he said it’s his favorite place to go. When you arrive, the interior shifts to a dimly-lit one with warm lights illuminating the whole place in contrast to the dark and foggy street outside. There’s the sound of jazz softly playing in the background, setting the tranquil ambience the whole bar carries.

And there he is, the man of the hour, basking underneath the golden glow. Sitting on the stool by the end of the counter, he has a glass of whiskey settled in front of him.

“I didn’t expect for you to actually come.” Dazai speaks, his voice molding into the gentleness of the song playing.

“I was curious. Though I didn’t know you'd be here at the same time.”

“Come sit.” He pats the spot beside him and you follow. You order something to drink as you sit and a glass is served in front of you after a few minutes. Silence crept up to the both of you as you didn’t say anything—and you wish you could read his mind at this moment, to know the thoughts that plagues his mind—and the stillness was an unbearable kind;

You begin, “Do you always come here?”

Dazai takes a sip from his glass before he answers, “Just often.”

“I see.” And before the silence could last even longer, you spoke once more: “You haven’t been coming to the cafe lately.”

“Why? Did you miss me? Are you finally going to take up my—“

“No.” He muttered a small “aw” at your firm rejection. “You still have an unpaid tab.” And he groans at that while you chuckle, finding amusement in the way his expression crumpled.

The sound of your laughter dies down after a few moments, trailing off to a gentle mutter of an: “Thank you.”

“For?” He asks, even if he already knows what you’re talking about.

“For back then.” For giving you his coat as he noticed you shivering, for assuring you that everything is okay and you’re not going to be harmed anymore, for blocking your sight of the men’s bodies that laid like lifeless corpses on the ground, for protecting you.

It has been weeks since it occurred but you could still feel the warmth of his body against yours and maybe his scent will linger no matter how much you try to wash it, and maybe you’ll have to forever carry the thought, the wishful thinking that maybe there’s something more. And maybe it’s the alcohol making him light-headed but three words are whispered to the air that settles in the space between you and him.

“I like you.”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#— STARCROSSED 2024 !! #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd #bsd x you #bsd x gender neutral reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x you #bsd dazai x reader #bsd dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou sd #dazai fluff #dazai imagines #azul.writes

[heroinnne]

you walk with your head down at work the next morning.

after having kissed your boss, the infamous miguel o'hara, you’re not sure you could really walk with your head up.

of course, word had gotten around the office that you left the party with miguel, and well, your coworkers teased and taunted you about it, you tried to ignore their comments, really, but the blush on your cheeks was prominent enough, and well, every time they said something you remembered the kiss, and how great it was.

so, you walked with your head down throughout the office.

that is, until you stumbled into someone.

slamming into their body, you drop the stack of papers you were holding, quickly, ‘i’m sorry’s spill from your lips until you hear a familiar voice say, “it’s fine.”

looking up, lo and behold, it’s none other than miguel.

of course, the universe loves playing its sick and twisted game on you.

“miguel — i mean, sir.” you gulp. a blush quickly spreads to your cheeks, “sorry.” you clear your throat and quickly gather your papers, stand up and ready to leave.

“y/n.” he says, “why don’t you join me at my office.”

you don’t know what else to do but oblige.

you follow him to where his office is, and once you’re there, he shuts the door behind you, then heads to his wine rack, holds up a bottle and a glass, “drink?” he asks and you shake your head.

he shrugs and pours himself a glass.

a beat of awkward silence passes and your heart thumping in your chest.

finally, you can’t take it anymore, “uhm, listen, i’m so sorry for kissing you last night, i was drunk and stupid and — ” he cuts you off with a chuckle, a deep rich sound it is and you feel your face warming up.

“y/n,” he chides, “there is no need to apologize.”

he steps closer to you, so close you can smell his strong cologne and your heart is doing cartwheels, because, and you may not like to admit it, but you may have developed a big, fat crush on your ceo.

“i’m sorry — ” he shushes you, and he cups your chin in his hand, tilting your head up, “what did i just say?”

your eyes widen and god dammit your heart is racing, and your face is so hot, “right, i’m — right.”

he smirks down at you, “you didn’t even give me a chance to continue,” he says, “sweetheart, i loved that kiss.”

your breath hitches “really?” you utter out in a surprised whisper.

“yeah.” he hums, a smile on his lips, “c’mere.” he says, “may i?” and all you could do is nod.

he places a hand on your waist and pulls you closer, and his lips press against yours, and you’re sober enough this time to take in every detail of this moment, how plump his lips are, how he tastes like coffee, how his hands are slithering up our back and how your hands are finding their way to his hair, tugging and pulling at it to deepen the kiss,

and just how perfect this moment is.

i ii

#marvel #marvel headcanons #atsv drabble #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #marvel x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara drabble #miguel spiderverse #miguel 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel ohara headcanons #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel spiderman

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #7

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: A moment of weakness, or perhaps of caring? Warnings: SMUT kids scram!.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis

Sorry for the updating problems, now it's finished :3

"Then...make me your reason" your laughter was unexpected, but then again, he wasn’t expecting for you to say yes right away.

"Why? And don't sell me the cow that in less than three months you fell for me, 'cause it's not possible, besides you're married" the brightness that surrounded him, upset your stomach, it was a reminder.

Her. His story, the fall, his and her promises of never stopping loving each other. What could happen between them to break such a love story? What if she never came back?

Could you live long enough to make him happy? Will you suffice?

"Well, I grew fond of our talks, it will be really sad if I lost my cuddle buddy" He wasn't sure what he was saying, just the fact that not seeing you was not an option, "And, I've noticed you take good care of Charlie" it hurt him, a lot, but seeing his own daughter being taken care of in any way possible, but not by him, was like a direct stab to his heart.

Your weirded out face made him explain:

"You make sure she eats, in the mornings it's you who gives her vitamins, you remind her of her appointments, bandage her when she gets hurt, I've even heard her rant to you and take your advice at heart. You've taken care of my daughter as if she was yours" Lucifer’s heart ached with every word.

A lightning bolt hit your entire body, figuratively. Eight years of taking care of her, it was as natural as breathing. Did you perhaps reflect the stolen need for motherhood in her? If so, her real mother is going to annihilate you.

"What if that was your reason?" he had his hope on the line, "I'm not her mother, the real deal will kill me if she hears me, but though she's being unbelievably irresponsible, I cannot take this from her” you took notice on his hands again, he had them on each side of your head it was hard not to notice.

Subtle scratches, horizontal, messy and weirdly even, the depression medication. Oh you prayed she never get back, he would never forgive you if her head was on the other end of your axe, but you won’t have him getting hurt by her again, and if it could be at the expense of your life, even better.  

"I think, deep down, she knows that. I'm not excluded in that" he lowered himself again, at least you wouldn’t look him in the eyes when you spoke, it hurt seeing his ‘at the verge of tears’ look.

"You know, I think if you tell your daughter of your depression, she will stop resenting your absence" he pulled himself up again, his red cheeks went so down you thought they would reach the underside of his chin "She does what?" anguish, pure at that.

"What did you think she rants about? Partially you, mainly why her hotel isn't working” he sighed, listening to you made him understand why Charlie stook around you, which was the other way around mostly, but still. He took your hand from his shoulder, kissed your knuckles with his eyes closed, then muttered a very heartfelt "Thank you for taking care of her” before leaning against your palm.  

"With time it became my pleasure, at first I wanted to kill her" you chuckled, he came down on your neck, inhaling the remanent smell on his shampoo. What an intimate thing, Lilith wouldn’t be caught dead wearing some other thing than her rose smelling antique perfume and products.

“Good thing you didn't” he muttered, “And face you? I ain't stupid" you only realized what you said when he started laughing at you, a soundly one with one or two occasional snorts, "Shut up" you rolled on your side with him still on you, which was pretty easy.

"Make us your reason, stay" if you were sober you would’ve coward in your old morals for the intimate position, crotch to crotch, but it was so close and warm.

“I'm just leaving that option on the table, if you still want to die, we'll miss you dearly, heck, I think even that son of bitch of Alastor will” you shook your head softly, attempting not to laugh, the alcohol doing all the funny work in your brain.

“You enjoy being in between my tits, huh?” his snake smile was too much when you dropped that, “I've been here through all this conversation, didn't heard you complaining” his hand went up and down your back.

“You have her in your mind when we do this” your happiness went away, your limbs went limp, so did your mind for a moment.

"Thing is, I can't make you or Charlie my reason, I will not be a replacement, I'm sure you understand"

“No, not so much” his smile dropped, gosh you wished you could sew it up, “I wasn't asking, I just want to know if you're aware of who I’m not”.

“I am” he assured.

“Do I disappoint you, when you open your eyes and realize she's still not here?” he was, his hesitation told you everything.

"And what if Alastor asked you that? Will you?".

"No, he’s two different people, one with me and another in public, and he despises physical touch and PDA on a daily basis, and I need that" you saw his shadow slip from under the door, drawing a finger along his neck and an ok hand gesture.

“But he did me a solid tonight, a huge one, if he asked me for a kiss tomorrow I would give him some sugar” the shadow winked then slipped under again.

“And if I did? Would you?” you knew what he was asking, but instead you just played something random in your head in hopes for him to let you sleep a bit, “Give you a kiss? My, my, your majesty, how forward”.

“You're a prude” he moved away from your neck, “I'm simply old fashioned”.

His hand rested on your cheek, gently moving towards your neck, not squeezing or pressing, just holding it. Your tail wrapped around your leg, at the same time you closed your eyes as her face approached, slowly. A kiss, calm, soft, near the corner of your lips.

"Is that okay?" you weren’t listening, you wanted to relish on the loveliness of his gesture, it made you all bubbly and lovely. You hummed, there was nothing else you could utter, not when his breath went back to your neck.  

A mental ‘fuck it’ later, had you yanking his head away from your neck and pressing your lips on his, "Remind me of this when I'm sober" as soon as you were done you pulled him back against you, "Will do" a loved sick king he was, reminded him when he just had met Lilith.

"And Y/n…if you gave me a chance and some time, you wouldn't be a replacement” after a second of thought and a heavy sigh, “Can I keep that option and sleep on it for a while?" he smiled then nuzzled into your warmth, as did you, "Sure thing, like I said, the option is there".

The way Lucifer saw it, an abstract void in which he was trapped, willingly so.

How can he put seven years of pain behind him? It is as if he is sitting in the dark, while the world moves around him, he doesn’t know if he falls or rises, he only feels the movement and how it leaves him behind in a certain way. He sees you, far away in the shadows, your body wrapped in them, covering everything except your face, to him it looks like you are drowning, in the center of your chest a white, empty hole.

Your tired eyes without more tears to shed, even without strength they managed to stay away from the shadows, how? He alone clinging to hope and denial kept the cold of loneliness and despair at bay.

Contrary from him, you maintained yourself above the darkness, standing, strong despite being tired out of your mind. He longed to know what drove you to keep walking despite everything. Reach you in some way, save you from the hands of pain that tried to drag you into oblivion.

What were you reaching for? Your arm was out stretched, towards the sky, was it heaven? Someone to help you? He wanted to, he wanted to move, why he couldn’t?

“Fuck, Y/n! Wait for me, please, I’ll find a way, I promise!” he yelled into the void, not getting your attention despite how many times he did, or how loud he was.

Specks of lights made you fade from view, “No, please, not you too, I can be better!” His knees shook, so he used his claws against the ground to try to move towards you, tearing the skin under his nails from the strength he put into it.

“Please, don’t leave!” he yelled one more time. And then, he felt how his agitated breathing dried his throat, the light from his room almost blinded his eyes when he opened them. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was a dream.

It was still pretty early, the sky was still dark, the only light that illuminated the room was the one from the bathroom.

You were kneeling near the toilet, head down, he guessed the alcohol caught up on you and moved away from him to vomit. Silently he picked up your hair from your face, gently holding all the soft strands in his hand, as the other caressed your back softly.  

Still, not a single word being uttered, he materialized you a toothbrush, then he waited for you to come back to bed, his arms open. This time he positioned himself behind your back, one arm under your neck and the other across your waist, avoiding pressing too hard.

You wondered, what made him treat you so sweetly? You touched with your index softly along the scratches on his wrist, “How can someone ethereal like you, be troubled by things so earth bound?” you realized you said it out loud when the hand that was on your waist moved to intertwine it with yours.  

“I’m far from ethereal” his hot breath was on your ear, the twitching made him smile. “You were an angel, how can someone like you feel so much pain?” It was difficult for him to analyze your question, were you perhaps questioning that angels did not feel emotions? “How? I feel, you like you” you shook your head, “That’s not what I mean” collecting your thoughts seemed impossible, it was a mental mess.

“You wonder why I feel pain?” you hummed in response, “I feel like at the beginning, helpless, useless, I took away her chance to go to heaven, believing I could make her happy, but it wasn’t enough” he then added “I wasn’t enough” hurt was an understatement, there was a whole set of words yo describe how his voice sounded, but his sadness overall brought a few tears to fall off your eyes.

“I may have felt the same way… still do” he hugged you even tighter, “We are two broken souls, a bunch of messy pieces” you leaned your face to the marks on his wrist, placing a subtle kiss as you joked “Scrap books”, making him smile and let out a small laugh, “You’re so cute”.

🍎📻

"Alastor, is me, open up" you leaned against the door frame, your headache killing your head and your stomach on the verge of jumping off your body. That and the tiredness for waking up in the middle of the night made your voice a bit raspy and slurred.

"Good morning mon chérie, how was your night?" either he was being a sunshine to piss you off, or he was in a sincere good mood…or both.

“I am never drinking again” he laughed a little, watching you push the silver ‘room service’ cart inside his room, setting it on a near corner.

“I assumed as much” he reached his bookshelf and pulled a couple pills out of a few boxes, “You're amazing” he got all kind of tingles when you took the pills off his hand, he relished on how unbelievably soft your skin was.

"I must say that about you, quite the entertainment your ex resulted to be" With his cup of tea he sat in a single red sofa chair, with his free hand he pat the black one on his side. You flopped on the seat with your cup of coffee.

“Is he dead?” he couldn’t tell by your already sour tone if you were being sarcastic or you really cared, "Barely alive, but healing, I will tore him apart again tonight" the little smile he got from you was delightful.

"Darling, I have some information for you" if the ass of your ex told him anything, you didn’t needed to know, curiosity burned your insides though. “What will it cost me?” he hummed pensative, “A kiss” that was odd coming from him, but then again you remembered telling him, or his shadow, that.

“The intel first, to see if it's worth it” you tried to laugh your urge to kill someone, “I know the name of the man your daughter got sold to, he's down here" he took a sip of his tea, "He's in the mafia district, I know where his base of operations is".

"I… want to see him first, hear from him what he did with my daughter, even if it hurts" he hummed in understanding, reaching your hand, giving you a reassurance squeeze.

"Again, thank you Alastor, you...have no idea how much I appreciate this" he smiled, the shadows that conformed the chair you sat on elevated you and with a swift movement you fell gently on Alastor’s lap. "Show me” ‘fucking narcissist’ you thought, bringing your hand to cup his cheek.

When your lips merged with his, time didn’t mattered, it in fact went a lot slower. He embraced your waist with one arm, bringing you closer if that was possible, his other one secured your back and neck in place, grasping a fistful of your hair once or twice.

He sensed his mental sanity left his body when he felt your hand on the back of his head, caressing ever so lightly, going down to the rim of his shirt, respecting the limit he wanted to eliminate.

He felt a little brave, comfortable with the interaction, the white shirt carefully tucked into your pants was lifted, allowing Alastor’s hand to roam around your back, feeling the corset laces, playing with them.

"Don't do that if you're not going to do something about it" you warned, your forehead in touch with his. Alastor’s smile softened, “I’m not partial to physical touch” he started, “You’ve made that clear” you giggled, pecking his cheek, earning a content sigh from him.

“Somehow you… how to put it? Make me desire it, to have you nearer than I accustom” you blinked a few times, your hand went back to his cheek, softly making your way to his hair, “I don’t understand why, nor this feeling, would you help me dearest?” He had closed his eyes when your hand touched him again, but at the end of his question he opened them.

Having known well the desire faces of countless men, you knew that what Alastor was begging for was not any sexual impulse, but closeness, warmth, softness. The pleasure that only a person who burns for another can deliver.

You weren't sure if you could provide him with such a feeling, however the guilt of having denied him your sympathy for fear of becoming too attached dissipated for a second.

His face got close once again, his eyes asking for permission, without wasting any more time you let him introduce his tongue into your mouth, a passion that ignited a flame of desire that ran through your entire body.

He pulled apart, “May I?” He referred to the bulletproof corset you were wearing. After nodding your head, he deftly undid the slats that held your torso together, as well as unbuttoned your shirt and removed the leather straps over your shoulders.

He seemed to pay no attention to the snake tattoo clutching your arm, making its way to in between your breast.

Exposed from the waist up, but that wasn't going to be uneven. You asked the same thing, your hands playing with the hem of his shirt, occasionally touching his Adam's apple to rile him up.

You knew he was unsure, but he nodded nonetheless. He kissed you again as he felt you letting his coat fall from his shoulders, as well as the leather cross that adorned his chest, and then one button at a time his shirt opened, until you had a clear view once again of the scars. under his fine fur, the already healed battle wound and his thin but strong torso.

His hands then touched a series of indentations on your skin, long and repetitive, almost all of the same length, spreading across your skin to a little below your shoulders. When he wanted to stop kissing you to take a look, you held his face against the back of the chair, "Don't make me feel like damaged goods, don't pay attention to what you're touching, okay?" You didn't want to see him feel sorry for you, for once you wanted to enjoy the attention without thinking about your past.

He obeyed your wishes. Standing up from the chair, with you up with him, in a flash of green, he laid you down on a dark red fabric, he had materialized a bed on his room.

His hands caressed from your shoulders to your breasts, perhaps admiring the shape or the softness, but more than anything, what made Alastor make sighs of pleasure was leaving small kisses and bites from your neck to the space between your breast.

The small electric sensations made you cling to his shoulders, fighting any urge to accidentally scratch him. Purposedly, returning to your face level, he pressed his groin against your core, a yelp escaped your throat, a sound that to his ears was heavenly.

“Take the cover off” He knew you used a dental cover over your fangs, mostly to avoid cutting your tongue or lips, “You want me to bite you?” he chuckled, his face adorned with a lustful glint, “I want you to devour me, chérie” with a snap of his fingers, he made it go away, leaving it on a tiny box on the shelf on top of the fireplace.

He left his collarbone exposed and free for you, raising his body a little higher, taking the opportunity to lick the sensitive edge of your ear. His breath caught as your teeth embedded in the curve where his shoulder and neck meet. When he was able to breathe again he exhaled shakily, causing your cervix to tingle.

Ecstasy, that was the word that came to Alastor's mind after trying to rationalize. His knees trembled, but he felt strong enough to lift your body and move you from the edge of the bed, towards the center, your head resting on one of the pillows.

Something that he could not do in life, but because it never occurred to him that he would need it, try the pleasures of skin. He moved down your body, hands on your belt, he again asked for your permission and with a smile you nodded. His constant questioning was refreshing, no one was interested in asking you if you wanted to be defiled, however, he was different.

Like the show man he is, he traveled down to your feet, pulling one up his shoulder, as he unzip your boots and felt all undergarments discarded on the edge of the bed. Never breaking eye contact as he did.

He also undid his pants, allowing you to see the red streak of hair that went down his bellybutton to the groomed part over his groin. He was big, the color of his skin matching the cream hue on his face, only lighter.

“I’ve never done this before” he confessed, ears to his sides, “You want me to take the lead?” you asked, not mocking but trying assure him it wasn’t something to be embarrassed about, “Tell me how can I pleasure you” your own ears went down embarrassed, “You don’t have to go down on me, but the path has to be opened, you can do it with your fingers”.

He hummed, burring his face in your neck as his hand went down your stomach, passing over your clit to go in between your folds, finding your wet entrance. You gasped, he rid of his claws as he introduced one finger.

Your hands flew to his back, alarming him a little, “It’s okay, it just…been a while, I kind of forgot the feeling” your face was flushed, too embarrassed to look at him in the eye. He continued a soft pumping motion, nipping on your neck as he did. Relishing on the gasps and moans that left your throat. He continued that way until he was able to add three fingers, and by the then your insides squeezed him tightly, then your back arched as you emitted a loud high gasp.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore, it felt so good, I’m sorry” he kissed your tears away, “I’m actually quite flattered I was able to pleasure you to the point of finishing just with my fingers” he made you laugh, “Al, please, I need you inside” your whole body was shaking as he touched you.

“With pleasure, ma belle vie” He positioned the tip on the edge, sending shivers up his spine. Little by little he pushed himself inside, all the way to the rim.

He waited for some kind of confirmation despite his urge to move, although he found your hips grinding on his was enough of a clue to continue.

His pace started off slow and gentle, when you pulled his face back for a kiss, something inside of him snaped. “Y/n” He brought your knees higher on his sides, making you press against his skin.

His eyes went black, his antlers and body increased in size, and so did his dick as he was still inside you. Not enough to rip you apart, but considerably bigger than at the beginning.

Alastor's mind suddenly switched off, wandering in darkness for a few seconds, “Alastor! Ah!” before your loud whine brought him to clarity again.

He looked down on you, "Are you alright?" On the inside he was worried out of his mind, but he tried to seem - in his own words- cool, as he asked.

Tears ran down your eyes, your skin was sweaty and flushed, you were panting and moaning as you tried to make up an answer. He felt your legs trembling against his skin. “Something like that” you said out of breath, a week smile on your face.

"Please don't stop now, I'm very close" he wanted to please you, but when he looked down at in between your legs, as he decreased in size, his dick was now soft and leaking.

"I think it won't be possible dearest" you shook your head with a soft smile, "Don't you worry, come here" he didn't noticed how much of his strength his orgasm took away, until he relaxed his body nuzzling into yours.

“Are you sure it’s enough?” since you had already came twice, you felt that you didn’t need to be greedy, after all, it was his first time. “I’m sure” to your eyes he truly seemed happy.

It warmed your heart when he hid his face on the crook of your neck, looping his arms around your waist and legs intertwined with yours. "I suppose after this you won’t be allowing me to touch you for a week” he sighed, “Most likely” you felt comfortable, happy, his was another type of warmth, “Y/n” he spoke, kissing the red marks he left on your skin.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I really am” spotting his ear, you seized the opportunity to nip at it, gently but with a little force that caused him to dig his nails on your hips, and let out a whine.

“What was that for?” he pushed himself off to hover on top of you, not necessarily angry but bothered and hot, “To piss you off” he groaned at your amused expression, not having any fun with it despite his permanent smile, “You’re more than forgiven, will you accompany me to pay the mobster a visit?” he sighed, lowering himself to kiss your lips before whispering against them, “It will be my pleasure, darling”.

You two agreed to stay a little bit more time in bed before attempting to shower, despite his wish to take a bath with you, he felt too overstimulated to allow any more touch, which you respected.  

Little did you know, that the king found himself making a mess inside his pants, as he had watched the whole thing from the rim of the door. With the aid of his wings he scurried back to his room, his hand going up and down his dick in an attempt to soothe the aching.

“Y/n” he repeated, panting. In his mind he saw himself taking hold of your hips, your hair, hands, breast. Holding your whole being against him. He thought he knew angelic chorus sounds, until your moans proved him wrong.

His breath hitched cumming a second time into his hand, “Fucking bell hop, fucking bastard” he hit the back of his head against the wall he was leaning in.

The painting of his wife on the wall made him feel guilty about what he had done. Masturbate thinking about someone else? he had never thought about it when she was away. He didn't even have the strength to do it anyway.

At the end of a mental torture, he concluded that the kiss you gave him last night was not enough, he was going to make sure he didn’t lost you to Alastor, he just had to figure how to convince you to want to live.

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

Stay tuned ;3.

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor x lucifer #alastor fanart #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor fluff

[silverameco]

Bookshop AU - @wolfstarmicrofic - 763 words

Sirius loved Tuesdays, because he didn't work the afternoon, and could go annoy his brother. Regulus had been working at Lily's bookshop for a few years now. It was striking how well he fitted in the place. When Lily openned her shop, Sirius never thought he would ever see his brother in it. And now, he couldn't imagine it without him.

Sirius was leaning against the counter, bickering with Regulus who kept rolling his eyes, pretending to be bother by it. Sirius knew he was enjoying his presence every Tuesday. They never thought they could have this, after all.

Regulus left him alone to fetch something at the back of the store. Suddendly, the bell of the door tinkled and Sirius turned his head to face the stranger. It might be the best thing he ever did, because the man standing before him was the most beautiful sight. He had sun bleached curls, tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose, and a scar crossing his face. Most of all, he had amber eyes glinting in the sun that filtered through the glass door. Sirius felt like he himself was glowing under his gaze.

"Hi, I'm looking for-", the stranger began.

"A book ?" Sirius interrupted with a cheeky grin. "I think you might be in the right place. A bookstore, that is."

The man sent him an amused smile. "Er, actually-"

"Sirius stop being rude to my customers, and my friends." Regulus said with an annoyed tone and his usual frown, coming back from the backstore. "Hi, Remus, ignore my stupid brother." he added to the stranger's attention.

Sirius couldn't process the information that this beautiful man was friend with his brother of all people. His mind was just a litany of Remus, Remus, Remus.

"Err- hey ! I'm not being rude." he said after a beat. "In fact, Remus, maybe I could help you find this book we were talking about-"

"No, you can't, you don't work here, Sirius." cutted his annoying shit of a little brother. "Come on, Remus, I'll show you the books we were discussing the other day."

He took Remus' arm, dragging him away, between the book shelves. Remus followed, but Sirius noticed his gaze lingering on him, a glint of something in his eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his lips.

So he waited patiently - maybe not so much - for them to come back at the front of the shop. When they did, Remus was holding three books. Sirius looked at the books while he payed for them. He could feel Remus very close to him, because Sirius was still against the counter. He didn't intend to move one bit.

Two of the books he didn't know, but the third one was Les Fleurs du Mal, by Charles Baudelaire. Poetry, then. With a flash of inspiration, he snatched the book from his brother's hand, ignoring his exasperated sigh.

"This one," he said, "is a very good choice."

Remus raised an interested eyebrow at him. "You like Baudelaire ?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Rimbaud kind of guy." answered Sirius with a knowing smile. "But this one is a very special edition."

"Oh, is it ?" Remus asked with an amused smile, seemingly waiting to see where he was going with this.

Sirius took a pen laying on the counter, openned the front page and began writing. He took his time, letting Remus pay meanwhile.

"Yes." he said finally, handing the book back to Remus. "It has my number on it. Call me, if you want."

Sirius said it with what he hoped looked like a confident smile, but really he was shaking a bit.

"You don't have to. He's annoying." Regulus said.

But Remus kept looking at him and smiled. "Yeah, but I think I will." he answered finally. Sirius felt his heart roared.

"You're both hopeless." commented Regulus.

"Bye Sirius." Remus said with a wink and then he was gone already.

Sirius looked at his brother with a huge grin, to which he answered with a glare.

"Do you really have to flirt with my friends ?"

Sirius gasped in offense. "You're literally dating my best friend and his girlfriend who is also my friend !"

This particular Tuesday would become one of Sirius' favorite days ever.

#throwing french poets in there for my own personal enjoyement #also jegulily crumbs bc i felt like it #and black brothers banter bc i love them #silv writes things #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards

[soft3spresso]

Turmoil

Law x gn reader

Warnings: little fight between Law and reader but nothing crazy, sfw and fluff at the end, good ending, FEELINGS

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you save Law’s life and he gets mad at you

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The moonlight danced with the dark sea water, accompanying you in your office as your eyes struggled to stay focus on the paper work in front of you, it was hard to tell the time when you lived in a submarine, but your body knows its well past 2 am, begging for you to snuggle into bed and drift away

From the shadows behind your door emerged your Captain, looking as tired as you did, a brow arching in confusion

“What are you doing?” His low raspy tone makes you jump on your seat as your eyes open wide in his direction, before they roll in annoyance and your eyebrows furrow

“Doing the work that YOU assigned me, Captain” the tone of your answer lets Law know that you’re still mad at him

“Should’ve thought better before-“ suddenly, and surprisingly you interrupt his so re-used speech he had given you a million times over since that evening

“Oh give me a break!” You trow your pen on the table, slamming your hands before gifting him the nastiest look he had ever witness painted on your face

Some days ago, the Heart Pirates found themselves in yet another fight were things weren’t going well for their Captain. You were the crews strategists and whenever you were caught in situations like these you were always by Laws side, but this time he had made you promise to stay out of trouble for this one, which in all honesty had struck your pride. Everyone knew how relentless of a fighter you were, that’s why you had gained such a position in the crew, so being told to back up was like a punch in the stomach, specially coming from your trusted Captain

Trafalgar Law was a stubborn, stubborn man, and that sometimes got him in more trouble that he could handle, as the enemies arrow flew trough his direction and a sword was drawn to his heart, in a blink of an eye you jumped in to protect him, without a second thought

Nothing bad had happened to you, you had came out victorious with a couple of scars nothing out of the ordinary, so when you were met by Laws angry eyes, a long speech on why what you had done was absolutely stupid and a punishment, you were left puzzled, and humiliated in front of all of your crew mates

Since then, you had been locked in your office, getting the extra work the doctor had assigned you so that ‘you learn how to listen’ done, and avoiding any words and looks of his

“I saved you” you got up of your chair as you walked towards the frame of your Captain, he may tower over you, but that would not stop you

“You put your life on the line y/n-ya, that I don’t tolerate” he answers you with a stern voice, eyes examining your every expression

“I did what I did because I wanted to, you may be the one giving orders around here, but you do not get dictate when or how I die”

As you get closer, Trafalgar cannot help but start to feel that maybe he was being selfish, after all, you had given him the greatest of gifts

Knowing there’s someone out there that is willing to die for you, no questions asks

But at the same time, the mere thought of losing you because he couldn’t be up to the task of protecting you boiled his blood and made his stomach turn a million times over

“Then maybe, you shouldn’t have joined my crew in the first place” he blurts out, every single word hitting you like a venomous snake bite, your heart clenching at the thought of being unwanted

Your greatest fear

Suddenly your body language does a 180, your anger being replaced with what could only be perfectly described as heartache. Almost immediately the doctor regrets even stepping foot in your office, before he can say anything you’re already back on your seat

“Sorry Captain” the pain in both your voice and your face makes Law hurt, and panic, and regret, yet words fail to come out of his mouth… just when he needed them most

“Don’t stay up too late” is all he can say before closing the door behind him

Next days in the Polar Tang were a pain, Law had been quite more irritable around everyone, even snapping on poor Bepo. You were either locked away working or in your room and sometimes even skipping dinner just to not cross paths with the damn surgeon, and if you were unlucky enough to do so, you would turn away immediately

Everyone knew something was up between the two of you, Ikkaku and Penguin had showed up at your office asking if everything was ok. You decided to keep it to yourself, you knew if Law found out you’re talking about him behind his back, about personal matters? Yeah, you would be dead to him, and even when mad, you respected him

Shachi was send to dig around Law, but when your name crossed his lips the doctor immediately shot down the conversation, this confirming their suspicions

But then, you finished the damn paper work, and guess who was the one you needed to hand it to?

You tried to convince anyone else to deliver the papers to Laws office, but it seemed like everyone had catch up and found this as an opportunity for you to make up with him, frustrating you beyond comprehension. They had even got to Bepo first

“Sorry y/n, I was told to tell you to deliver it yourself” he offered you a sympathetic smile, afraid of your answer, you just sighed defeated and thanked him anyways

“Just go in and hand him the papers! That easy” Ikkakus voice rings in your head as you try to wash your nervousness away in front of Laws office. Hesitantly you knock on the door, feeling lightheaded at the mere touch of it

“Go away Shachi” the doctors muffled voice meets your ears, confused you answer with the tiniest “It’s me, Captain” After a pause that felt like it lasted a decade, thinking he may had shambles himself out of the office, you hear a “Come in” so you do

You enter the office slowly, almost as if you made any sudden moves you’ll get caught like a pray in the wild. Trafalgar is sitting at his desk, his hands fidgeting and eyes following your form

“I have the paper work you asked for” you stay pretty far away from the desk, fear written all over you making Law feel twice as worse as he had been feeling this past few days

“Thank you y/n-ya, just leave them here” his voice sounded softer, but this didn’t made you feel any less scared as you approached the desk, gaze fixated on the papers in your hand. As you positioned your hard wok on the desk Law makes the uncharacteristic decision to hold your wrist before you retrieved, a shock running through your whole body at the action

Law’s heart beats a million times per second as he finds the right words to approach the matter, maybe he should’ve thought about them before taking your hand, your soft skin touching his freezing him. You lock eyes for a second and finally Law understands everything he had done wrong, from being ungrateful, rude, harsh and just overall mistreating the person he cares for the most

He would rather being shot than admit he was in the wrong, but he knew if he didn’t he’ll lose you, which was the reason he had caused this mess in the first place, so he swallows his pride

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed at you in front of everyone, or made you do all this work and… saying those awful things”

The fear washes from your body as you hear his apology, something you never thought you’d witness in your life, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding since you stepped foot on the door, offering Law a genuine smile that made his heart fall to his feet

“It’s ok Captain”

“Law” he says, letting your hand go as his own insecurities disappear, thinking you were gonna bash at him after his apology

“Law” you parrot back, earning him another sweet smile of yours

“I just… didn’t wanted to lose you, I was so lost in that thought that I didn’t realize that’s exactly what I was doing” you had seemed to have pushed a button because he just couldn’t stop the thoughts that just fell directly to his tongue and overflow like a cascade out of his mouth

Laws eyes open wide as he sees you approach the other side of the desk, your arms wrap around his wide form like the softest blanket, hugging him while he still sits on the chair, your head resting in top of his. The surgeon stays completely still, taken aback

“Thank you for apologizing Law, I really appreciate it” you whisper making his face bright red and his hands shake, the way your body weights over his makes his brain malfunction and his heart go wild

You let go and approach the door of the office, Law remaining completely broken and flushed in his seat

“See ya’ at dinner.. Law” you say his name mischievously, giggling after before you disappear

The Captain stays still for a while, alone in his office, thinking about everything being open about his thoughts and feelings had gained him, and how addicting his name sounded falling from your sweet lips

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

This came to me in a dream and wrote it in almost one sitting lmao, feel free to request anything you wanna read I am having so much fun writing his emo ass

Reblogs are appreciated ;)

#one piece #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #law x you #law imagine #law x reader #law one piece #law x y/n #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #writting #fanfic #one piece imagine #one piece oneshots #trafalgar op #trafalgar law oneshot

[weird-an]

Steve is in a great mood. He's been whistling all day and it's getting on Robin's nerves.

"What's her name?" she asks, because the self satisfied grin on Steve's face an only mean one thing.

"What?" Steve blinks at her. Still smiling. Jesus.

"Of your date," Robin says. "Did you get lucky yesterday?"

"Oh," Steve pauses, then gets a dreamy look on his face. "Very."

The door bell chimes. Damn, of course they'd get interrupted once it gets interesting.

"'Sup." Billy Hargrove has a lit cigarette dangling between his lips.

"No smoking here, asshole," Robin shouts.

Billy flips her off but flicks the cigarette out of the door. The grin on Steve's face is still there. Wide and bright like he's in a toothpaste commercial.

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

"Hey Hargrove," Steve says. He's got fucking heart eyes.

Robin is happy for him, but she also wants to puke.

Robin slowly turns around to Billy. He's got a hickey on his neck. She can't look away now.

"Harrington," Billy purrs - and it sounds so dirty and forbidden.

"Your taste in men sucks," Robin tells Steve.

"Oh, I can suck." Billy winks at her.

Ugh.

"Promises," Steve sighs.

No fucking way she's staying any longer.

"I'm takin' my break," Robin announces. These two look like they're about to do it on the counter any second.

"Take your time," Steve says absently. He's got Billy's pendant in his hand.

She must admit, she has never seen Steve so stupid - and so happy.

#poor robin #they're idiots and she's got the brain cell #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

[moneymartin]

MAY I REQUEST FOR LOTTIE WITH A SKATER GF HCS

🦌-lottie with skater!gf hcs

k this has been sitting in my inbox for like a week im sorry zzz also pulling stuff out of my ass cuz im so sleepyt

rich girl yes, she def buys you your gear and shit

if you ask her for a new deck she will literally get it for you no hesitation even if she already got you one

even the clothes and shoes like okayyyy (all brand name clothes for skating r so expensive too omfg)

offering her some help cause she wants to learn just for you

one day before she asked for it though she came home with scratches and a few bruises here and there cause she was trying to learn while you were out of the house :(

cannot balance thats why it happened

when you do end up teaching her though she is gripping onto you so tight it feels like your shirt is gonna rip 😭 she’s terrified of falling in front of you it is literally her biggest fear

teaching her tricks is a whole new level like she cannot pop up the tail properly and always holds on to you cause she sux!

you probably get her the skate trainers so she can do them when you’re gone ☹️

idk if ppl are gonna know what i’m talking abt but having her stand on the board while you hold her hands and she jumps so you can make the board underneath spin

please tell me you guys know what i’m talking abt or i’m gonna sound fucking crazy…

when she gets what she considers good she always calls you out so you can see her do a silly lil pop shuv or a strawberry milkshake 😭

when you sucked at skating you would get hurt ALL THE TIME!!!

lots of blood thats for sure.. lottie tending to your wounds and calling you ‘stupid’ for not wearing a helmet

you tell her “it looks dumb on me” and she ends up smacking you in the area where it hurts just so you know not to do it again and wear the damn helmet no matter how dumb it looks 😒

makes up for that tho fs! kisses your little scratches and bruises while you sleep so they magically feel better in the morning

definitely gives you massages too like she is such an angel oh my god

i think if you broke her arm or leg she’d FREAK!!!

she sees your hand twisted in that weird way but you’re just sitting on the floor holding up your wrist while she’s literally sobbing and calling an ambulance 🤧

same thing with the leg me thinks… your ankle twisted or something like that

when you get your arm casted up she helps you do everything like dress and cook and all that shebang

also she writes all over the cast like she makes it hard for the other yjs to sign it cause all there is on there is her name a bunch of times and a million hearts and doodles

one space on there where the yjs have their names cramped up while lottie’s is everywhere 😕

when it heals and you start to skate again lottie makes you wear a big ass sweater with a shit ton of padding underneath

probably makes you wear big old pants too so she can pad them up as well

gets you a big dumb helmet too so you don’t get hurt

but in reality she just cares about you too much and hates seeing you in pain 🙁🙁🙁

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie x reader #lottie matthews yellowjackets #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #charlotte matthews x reader #yellowjackets headcanons #lottie matthews headcanons #yellowjackets x you

[blueberryarchive]

i want reader to call him again...please

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧!𝙟𝙠

previously on steph's house...

tw: mentions of non-con

You've always heard men talk about having called at least once in their life to have sex on the phone. They usually called in groups, mutual support or stupidity, you didn't know which it was.

You knew you always wanted to know how those women could have such rich, soft and daring voices. Even when they laughed it seemed like a well-rehearsed choreography and at the end they said your name as if they knew you down to your bones. You wanted that gift, you would pay for that gift.

Now much more than ever. Or maybe you would like to know how to make another decision as daring as taking the phone from the living room again and hiding it in the bathroom at Steph's house. The girls sleeping upstairs. You should probably go back to bed.

How dare you? You have a boyfriend, for God's sake. And not only that, but with this idiot? You could feel Steph's gaze on the back of your neck, judging your finger to make the final turn.

555-5662

The buzzing is the same, the heavy lump in your throat is not. You knew what awaited you on the other side of the line, it was cruel and disgusting; but you were lying if you said you didn't need to listen a little more.

In the silent night, in the darkness of the chick-yellow bathroom, shame haunts you, warming your ears, your hands on the phone when the soft click was heard on the other side.

"Mm." Was his response, silence was yours. What the hell had you done, were you crazy?

"Fuck," he laughed lowly, "not you again."

"Do you really play?"

"I'm on the team, if that's what you want to know. But I don't think you're adding numbers to your phone bill to ask so much shit, am I wrong?"

You let your forehead cool on the tiles on the wall, is he wrong?

"God, if I had you in front of me…” Jungkook sighed and your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"I would force your mouth open to see if you learn to answer people when they talk to you."

"Do you always have music on when you sleep?"

"Are you always such an annoying cunt?"

Your chest burns, your eyes sting.

"You probably have a boyfriend, you all have a lapdog behind you so you don't get bored."

"Please. My boyfriend can kick your ass." You responded quickly, letting the burning spread like burning garbage.

"Are you, then?"

"What?"

"Are you so bored that you have to call the weirdo from college."

"I don't even know why they consider you weird."

This time the laughter was genuine, stupid popular girl, didn't know what she was getting into.

"You would have noticed a while ago if you were in front of me."

"Are you missing teeth or something?" You laughed, chewing on your nails.

"I'd have you bend over with your head on the ground while I split that pussy in two. You'll probably be crying and your little pussy bleeding from the dryness."

"What if I don't want to?" And you cursed yourself for having hesitated, your callgirl career looked even further away.

"Who said anything about wanting?"

And there it was, the heavy knot tied lower, down your stomach to your legs.

"That's illegal."

"Shut up and put your hand between your legs." He interrupted. The smell of detergent was so strong all of a sudden, you looked at your pathetic reflection in the sink mirror.

"You're sick."

"And you're an insignificant whore who calls me at 4 in the morning to listen to my voice and touch herself. Wanting me to tell her exactly what she wants." The stranger growled under his breath. "You're all so spoiled and pathetic, you disgust me."

"Fuck you." Your wet cheeks started to bother you.

Silence, his laughter was lethal, hoarse from hours of interrupted sleep.

"Don't let me find out who you are, callgirl. You gonna' regret it."

Your eyes opened, the darkness and silence were no longer your allies, they now seemed to engulf you. Click, the unbearable tone torturing your ear.

#❗slasher! jk thoughts #bts #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader

[rinhaler]

I Should Just Walk Away !

His knuckles are split, what are you meant to do? Not tend his wounds? Someone’s gotta do it! It doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck him again. No way.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot (and a sprinkle of angst?) Notes: I'm gonna make a masterlist and stuff bc I love this au but I'm lazy pls bear with me! ♡ Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, blood ♡, wound care, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, tit sucking ♡, slight edging?, dacryphilia, m+f masturbation, car sex ♡, vaginal sex, creampie ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, kid), mutual pining ♡, angst??, calls ur pussy she/her ♡, (lmk if i missed any!!) Words: 8k

—

Even after proclamations of love for each other, the rest of the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision to divulge the truth of your tryst with Sukuna to your little brother.

You could try to reassure him. But what would be the point? You’re only a few years older than him, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. When you were Megumi’s age, though, you had parents.

They were alive.

Sure, you were somewhat rebellious but you behaved for the most part. You studied, worked hard, steered clear of ‘bad’ boys. And, as Sukuna so elegantly put it, you’re a ‘snooty doctor’. You’re thankful for that, because without that salary you’d never be able to afford subsidising your brother.

You had your parents.

But you’re all Megumi has.

It’s a little unsettling how quiet he’s actually being. You were bickering not too long ago, you’re taken aback that he seems to have no desire to continue. A fleeting thought that he might be trying to punish you enters your mind.

Your head snaps a few times to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little grimace on his face as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

It’s disgust.

“Are we okay?” you wonder, and the way it leaves your lips in a warble must be pathetic for your brother to hear. He scoffs immediately after, still outright refusing to say another word. You make sure to keep an eye on the road, though your gaze can’t help but wander towards your sibling when you get a chance. “I’m just going to make sure he’s patched up properly, okay? He’s not staying the night.”

“As if that matters.” he rolls his eyes.

It should matter. You don’t know what he means, and you don’t dare ask him to elaborate. There’s no reason for you to be scared of a seventeen-year-old. You aren’t. You’re more afraid of disappointing him.

“Megumi…” you take a breath. “It’s late. I think we should talk properly tomorrow.”

He takes a breath not too dissimilar to yours, you aren’t sure if it’s inherited or if it’s a habit he’s picked up from you. Is he mocking you? He doesn’t say much more, shrugging his shoulders is an answer all on its own. And still, it makes your heart twist as anxiety pierces through it like a stake.

“Fine.”

“Really?!” you bark out unintentionally. Maybe he’s more mature than you’ve given him credit for, because agreeing to talk properly is the last thing you expected. Your eyebrows knot briefly, and you look at him again when you reach a red light. “Are you fucking with me? You’re not serious, are you? You’re gonna sneak out in the morning and I won’t see you until—”

“I said fine. Didn’t I?” he grunts. “At least be quiet when you fuck him if you insist on lecturing me in the morning.”

“I’m not doing it again, I told you.” you assure him. “It was a stupid mistake and I regret it but I just wanna make sure his hand is okay. And then I’ll tell him to leave. I promise.”

“Should prob’ly tell him that, ‘cause he won’t stick around once he realises.” you both find yourselves looking in the rearview mirror at the man following behind you at a distance before quickly averting your eyes. “Don’t make promises you’re not gonna keep. You sound like my dad.”

“Ouch, babe. Noted.” you laugh a little despite being genuinely offended.

The rest of the journey is completed with your brain on auto-pilot. You aren’t even sure how you made it home without crashing once you realise you’ve parked perfectly in the driveway.

Megumi snatches your purse and ducks out of the car, making a beeline for the front door. You watch him as you allow your head to gently thud against the headrest behind you; he’s frantically looking for the house keys so he can shield himself from any possible sighting of you and his boss together.

He drops your purse on the ground with little care once he finds what he’s looking for, and you’re startled when you hear a knuckle lightly rap against your window.

“Nice place, princess.” he speaks, though it’s slightly muffled by the closed window.

“Stop calling me—”

“Oi. Pick up the purse.” Sukuna warns your little brother before he can hide indoors.

He looks over his shoulder at you both before slowly crouching down to pick it up. He grips it tight before finally disappearing.

Sukuna gives you room to breathe before offering a hand to help you out. Like you’ve never gotten out of your car before. Instead of taking it, you stare. You stare at his obscenely large hand and can’t help but remember his fingers had been inside of you mere moments ago.

You smile, as politely as you can, before hurriedly chasing after your brother.

He saunters after you with a lazy smirk playing on his features. You only see it when you remember you’d forgotten to lock your car. The sound of his Mercedes locking is a deafening reminder.

You enter your home; he hadn’t even bothered to turn a single light on as he charged straight towards the kitchen. You’d expected him to have locked himself in his bedroom by now. But instead, his silhouette is illuminated by the light emanating from the open fridge.

He grunts when you switch on the living room light, looking at you like a raccoon caught going through the trash as he chomps down on the cereal you’d bought on the way home from work.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the cupboard?” you ask him as you take off your coat and throw it down over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t be eating so late, y’know.”

“I’m starving. I didn’t eat today, ‘m a growing boy, y’know.” he counters. He moves to look through each and every cupboard. He looks at you and shrugs before continuing to eat.

Your eyes are both directed to the sound of a gently closing door. You half smile at Sukuna as he enters before you look at your brother again in contemplation.

“Oh I moved it to the bathroom ‘cause we never use it.” you sigh as you make your way there. “You can finish eating in your room if you want.”

“Tryna get me out the way?” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t wanna stick around here anyway.” he side eyes Sukuna as he walks with his bowl towards his room.

You don’t see the amused grin he offers your little brother while you retrieve the first aid kit.

If you had, you’re sure you would have sent him home too.

“Sorry,” you groan, setting the kit down on the coffee table. You stand with your hands on your hips as you stare at him. It’s dawning on you, now, regardless of how exhausted you are. You’ve let a man you barely know into your home. A man older and stronger than you’d ever hope to be. You’ve welcomed a criminal into the space that is meant to be the safest for your little brother.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, sweetheart.” he cuts through your thoughts as if he can read your mind. It makes your heart race, though your face remains stoic as you try and disguise your evident worry. “Last thing I wanna do is scare you, though. I’ll go if you’re—”

“No, it’s fine.” you interject. “I’m tired, though. I’m gonna get changed because I wanna go straight to sleep after this, okay? You’re not staying.”

“Shame, I had fun.” he grins, circling the couch before sinking into it. His body is angled towards you while his eye looks you up and down with purpose. “Get comfy, I’ll be right here waiting for you, darlin’.”

Even someone as headstrong as you can’t deny how giddy he makes you. You walk backwards, unable to take your eyes off him before you eventually find your bedroom. Everything he says is so intentional, it’s almost vindictive. Like he knows just what to say to have you weak at the knees for him.

But this isn’t you.

You’ve never been the type to fall for a man’s alleged charm quite so easily. But you also didn’t think you were the type of person to fuck a stranger. He isn’t exactly a stranger, though.

He’s Megumi’s boss.

“Stop calling him that.” you whisper to yourself as you try and break yourself out of your spiralling train of thought.

You dress yourself in the most unflattering pyjamas you can find, wearing them with the full expectation of turning Sukuna off of you. He can’t possibly still be angling to fuck again when he sees you in mismatched pyjamas, complete with aged holes and stains from that one spaghetti night you and Megumi attempted.

There’s a feeble attempt made at wiping your makeup off, although you barely try. Your smile is almost blinding as you look at what a mess you are. The panda eyes from your smeared eyeliner and mascara enhance your sunken eyebags. Your eyeshadow glitters across the bridge of your nose and into your hairline beside your temples. Your pretty lipstick that you’d lined so perfectly is half removed while the other half is smudged down your chin.

You emerge from your bedroom with a confidence you only ever experience when you’re at home in your comfiest clothes. Despite your appearance, and even despite your company, you’re so content.

His eyes squint as he looks at your face, and even still, he’s smiling. He chuckles softly as you get closer to him, sitting beside him as you open the first aid kit.

“You look way prettier like this, princess.” he tells you, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to stare.

“Ah! Really? You think I look prettier?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, you look awful.” he laughs. “Is this all for my benefit? I still want to fuck you, admirable attempt though.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes as he laughs a little more, and you force yourself to frown when you realise his laughter is contagious. Everything he does is so effortless; you can’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks.

His eye fixates on you as you begin to look through your little first aid kit and pick a few things to use on his knuckles.

“I’m sure you could have done this yourself,” you start as you pick up a packet of antiseptic wipes and begin to clear the blood surrounding his knuckles. “Could have gone to a walk-in place if you were really worried.”

“Of course I could. Been doing this for years, did you really believe I don’t have my own first aid kit?” he asks. “I wanted you to do it.” he confesses, though he’s no longer smiling. You don’t stop wiping away the combination of wet and crusted over blood on his hand, though you can’t help but stare back at him.

Is he trying to scare you?

“You’re unbelievable.” you tell him, quietly.

“It’s hard to do it with one hand, sweetheart. And you’re a professional, I’d have to be an idiot to do it myself.”

You look away, only to pour rubbing alcohol onto a clean wipe. He can’t help but be transfixed as he watches you, admiring how your dainty little hands are so delicate with the equipment. How your face appears so irritated as you perform tedious tasks such as this, but you do it regardless, and he thinks it’s sweet.

“You should be on my payroll,” he finally smiles again. “My private doctor.”

“No.” you shut him down.

“I forgot how stuck up you are. I thought you’d at least be fununtil tomorrow.”

“Be grateful I’m doing this at all.” you reply with ease. All enjoyment and giddiness over his company seems to be a distant memory as you recall the type of man he actually is. You’re grouchy and exhausted, and he’s testing your patience. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you do. And I hate that you’re involving Megumi.”

“Lighten. Up.” he warns you.

You press the wipe quickly into his cuts, and you can’t help but smile as he winces from the abrupt stinging pain. You laugh harder as he tries to downplay it. His expression becomes unreadable as he tries to appear detached. You can see it in his visible eye, though. It’s watering.

He can’t help but break at the sound of your laughter, however, as you continue to snicker whilst rummaging through for a roll of gauze to wrap around his knuckles.

“I usually don’t crack when I do that myself. You wanted it to hurt.” he smirks, shaking his head.

“Guilty.” you continue to giggle as you face him again.

He doesn’t say another word as he watches you wrap a thick enough layer of bandages around his bloody knuckles. The somewhat shallow lacerations seem to cause slight discomfort despite being taken care of. You watch him, purposefully, as he flexes his fingers a few times to test how it feels.

You aren’t sure if he knows you’re staring, but his guard seems down. It could be an act to disarm you, but you aren’t convinced he’s a good enough actor to pull it off. The genuine curiosity and intrigue on his face due to your handiwork makes you feel off. Is he judging your ability to provide proper care?

It’s not like you wanted to.

But you both know that’s a lie.

He grins when he finally notices you staring at him. And that makes you relax. You were right, he was genuinely lost in thought despite being in your presence.

“You should go now,” you say quietly. You angle your body to rest your arm over the back of the couch, your balled fist supporting your head as you begin to yawn. “I’m tired.”

“Sure.” he nods, moving to stand before relaxing into the soft seating. “I need your number.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, ya need to give it to me sweetheart,” he smirks, mirroring your body language. “Need it so I can tell you when I wanna see you again.”

You scoff, shaking your head defiantly at his bold claim. The thought of him clicking his fingers for you to come running like a loyal lap dog is almost enough to make you gag. You’d slap him if it wasn’t so late, you’re too tired and you don’t want to cause a fuss for Megumi or your neighbours.

“You’re never gonna see me again,” you smile, biting your lip as you look him up and down. “And you’re not seeing Megumi, either. He’s done with your little fight club. And I’m done with you, period.”

“Aren’t you meant to be smart? Concerning that a doctor could be so naïve.” he squints slightly as he regards you, looking you up and down as you had him. You’re so sure of yourself, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve forgotten about your current appearance. “I’ll be seein’ you both again. Megumi isn’t quitting. And I like you, and I’m not the type of man to give up things I like.”

“Tough shit,” you laugh lightly. “You’re gonna have to find another poor woman to pester. I’ve got enough going on without dealing with a loser like you.”

“A loser? Really?” he chortles. “You were moaning on my dick and calling me daddy earlier. Now I’m a loser?”

“Shut up.”

He leans in close to you, noses almost touching and his smile widens further as he sees how glittery your face is from your poor makeup removal. “Are you only going to be nice to me when I fuck that brat out of you?”

You turn your head away, your heart racing as your body betrays you. The want and desire bubbles in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t. You know you can’t; because you promised.

He isn’t special.

Sukuna is not special.

“You’re not fucking anything out of me.” you tell him, peering out of the corner of your eye to see him look a little surprised at your declaration. He thought you were playing hard to get. You aren’t playing. “It was a one-time thing.”

“Really?” he asks, barely missing a beat as he responds. “I don’t understand you. I thought—”

“Of course you don’t understand me. You’ve known me for a few hours. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you know me.” you remind him. And he nods, he agrees with you. He’d be a fool not to, and the man is no fool. “It was just a heat of the moment mistake. I mean it. I don’t want to see you again and I’m not letting Megumi fight anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you scoff. “He’s a child. It’s dangerous. I don’t want him—”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not stupid, I know why you don’t want him to fight anymore. Do I look like a moron to you?” he asks, voice gruff and harsh as he interrupts without a care. His temper is visible and rising as he begins to run out of patience for your attitude with him. “Why don’t you want to see me?”

“Because you’re shady and I don’t want to upset my brother. He’s already upset, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“Excuse m—”

“That’s a reason why Megumi doesn’t want you to see me. Yeah I’m a little shady, but you like me. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me come over here, see where and how you live, and tend my wounds like a good girl.” he sneers.

“Fine. I don’t like you and I don’t want to have a platonic relationship with a criminal. Let alone a romantic one. What happened earlier was a mistake.”

“… You’re lying.” he says, and it’s curt. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head with an amused laugh as you digest his denial. How he can sit there and act so full of himself when you’re being perfectly clear is beyond you. It’s jarring.

You jolt as you feel thick fingers lightly grip your jaw. Your wandering gaze is now brought to him. Your eyes forced to fixate on the placid expression plastered across chiselled features.

“I see you, princess. You don’t wanna see me because you want to get mixed up with a criminal, and you’re scared of that. I see you.”

You stare at him, licking your lips not so discreetly as he continues to cradle your jaw. His lips curl at the sight of the little pink muscle slipping between your lips to wet them. You’re angry. Furious at yourself for letting him touch you, hold you, like this. And you hate yourself, right now. Maybe even more than you hate him, too.

Because he’s right.

Your lack of action gives him cause to stare down at your shimmering lips, it’s a warning. A silent announcement for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let go, but his head tilts. He leans in closer to you, daring to give you what you both know you want.

And again, he’s thwarted.

You turn away, unable to look at him right after this time.

“… You should go, now.” you tell him.

He sighs, but pulls away. You almost mewl as his thumb softly swipes across your chin. And when he withdraws it, you feel your body fill with loneliness. Your skin feels colder.

And it hurts, because he’s on the right track. You’re pushing him away because of Megumi. But deep down, as much as you crave him right now, you know it’s the right thing to do. You jolt a little as he abruptly stands up from the couch, the breeze from his movement makes you freeze.

He sees it.

“Go to bed, you’ll warm up.” he says bluntly before making his way towards the front door. He stops as he grabs the handle, holding up his bloodied knuckles. “Thank you, for the first aid.”

“It’s… it’s fine. No problem. Goodnight, S-Sukuna.” you say, cursing yourself for the audible whine in your words despite your attempted conviction. You watch him as he grabs the handle before turning to face you again.

“Come with me.” he tells you, curling the tip of his index finger. “I need to give you something, don’t argue. For once.” he demands.

You’re compelled to follow, in spite of his demeaning way of summoning you. You truly don’t want him to leave, you don’t want him to go, so any extra time you can spend with him, you’ll take.

He walks ahead of you, leaving you shivering in the doorway as you try and preserve any warmth you can. He opens the door to his car and turns around, a little bewildered that you aren’t right behind him. It makes you giggle to see him look around in search of you before he finally spots you still at the front door.

“Come here.”

You close the door and rush to his side, quickly looking back to make sure Megumi isn’t looking for you. He rests his arm atop the roof of his Mercedes, before holding out a small piece of paper between his fingers to you.

It’s a business card.

“What kind of thug needs a business card?” you ask before you even think about what you’re saying. He scoffs, squinting at you.

“You’ve only fucked me once, you don’t know me.” he smirks. And at that, you can’t help but laugh. “What you said… makes it seem like we’ll learn more about each other if we keep fucking.”

“I don’t want to know you, Sukuna.” you sigh, reluctant to keep up the charade. Reluctant to keep pretending he doesn’t excite you. To keep pretending the few hours you’ve spent with him haven’t been the liveliest your life has been in years. Maybe ever, really. “I can’t be selfish, you don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised.” he says, abruptly. “Why did you follow me out here if you don’t want to know me?”

“Because you asked me to, you said you wanted to give me something…”

“You could have said no. Do you always do what people tell you? You wanted to. I wanted you to. And now you’re here, you have my number. If you want to be selfish… you know where I am.”

“I don’t—” you sigh, shivering aggressively before you push his card back into his chest. “I don’t need this.”

He grabs your wrist hellbent on sending you away with this one little piece of the puzzle of his life. A way to talk to him again if you change your mind. He’s giving you access, he wants you to take it, desperately.

He crouches down, levelling his head with your own so his one, uncovered eye is levelled with yours. He can’t help but smile, it’s almost maniacal, as he watches your resolve falter under his glare.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, kid.” he grins. “And you’re not all that smart, for a doctor.”

Your face burns with heat. And you can’t tell if it’s rage or lust. Do you want to kiss him or kill him? You don’t know, you don’t know. His smile grows wider as he realises what he’s done to you. Your faces are so close to each other and this time you can’t will yourself to turn away. You can’t submit, not after this.

“I’m smarter than you.” is all you can think to say. It feels pathetic and phoned in. And he reads it, too, by the ever-growing look of amusement on his face.

“I don’t doubt that.” he nods. “What’s got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm? ‘Cause I called you a dumb li’l doctor? Or ‘cause daddy, called you kid?”

You feel your face sear further. So much so you can even detect each and every drop of sweat beading at your hairline. You’d forgotten it was freezing outside, instead trying to find a way to subtly cool yourself.

“You d-didn’t even call me dumb. I’m not.” you say, stuttering over yourself like a true idiot as you try and gain some semblance of composure through this agonising conversation.

He closes the already small distance between you, placing his hand on the small of your back and pulling you towards him. Your eyes flutter closed under his as he examines you. His head tilting and turning, forcing himself in your line of view.

“I am learning more about you. Should we fuck about it, sweetheart?”

“What are you—”

“Do I remind you of your old man, hah? I bet that’s it… was daddy never proud of you?” he chuckles darkly, carding his fingers through your hair as he stares down at you. “S’that why you like me, darlin?”

“Shut up.” you respond, voice meek and pathetic as you wrestle with your will and want. His fingers lace through your hair, delicately holding the crown of your head before you find yourself being pulled closer still. His lips ghost yours, and he’s a tease. He’s such a fucking tease.

“Got a thing for older guys who talk to you like shit… I see it. Get too much respect at your little doctor job all day. Do you like being talked down to, hm? No wonder you like a thug like me.”

“You don’t know what you’re— You d-don’t even know.”

“Yeah? I don’t?” he asks, his tone melodious and teasing. His head tilts back, the feel of his lips intensely teasing yours soon broken as he does. But you look up to him, eyes full of anguish and sorrow like a kicked puppy who doesn’t know what it wants. You hate him and the reason is clear.

You don’t hate him at all.

You just hate that he’s right.

“I think I’m right. I think you’ve got daddy issues, and you like it when I call you kid.” you turn away as he speaks. But almost as quickly as you do, he’s forcing you to look at him again. His ruby eye flaring, an expression all of its own. A warning, a look of command. A look of lust. “Am I right, baby? Is your little cunt soaked ‘cause I call you kid?”

“… I have to go.” you say, quietly.

“Sure.” he smirks.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelms you as you recognise in his smile that you’ve done this dance before. You can’t move and you can’t speak. There is no desire in you to leave him now and return to your home, your bed, like you should.

All you can do is stare. Your eyes fixated on the man who has just read you like a book. His amused expression doesn’t falter. He’s patient, surprisingly. You wouldn’t have painted him as a man with patience. But looking at him now, you know he’d be willing to wait all night if he had to. He’d wait for the sun to rise just to prove a point.

But he doesn’t need to.

You lunge forward, your hand cupping his face as you break the boiling tension between you and seal your acceptance with a scalding kiss.

He won.

He told you before, he doesn’t lose.

Your lips suctioning and pecking at his would make you embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He welcomes it, too, meeting yours with just as much urgency. He wraps his arms around your back as you slip your tongue between his lips, allowing them to tangle and swirl in a passionate encounter.

He chuckles into it as you curse. Curse him, curse his name. You can’t believe he’s reduced you to this, again. Your heart heaves in your chest, and you break away just to instruct him.

“Open the fucking back door.”

He laughs again, keeping hold of you as he guides you in a way he can carry on kissing you and still do as he’s told. He ducks in first, pulling you in with him right after. You grind your hips against his heavy bulge as he closes the door after you. He looks up to admire you, to adore you.

“You smeared your makeup like a fucking idiot so I wouldn’t fuck you,” he laughs. “And look at you, humping my cock like a desperate little pet.”

“Shiiiit, I forgot I’m a mess.” you sigh, though you don’t really care. You wrap your arms around his neck, keening as his heavy palms grip your thighs press you flush against his body. “This is the last time. I m-mean it.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” he says, smugly.

You dismiss it, too enamoured by the feeling of his bulge alone as you continue to grind down hard and purposefully onto him. He’s relaxed, allowing you to take the lead and go at your own pace.

It’s embarrassing, really, you’re not as experienced as he seems to be. He’s older. And you hate to admit it, wiser. When it comes to encounters such as this, anyway. You’re smart and well read, sure, but casual hook ups are foreign to you.

You’ll keep that to yourself for as long as you can, you can’t think of anything worse than giving Sukuna that little tidbit of information about you. That he is only the third guy you’ve fucked.

He hit the nail on the head back at the club, but you can’t let him know that.

“Let me feel.” he mutters. His hand holds your hip to keep you in place. Another snakes down into your sleep shorts, his mouth falls open with an amused chuckle as he touches you. “Still full’a me, baby. Bet I’ll slide right in.”

His fingers play with your pussy without any real goal. And still, it makes you delirious. He smears the evidence of your previous tryst around your folds, and he watches with conviction as his fingers circle your clit.

He withdraws them, briefly, to move your shorts into the crease of your thigh. You watch him, and he doesn’t take his eye off you, either. Your lower lip droops as you admire him. Truthfully, you’ve never been in the presence of someone so domineering as him. He is the true definition of a red-blooded male.

Sukuna is huge. In the literal sense, he is unnaturally tall. His build is enormous, his hand is larger than your face. But his aura alone is enough to fill an entire room with an ambience that he sees fit. He could instil fear into the minds of men just because he wills it.

Unfortunately for you, you are not immune to his will.

“You’re so pent up darlin’, you must work hard. Y’need to relax… no wonder you can’t keep your hands off me.” he says. It could be read as demeaning. You think it should be. And yet, you don’t detect any malice from him. He makes a show of spitting on his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as the ‘ptuh’ sound leaves his lips. It makes you shudder.

Though when he touches you with such purpose, so lewdly, a whine you never knew you could make leaves your lungs. He looks up at you like you hung every star in the sky as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. The ‘shlick’ suctioning sounds of your already tainted walls couldn’t possibly be any louder.

He sees how embarrassed you are, but he doesn’t care. Your nose crinkles and your eyes close softly. He curls his fingers and his palm flattens against your clit. And you cry out for him, lurching forward as you wrap your arms around his head rather than his neck. He’s surprised to see your hips rock against his touches, riding his fingers like it’s the only contact you’ve ever known.

His free hand reaches up to tug down your vest. His tongue is flat and wide as he sticks it out to lick your bare tits. He isn’t rough, he isn’t aggressive, he isn’t rushing. He sensually swirls his tongue over your nipples, breathing heavily on occasion before he kisses them. You whimper when he sporadically skims his teeth across them. There’s no bite. No effort. He just wants to hear you cry for him like that. It’s like his teeth are barely there, just enough that you know they are.

“Do you touch yourself?” he mumbles against your skin. You can’t bear to look at him after hearing that. You pretend you didn’t, moaning louder as a diversion. It’s fruitless, and apparently you aren’t a good actress. He yanks your hair and forces you to look at him. His fingers stop, and your body writhes from the loss. “Don’t do that again. Answer me.”

“S-Sukuna…” you fuss. The feeling of your building pleasure being torn away from you is making you stupid. It’s pathetic. And yet, in spite of how humiliating it is, you’re still rolling your hips in a bid to get the feeling back. His expression falters to one you can’t read. You think it’s annoyance, but it’s so detached and expressionless. You yelp as he withdraws his fingers completely, with no time to feel the loss when he grabs your face with his slick-coated hand.

“I want to know if you make your pretty pussy cum after a hard day at work.” he says calmly, a low rumble in his chest as the words roll plainly from his tongue. Your eye contact falters as you notice him pulling at his sweatpants in search of his aching length. “And I want you to show me how you touch her. So go on, answer my question.”

“I… I—” you stumble. You watch him intensely as he frees his throbbing cock. He wraps his fist around himself and lazily strokes. He still glares at your features. While you’re utterly captivated by his cock.

It looks so angry. Too pretty and perfect to be real, you think. But somehow, it is. You think he’d be better suited as a porn star than a criminal with an asset like that. He spends an extra second squeezing his length just below the tip when he strokes himself, it’s like he’s ringing all of the pre out that he can. It dribbles out of his slit, coating his tip the more he summons. It’s beguiling.

You suppose you hadn’t really had a chance to admire him back at the club. It was so heated and hasty. Now, it’s purposeful. You look at his face again when you realise this is what he wants. He wanted you to look at how he touches himself and how gorgeous his cock is. He wants you to see how big he is and how much he aches and throbs when he needs to be buried in a sweet little cunt.

He wants the memory of this to stain your mind.

“I d-don’t.” you confess. “Not much… I’m always tired. Busy.”

“Mhmm… I can tell.” he nods, his voice is somewhat sympathetic. “Come here, princess. Sit on it.”

His hand grips into your hip while he lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him, you don’t hesitate. You let him push you down, you eagerly suck him in. Your eyes roll back as you feel him swell through your walls. Even after taking him earlier, you’d forgotten how monstrous he feels inside. And this time, somehow, he feels bigger.

“Fu-uck,” you gasp as his tip immediately nudges at your sweet spot. You hold his shoulders and hope he’ll assist you. The thought of disappointing him makes you anxious. The idea of him knowing how inexperienced you really are makes you sick.

He throws his head back as your hole swallows him greedily. He looks at you through a heavy-lidded stare, and relief fills you as his hands grab the fat of your ass. You moan pathetically as he spreads them. But his ultimate goal is to bounce you on his cock. You feel weightless in his hands as he helps you. Each steep drop down onto his length makes your throat tight.

He's there.

You feel him there.

“Play with yourself, go on. Rub her f’me.” he says lethargically.

And your face feels like fire. The foreplay was gasoline and his command is a match. And yet, out of fear of him withholding pleasure from you again, you comply. Your hand slithers between your thighs and you do all you can to pretend you’re elsewhere.

You try and pretend you’re in your room, in your bed. What usually gets you going is a mildly heated scene from a movie or TV show. The sexual tension of an almost kiss makes your face flush, though a lot less than it is now. And you think it’s unbearable to witness sexual tension and not see any resolve, so you scamper to find a video online to suit your needs. Something quick and short as you reach into your nightstand to find your favourite toy.

The thought of being caught by your brother makes you sick so you have to be fast with it. The website you ordered it from assured the toy would be whisper quiet. And you can only hope it’s true. You don’t touch yourself, not without aid. And even then, it’s sparse. You haven’t rubbed your clit with your own fingers in years.

Years of being riled up and having a useless boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing lead you to finishing yourself off each and every time. And you knew, the moment you got a job and your own income, you’d buy yourself a vibrator.

It’s hard to pretend Sukuna isn’t here, though. It’s hard to pretend you’re in your room with Netflix playing quietly enough in the background it can still cover the sound of soft core moaning from your phone while you vibrate yourself to completion.

Because his cock fills your each and every thought. Every sense you possess is dominated by him. The feel of him stretching you out beyond your limit and repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. The sound of the sticky tacking of his length as he slams you up and down on his pulsing member.

Your vision alternates between his gorgeous gaze and the point where your bodies connect again and again. Your pussy gushes slick and the evidence of your prior combined coupling stains your inner thighs and his crotch.

The scent of your sex fills the car and the heat of your sweaty bodies exacerbates it. Your skin is damp, as is his. And it’s overwhelming. He groans into a chuckle as you moan louder and louder for him. If anyone happens to be awake at this ungodly hour, they’ll no doubt hear you. If anyone looks out of the window, they’ll see how the car rocks back and forth. It turns you on further. The tang of sweat and arousal filling the car. It makes you lightheaded.

“I can— fuck— c-can taste you, daddy…” you whine. He urges you to fall forward so he can kiss you. It forces you to take over, moving your hips on your own as you try and maintain your building pleasure. “You’re too big… can feel you in my throat, Sukuna… tastes so good.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” he smirks, kissing you again. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Not the good girl you pretend to be, hah?”

You nod, agreeing. He’s right, after all. You’re talking in a way you didn’t know you had in you. He takes over again, holding your rear so he can take full control of your body. He guides you repeatedly until your eyes cross from the pleasure. Your walls tighten, and your throat feels hoarse as you cry out for him.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, kid. Don’t be shy. Cum for daddy.” he encourages you.

You cry, at that. Falling forwards to envelop him in your arms as you come undone. He coos, sweetly, kissing your cheeks and licking away your tears. The feeling isn’t lost on you, the feeling of disgust. You’ve never felt happiness or value like you did just now. Realising how right he was about your issues and using them to subdue you.

Your pussy gushes and he moans further, chest roaring as he finally lets his sight drop to see what a pretty mess you’ve made of yourself.

Made of him.

Made for him.

He pushes his thumb into your clit and rubs quickly, further extending your pleasure through it all. You could just about cum again when you feel him shoot another load into you, his warmth filling your womb for the second time today. It makes you feel special. It makes you feel loved.

The very idea of it has you pushing yourself away from him desperately. But he holds you close. His moans are boisterous and uncaring. It’s loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you think. And at the very least, you’re sure Megumi will hear if he doesn’t have his headphones on.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor of the car as he fucks himself into you. He’s sure to empty every last drop into your cunt, his balls slap against your ass as he ploughs into you furiously.

And when he stops, you freeze. You feel cold. You feel filthy.

He doesn’t discard you or try to kick you out. The opposite, really. He’s still holding you close, lightly peppering your chilled skin with kisses. Eventually stopping to rest his head on your chest. He feels you try to move away, but he only holds you tighter.

So you stop trying to leave. And instead, you run your fingers through his hair. He hums contently, at that. And you feel your heart pound harder, a little smile works its way onto your face.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

That thought alone makes you stop. He looks up at you, his stare soft and gentle as he wonders what made you halt your actions so abruptly. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you move to leave.

“I have to go, I really have to go now.” you say bluntly. He huffs, watching as you scramble to put your clothes back in place, clambering off him in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything in response. He watches as you scramble to open the door. Tears of panic begin to fall as you struggle to open it, you frantically pull and push as you try to get away. He leans over, and with little effort, he opens the door for you.

“Goodbye.” he says, simply.

“G-Goodbye.” you respond, ducking out and briskly walking to your front door.

You take a deep breath when you get there, preparing for the possibility that Megumi is about to greet you and bite your head off. Sukuna doesn’t move. He stays in the back seat and watches you with a sombre expression. With no inclination of what happened to change your mood, he can only assume he stepped out of line.

He doesn’t want to leave just yet. At least not until he knows you’re safely inside.

As you grab the handle of the door and push, your heart sinks.

“No, no, no… d-don’t do this to me now.” you sob, hysterically fiddling and pushing the door. You stupidly think that you just need to try harder and it will open. But no such thing comes to pass. You’ve locked yourself out.

Sukuna sits upright when he realises, watching as you slowly turn to look at him. His hand folds, gesturing for you to come closer. And with no other option, you do. Your phone is inside as well as your car keys. You can’t text Megumi to tell him what you’ve done. And even if you could, he’d only come outside to see that you’ve let him down. Again.

“Silly girl.” he says, looking at you with a weak smile when you finally approach. You duck down to look at him, not willing to get inside with him. “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll bring you back in the morning.” he suggests.

“I’m not fucking—”

“You can stay in a different room.” he answers your obvious assumption with a reasonable response. And still…

“N-No. I don’t want to go to your house.”

“Then I guess we’re sleeping in the car. Come on.” he sighs. He waits until you get in, begrudgingly, and then gets out himself. You watch him as he circles to the trunk of his car, looking ahead at your home as you wait for him to return. And he does, with a large, fur blanket.

“Why do you have this?” you wonder.

“I don’t remember. You better not be complaining, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck off right after I came like I usually do. Especially after that little performance.”

“Performance?!” you yell. You position yourself as far away from him as you can in the confined space, sitting as closely to the door as you can. “You just don’t get it! At all.”

“You’ve made that clear, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll steer clear when you get back inside tomorrow. I’m too old to be playing stupid games with little girls who don’t know what they want.”

You huff, covering your legs with the blanket before folding your arms.

“I told you it was a mistake.” you correct him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you or do that again.”

“Shut up.” he shakes his head. “Just go to sleep and we’ll never have to see each other again. Because that’s what you want, yes?”

You pause before speaking. Images of his delicate expression in your arms haunt you. You’d overreacted because of your own cowardice. Because of a promise you evidently had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t a performance. It was just… fear.

“Yes.” you tell him. Your response is bold and scathing.

He doesn’t react, he merely shrugs, adjusting the blanket over his own legs, too. His arms cross over his chest, and his head rests against the window. You can’t see beyond his eye covering, but you assume his visible eye is closed.

You do the same, hoping you fall asleep sooner rather than later.

You’re wrong, though.

His eye is open wide, looking upwards to the light polluted sky. There are a few stars visible, three. He stares at them, thinking about the events of the evening. He hadn’t expected to end up fucking once tonight let alone twice. But when you walked into his club and tried to give him a piece of your mind, he knew.

He knew he’d have to have you.

And he hadn’t expected to be so lucky so have you again, like this. But he can’t put his finger on why things went so sour. It could be one thing or a number of things. He has ideas. He thinks your less complicated than you seem to think you are. You’re keeping him at arm’s length, and that, he understands.

He’s a stranger, but he doesn’t have to be.

He doesn’t want to be.

But what can he do?

He’ll just stare at the stars until he drifts off to sleep.

Maybe things will be different in the morning.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

chapter one | m.list (working on it) | chapter three

#🦋 — luxe writes #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw blood #tw daddy kink #tw size difference #tw age gap #tw degradation #tw dacryphilia

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐌𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 ♡

【Synopsis】 : After finding out those two devilishly handsome masked men were in fact your friends, how are you going to continue your friendship with them now that they want to fuck you stupid?

『Word count』 :  7.25k

-> Genre: Hardcore smut. Fluffy kinda.

Pairing: childhoodfriend!Sanhwa x Afab!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Clit play. Multiple orgasms. Unprotected sex. Breast play. Hickies. Biting. Pet names (doll, darling, sugarcube, bunny, good girl. Princess). Degrading (use of slut, whore and fucktoy). Photographs and videos taken during sex. Seonghwa has a tittie obsession... (whoops) Mentions of mxm and jerking off. Swearing. Heavy making out. Handjob. Use of the safe word. Ass play. Anal finger. Dirty talk. Messy sex. Manhandling. Threesome. Mention of fucking eight men at once (whoops). San and Seonghwa tagteam the reader. Face fucking. Oral. Mention of knocking reader up.

Network: @newworldnet ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Part One | Buy me a ko-fi

”Seonghwa!? San?!” You cried in confusion, only vaguely aware of the camera still recording your reaction. You were shocked by the sight of your friend’s handsome faces, their deep, almost pitch-black eyes, their full lips twisting up into a smug smirk. San and Seonghwa’s usually neat locks were now messy from the masks. Desire shot through your body, your pussy clamping down on San’s fingers like you didn’t want to let him go. In the next heartbeat, your friend shoved his three fingers ruthlessly into your cunt, his thumb circling your clit with the mission on getting you to your release. It was all too much. You’d already been dangling on the brink of your release and the shock of finding your friends beneath the Ghost face masks mixed with the pleasure they pitilessly delivered to your body, sent you flying over the edge. Your head thumped against the floor and your lips opened wide on a scream as you came all over San’s fingers while Seonghwa never stopped his assault on your breasts, leaving love bites in his wake.

“Good girl, being so fucking good for me, pretty thing,” San murmured as he fucked you through your orgasm, stretching his arm to take the phone from Seonghwa who didn’t unlatch his mouth from your skin. San widened his fingers even as your walls clamped down on him, making you stretch around him as he captured everything on the camera. “You’re doing so well, baby. Fuck look at you, clenching around my fingers like a good fucktoy.”

Lost to the feeling of your mind-blowing orgasm, all you could do was moan in response, feeling overly sensitive with Seonghwa still abusing your tits. You didn’t know if you liked San's dirty talk or his sweet words better and a small part of you worried they were both going to ruin you for all other men if they kept treating you like the most precious thing in the world and a filthy slut at the same time. “S-sannie… Hwa,” you murmured, hands finding Seonghwa’s chest and sliding up to push gently on his shoulders.

San must’ve understood what you meant because the bright light from the flash disappeared, and in the next moment, he was dropping your leg to the ground. It was now Seonghwa's turn to sit between your thighs, covering your body with his, making you hold in your breath. You couldn't help your heart from racing, trying to process the fact that your two friends—Kind, sweet, and caring Seonghwa and San— had been the two men under the masks all along. It almost somehow didn't feel real. You had known them for years after all, and you would have never thought they'd be like this. The fact that San had finger fucked you in your guy's old hangout while Seonghwa litter your chest with hickies just didn’t make sense.

"Oh my god..." You whispered in confusion against your hand as you pinched your brow. You had to push Seonghwa's chest so you could sit up away from them for a moment. Both of them carried a guarded expression, eyes wary. But there was a lustfulness still in their features. Something you’d never seen before in either of them. Something they managed to keep on a tight leash and buried so you would never see it. 

You didn’t have time to ponder how your friends were able to make your pussy throb with just a simple look as Seonghwa grabbed your hips, pulling you back down onto the soft cushioning. San snatched both your wrists, pinning them above your head with a proud smirk as you both watched Seonghwa grope a handful of your tits roughly, giving them a sloppy kiss.

"God these fucking tits. You are so perfect, Bunny." Seonghwa groan as he ducked back down to suck your right nipple harshly, "beautiful.." he murmured against your skin as if he was only talking to himself. Your hips bucked against his, seeking the friction your body so desperately craved. A whine breaks free from your lips, making your mind spin. You couldn’t believe how needy you were already, after the knee-shaking orgasm San had already given you prior, but you felt insatiable with your friend’s hands on your body.

"H-hwa, please." You had no real idea why you were begging, but you felt like you needed to nonetheless.

Seonghwa grinned against your chest, but San was the one to whisper in your ear, "You sound so fucking beautiful when you beg doll."

San seemed to be barely paying you any mind, his warm fingers sliding against your neck and along your arms slowly, like he was taking his time to explore your body, "You have no idea how long we've dreamt about you." he admitted, gaze now fixated on the way Seonghwa kissed down your chest towards your navel. "We'd lay awake and off jerk ourselves and each other to the thought of what it might feel like you fuck your sweet little cunt."

A growling roar ripped free from Seonghwa, the sound barely human, from the words his friend spilled. Seonghwa then moved swiftly, digging his arms under your back so he could hold you tight. You could feel the breath being forced from your lungs as he tugged you up until, in an instant, his lips found yours. This kiss was not the sweet gentle one you imagined Hwa would give you, no, this one was rough and filthy as he poured all his pent-up emotions from these months into you, shoving his tongue down your throat, taking what he deemed his. But you met him with equal neediness, using your hands that were now free to grab onto his messy hair, clinging to the soft strands like your life depended on it. Seonghwa trailed his lips down your jaw, then your neck, letting you draw in a shaky breath of air. He sucked on the skin of your collarbone, knowing he was going to leave more marks.

You twisted your fingers in his hair and clutched him close to your body, not wanting to let him get too far away, ever again. But you needed more. You needed all of him, both of them. You needed him to fill you up until he was leaking out of you and then San to do the same. “H-hwa, please—please,” you begged in a worn whisper.

San turned your face towards him by your chin, growling at the fucked out expression you bared. Seonghwa continued his assault on your skin while San leaned forward to steal a fierce kiss from you. His tongue swept into your mouth more gently than Seonghwa, groaning into you. You broke one hand free from Hwa’s hair to dig into San’s fluff to hold him close, but he wrenched himself away before you could get a tight enough hold on him. His face held a cheeky grin as you watched him stand up.

He eyed the way your legs your wrapped around Seonghwa as the man knelt in front of you, still attacking you with love bites. You watched intensely with your mouth slightly agape as San reached down to his belt buckle, pulling the leather free with one swift motion making your cunt throb against Seonghwa's thigh. He then pulled his zipper down slowly, teasingly. You were practically vibrating in anticipation against the older male, one from his lips still dotting on your skin and two for the performance the younger was gifting you. Finally, he reached into his jeans and pulled his cock free.

“Fuck.” You gasped at the sight of your friend’s cock. You had a feeling both boys were well off, but San was big. Your gasp made Seonghwa’s cock harden more against your core, twitching at the pretty sounds that left your lips. San’s cock was thick rather than long. His fingers barely met as he fisted it, stroking up the length in a slow motion. You could feel your pussy gush with even more wetness as you stared at San’s cock, eyeing the veins running up the length to a wide tip. 

“Like what you see?” Seonghwa asked you, letting you pull away from him so his face could meet you once again. A big grin painted his features. It was dark and lustful with a hint of curiosity. You nodded to his words, making him let out a simple hum, “You want to see mine?” 

“Yes please.” You said a little too quickly, but at this point, you no longer cared. Both men just chuckled at your eagerness as you pushed yourself back to give Seonghwa some room. San, in the meantime, walked back over to sit beside you, helping you undress completely, removing the awkward fabric that was pooled around your waist. Almost dazedly, you watched Seonghwa undress until his cock sprung free and unlike San, Seonghwa’s cock was long. You slowly reached forward without thinking, wanting to see how big he looked with your smaller hand wrapped around him.

But Seonghwa gently batted your hand away, before stroking his own cock. “Not now, bunny.” He chuckled before grabbing your hips, tugging you back against him. He and San helped to lay you back down softly, letting the older male hover above you, pressing his tip against your aching hole. You then eyed San as he leaned over to his nice pile of clothing, grabbing the phone he had recorded you on prior. He gave it to Seonghwa this time so he could capture a delicious shot of his cock resting on your pussy. He looked so fucking big against you, you had no idea how he was going to possibly fit but in the same thought, you needed to make him fit. You wanted him to. You wanted him to fuck you so hard you’d be screaming just like they had promised.

“H-hwa please, please.” You begged, needing him to put it in already. But yet he didn’t, he just held his one hand against your wriggling hips while he slid his hard tip length against your wet folds. San held down your shoulders, making sure you wouldn’t move. Seonghwa bit his lip as he got his full length soaked in your arousal before settling back down on his heels. You watched his whole body shiver as he stared at the phone screen, transfixed by the sight of his cock against your pussy, twitching slightly. He stopped recording, placing the phone down before gripping your hips tightly. 

”Do you have a condom bunny? You better give me one now.” He choked out feeling a sense of restlessness, his eyes wide filled with desire. It stole your breath, the way Seonghwa stared at you like you were his entire world. But you shook your head as you looked up at him with worry.

“I-I don’t have one,” You murmured, trying to look around the room in order to avoid his eye contact but ending up catching San’s instead. You hadn’t had anywhere to keep it in your dress, so you’d given your purse and phone to Mingi to hold onto. San’s eyes flicked to Seonghwa with a cheeky expression. You finally looked back at Hwa, noticing his gaze was flared with hunger but also with a hint of anger.

“What were you planning if you met someone tonight bunny?” He demanded in a venomous voice, “Would you have let some random fuck head touch you with his bare cock?” He stated, leaning over you so his face was hovering inches from your face. “Would you have let Mingi fuck you raw? Risk getting knocked up?”

Anger and a little bit of fear swirled in his dark brown eyes. His voice was shaky, almost like he was afraid, and the way he was looking at you, all you could think was that Seonghwa was incredibly handsome with fury contorting his features. How could something feral look so elegant? It suddenly occurred to you that even though these two were, in fact, your friends, you should be scared, no? You should use your safe word and explain yourself about leaving your stuff with Mingi.

But it was apparent how overwhelmed you had suddenly gotten for both men at this moment. your pussy practically leaking all over the floor. your lust for him consumed you as if it was holding your tongue. So all you could do was stare with wide doe eyes, dazed and innocent. When you didn’t respond or defend yourself, both men took this as a defeat on your part. San lightly tsking behind you while Seonghwa shook his head. He was trying his best to hold his anger, keep it in check with some visible effort, raking his hand through his hair, making his already messy locks messier, "So fucking irresponsible, Bunny.

"Well if our baby here was happy with the idea of getting fucked raw, you wouldn't mind if we do it, huh?" San smirked looking down at you with a slight head tilt. his gaze was intense reading your expression carefully, gauging your reaction to his words. "Cause if you're getting knocked up tonight, sugarcube, it's gonna be by us."

It felt like a jolt of electricity just surged through your body straight to your core as you clenched around nothing. You whined loudly at the San's words, showing just how much it affected you. you needed them both so badly that you finally found the courage to speak up, "Please, Seonghwa, please fuck me bare. I need it, I need you so badly." You were so desperate, tears were stinging your eyes and your hips were bucking up in the air making your soaked pussy slide against the tip of his cock.

For a moment, Seonghwa just stared at you, his hard jaw slack and his eyes dazed in the soft moonlight as if he was completely stunned by just how much you seemed to want the filth he offered. You indeed a minx underneath an innocent exterior. Tilting his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut for a second as the grip on your thighs tightened, threatening to leave bruises. The groan he let out almost sounded tortured. "Fuck, Bunny..."

It was San's turn to talk, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze, "Such a filthy fucking whore ain’t ya baby? You, really begging to be knocked up. So cute." His voice was dripping in eagerness, making your heart beat wildly. Seonghwa fisted his cock in one hand, lining it up at your entrance and teasing you by pushing the rounded tip against your little hole. 

“Is that what you want, want to be ours?” he asked, a feral grin curling the edges of his mouth as he caught your eye. Still holding your gaze captive with his own, he brought his thick cock down on your clit, giving it a hard smack and making you jerk as pleasure and a tiny bit of pain surged through you. San used this moment to tug your hand towards his cock, letting you wrap your hand around the thick appendage.

You squeezed, causing San to let out a stagnant hiccup. Seonghwa took this moment while your focus was on the other man to press his cock against you, pushing until the cock head slipped inside your dripping cunt. Your walls clenched around him quickly, drawing a ragged moan from both of you, “Fuck we are never gonna let you go after this Bunny,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he slowly pushed deeper, making you take inch after inch of his thick cock.

"Fuck, you're so b-big Hwa." You babbled out staring up into Seonghwa’s dark eye. His expression contorted in determination and you cried out when he shoved the last few inches of his cock into your pussy in one fatal swoop.

“We are the only ones allowed to fuck you, Bunny. You hear, you're mine.” He growled in your ear, not giving you any time to adjust to the feeling of him but luckily from your previous high, you were wet enough that he slipped in and out with ease. San bit the other ear whining as he felt your hand move in time to Seonghwa's thrusts. "No one fucks you without our permission..."

“We are gonna make you our pretty little whore? You want that baby, to be our cock sleeve?” San emphasized every word in the last question as Seonghwa thrusted roughly into you making your tits bounce. You squirm, writhing but San just pined your shoulders down while Seonghwa pinned your hips. Your thighs started to ache as they were spread wide, riding up the side of Seonghwa’s waist while you tried to cling to Sans's biceps. You felt so ruined, so used, and they’d barely even fucked up yet. 

“Please, sir. Yes, please. Only for you two,” You cried out a little too easily, coming to terms no one would fuck you the way your friends could. “Do whatever you want with me. I’m yours, all of me. Have me as you please. Just please fuck me harder.” You became a blabbering mess, tears streaming down your face from frustration and desperation. A simple pleased grin painted Seonghwa’s angelic features. He then suddenly kissed you, sweeping his tongue in your mouth with such possessiveness it made you melt into him. When he pulled away, he dropped a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth and it was then when you only realized you were smiling, brightly… Happily

Seonghwa sat up slightly again, looking over to San, who looked pleadingly as if he was being left out. The older male just smiled, pulling the younger by his thigh to bring him closer, letting Seonghwa wrap his hand around your smaller one that still slowly tugged on San’s cock. A moan left all of your lips as Seonghwa began to thrust against but in time with the pumps he gave San. “That’s it. Stroke him like this bunny. Be a good little slut and help our Sannie out.”

The nickname he gave his friend sent your body into a dizzy haze, simply nodding at his words in agreement. Seonghwa sat up, letting go of San so you could continue before he swiped the phone from the ground. He held the device above your bodies angling it to get all of the action in one shot. For a moment you wondered why the flash didn’t turn on but simply just clicked once, it was then you realized he took a photo. He threw his head back for a moment, basking in the way he could feel your body react to every thrust he gave you. “Here Sannie, wanna go?”

Your friend pulled his cock out ever so slowly, dragging his thick length against your abused folds, making you feel every single inch of him. You shivered suddenly, one from the loss of body heat and two from being stuffed full. But before you could protest to anything, San gently tugged your hand off him before getting up, walking off towards the door. This gave you a perfect view of his plump ass. Without warning, Seonghwa thrusted back inside you filling you up with a quick, brutal stroke, completely pulling your mind from the tall drink of water back to him. Your spine curved and your eyes rolled back, while your lips parted with a sharp ‘fuck’. “Eyes on me princess I’m still the one fucking you.”

The sharpness in Seonghwa’s voice got you spinning. So he was possessive even when he shares, noted. You thought, but before you could say anything to him, you noticed San had returned with some pillows. Fresh clean ones? He must have parked his trucks near and the fucker just walked outside butt naked to grab pillows. Seonghwa moved over, pulling out of you quicker than you could comprehend before San took his place between your shaky thighs... The younger male then lifted your hips with the strength you had no idea he possessed, placing a folded pillow under you. Seonghwa had taken San’s old spot but this time he was stroking his own cock, telling you to focus on the other man in the room.

You watched intensely as San brought his thick girthy cock to your wet hole. Once you were settled and San started to push his way into the point you felt nicely stuffed from his giant cock, you felt him place a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge poking out. “Fuck Doll, If I knew you felt this good, I would have fucked you sooner.” He moaned shaking at the way your walls clenched around him. Your hazy gaze noticed a flash from a camera again, taking another photo of you, and another from another angle.

“See how petty you look all stretched out and stuffed full of San’s cock. Seonghwa growled, turning the phone so you could see the photo he had taken.

There you were, and you looked positively ruined. Your legs were spread wide and forced open around San’s strong thighs and hands, your pussy wrapped tightly around his thick cock. Hwa had caught you at the perfect moment and your body was arched up with your tits on full display and nipples peaked tight. But it was your face that had conveyed how much pleasure you were in at that moment, a pout in your bottom lip and eyes rolled back in your head so only the whites were visible. It was easily the most filthy photo that had ever seen of yourself. And you couldn’t help but admit it, but you loved it… Your eyes stared at the image greedily as your pussy gushed with more arousal tightening around San.

You almost whine when Seonghwa turns the phone away from you. It was too soon, you hadn’t finished examining every detail yet. But your focus landed on San, seeing hunger dressed with dark eyes as he gazed at the photo Seonghwa was showing him. They both loved the image just as much as you did, maybe even more…”You look so hot baby, like the perfect little cock sleeve.”… Definitely more.

San’s eyes suddenly snapped to Hwa’s taking out a short breath as he kept slowly fucking you with deep, sensual strokes of his hips. Hwa’s brows were raised in response to the other male, almost as if he was considering something. You squirmed, wanting to be in on the thought, but also wanting to be fucked harder. “Should I send this to Mingi?” Seonghwa chuckled watching intensely as your expression changed from blissed out to pure shock.

Out of all the fucking thing’s this wild card of a man could say, that wasn’t something you thought you’d ever leave his lips. Since practically being fucked beyond your freakiest dreams, you had completely forgotten about Mingi. You felt guilt riddled through your heightened body, feeling a little ashamed at how you whined as soon as he spoke. “He told us how needy you seemed when you saw him tonight, almost giving him a few kisses in the kitchen.”

Seonghwa’s words were cruelly calm, like he was just having a simple conversation. For someone who had possession in his veins, you expected him to be angry, jealous… but he almost seemed amused. San snapped his hips, bringing your attention back to him. He must have sensed the confusion in your eyes because his grin explained everything, “We know how he looks at you, Doll. They all do. They would all love to get inside your pretty cunt here…” San placed his hand over your pelvis, the gesture dominant, and asserting. “Even your best friend Yunho…”

“But none of them would dream of touching you. Not until we say so...” You shivered at the certainty in San’s voice, goosebumps rising all over your skin at the sheer thought in his words. Not only had he and Seonghwa both talked about how much they wanted to fuck you, but All of them had wanted you enough that San and Seonghwa had laid claim to you first before any of them so much as looked in your direction. It was at that moment you realized this was far more than a one-night stand to both men, and you immediately felt relieved. If he was telling your friends to back off, then they both definitely wanted more than a hookup, and that made your heart ach in pleasure.

Seonghwa was grinning down at you as he watched you process what San had told you, going on when it seemed he had your attention again. “Mingi and the others were even nice enough to help us set all this up,” Seonghwa explained. “I think they deserve a little thank you for their hard work, no?” There was a teasing curve to Seonghwa’s lips as if he didn’t expect you to agree.

For how long you've been friends with all these men, they certainly did not know you as much as they thought. Seonghwa's suggestion... Not only did it make you burn with need but the sheer idea of him and San showing off to your friends with photos of you being fucked out on San's cock was even better, "Do it." you said with desperation, staring Seonghwa dead in the eyes. "My body is yours to do what you want. please, please share it if you want to."

Both men's faces went slack with surprise, making them both freeze and San slowing his thrusts. San's body was still except for his eyes, which raced around your expression that was still glued to Seonghwa. He was trying to see if you were really serious or not, but after a moment, he spoke up, making both you and Hwa look in his direction. "Remind me of your safe word, darling." 

You sat slowly up on his elbows, tilting your head so it was inches from San before whispering with a smirk, “Purple.” Then slipping your lips on his. You felt him groan in your mouth, snaking his hand on the back of your neck. You felt Seonghwa shift before walking off somewhere else in the room, almost drawing your attention away.

But when he pulled away, he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to yours and looking you in the eyes. “You can use that word at any time,” he reminded you. “If you don’t like something we say or something we’re going to do, you have to promise me you’ll use it."

You hum with a bright smile, “I’m not gonna use it, Sannie. I trust both of you.” When you lifted up, trying to capture his lips in another kiss, he backed off, and you whined softly, falling back onto the soft cushions. “Fuck, just send the photo to the others already…” you muttered dramatically. “I want you to….” you groaned, your pussy clenching down on his thick length at the dirty thoughts swirling in your mind.

San started to rut his hips into you without a second thought, living in the feeling of your warm cunt. But he shook the thought, gritting his teeth while forcing himself to stop his hips, and then he heard a whistle. “Hey, here.”

San gave Seonghwa a mouth pop, pulling out of you entirely, making you gasp at the sudden empty feeling. he chuckled before standing up, letting you see him in all his glory. “You’re not thinking properly…” He accused a little too harshly, watching you twist yourself until you sat on your knees in front of him, licking your lips. Before you could latch your grippers on his cock, he grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together, tugging your face up to look at him in the eyes. “You’re thinking with your cunt, love.”

He helped you up, with Seonghwa suddenly standing behind you, sandwiching you between both men. You turned around to face Hwa this time, snaking your hands along his chest, kissing his neck. “How is this any different to you two wanting to fuck me raw hmm?” You whispered against Seonghwa’s soft skin, letting him grip your hips, and basked in the kisses you were littering on him. You were starting to get frustrated with every moment spent with neither of them fucking you. “Sending a pic to the boys seems less risky if you think about it now huh?”

San just rolled his eyes, walking over to where Seonghwa was before. Hwa, on the other hand, took this moment to capture your wandering lips while slowly walking you backwards towards the table, and Seonghwa had laid blankets over. Your knees hit the edge of the wood, making you break the kiss. Hwa helped you put onto the piece of furniture, laying you down gently. You looked up and saw Seonghwa between your legs and San with an irritated yet lustful expression, staring down at you dominantly. “You think, we’d actually risk knocking you up?”

He didn’t give you any time to reply before he continued, “I know you’re on birth control ‘cause I heard you complaining about it to Yunho.” He was now inches from your face, his breath tickling your cheeks as he also held your shoulders down. “You also slipped up and said that you would never fuck someone raw when we were all drunk the other night while playing truth or dare.” his dark eyes were wild with frustration, “We are your friends…We do listen.”

Tears swam in your eyes at the realization that the two men you had been fearing didn’t like you back and had been listening to you more closely than you realized. When you grabbed his face and pulled him down for a fierce kiss, he let you. He let you lead for a moment before he took over, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and tangling with yours at the same time Seonghwa began to slip inside your waiting pussy, rolling his hips against you. You moaned into San’s mouth, wrenching away to pant out the feeling of Hwa’s thick cock stretching you once again. “H-hwa!” you cried on a gasp.

Seonghwa leaned down to kiss your chest, thrusting into you at a slow, steady pace. San pecked your cheek before grabbing the phone he had been using this whole night. He clicked his tongue before slyly holding it up to your face, whispering. “Look at the phone sugarcube.” When you did the screen, lit up before the phone unlocked. San chuckled at your confused expression at the thought he somehow managed to add your face ID to his phone, but when you saw the home screen, you realized it was, in fact, your phone. These two men had been using your phone this entire time, recording your body on your own camera. That meant that if these two wanted to send or see these videos and photos again, you would have to send it to them. Your jaw dropped a little at the realization, your heartwarming and tightness tingled in your chest.

San didn’t seem to notice your reaction as he scrolled through your camera roll. Your hands gripped the sides of the table as you moaned Seonghwa’s name on repeat. Seonghwa latched his plump lips on your nipple, hiking your left leg over his shoulder to fuck you at a rougher angle. “I’m gonna send this photo to myself so I can make it my background.” He bit his lip checking out a photo of you with Seonghwa’s cock deep inside your throbbing pussy. He would never admit it but the sight of Seonghwa fucking you made him go wild. 

“We’ll talk about the others later,” he promised, before tossing the phone down on the blanketed table next to you and tugging you upwards so your head dangled over the table slightly so he could mouth your cute mouth. You whined, parting your lips willingly so you could let him sink his cock into your mouth inch by inch. You hollowed your cheeks and took a deep breath while you clung to his thick thighs as he started moving.

His hips gave a short thrust as all three of you groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good on my cock, Doll,” San muttered, his hands holding the side of your face while Seonghwa gripped your ass cheek with one hand and your breast in the other.“ So fucking tight and perfect—like you were made to take my cock.” 

“You’re much to talk, this cunt is the best I’ve ever had. So fucking warm. I could sit in it forever.” Seonghwa kneaded your ass as his hips jackhammered into you. He grunted against your tits focusing on your pussy clenching around him. Then you suddenly felt his finger press against the tight hole of your ass, making you jerk a little, gagging on Sans's cock. “You gonna let us fuck this ass one day, Bunny? I bet Yunho would love the feeling of it. Mingi and him love to tag team you know.”

You moaned around San, bucking your hips in a silent plea at Seonghwa’s filth words. A dark chuckle is all the older male could rumble up mixing with the sounds of pure sin as he pulls his finger away from your ass to coat it in his own saliva before placing it right back where it was, slowly pushing on your tight hole. what was worse was that your senses have now become heightened over your vision being taken away from the angle you lay in. You feel him push again on your puckered hole before his tip breached it, making you swallow thickly. San shivered at the feeling, making him whine out, “And to think, you were scared we wouldn’t have been able to fuck you like the whore you so desperately want to be.”

“Hgnm?” you mumbled against his cock. For one second, you wondered if he’d somehow read your thoughts. The way both men had read your body all night and given you exactly what you needed made it seem possible… You started worrying you had accidentally spoken out loud at some point, but it turned out it wasn’t either of those things.

“We heard you, Bunny” Seonghwa bit out in a choked tone, frustration lacing his deep voice at himself as he felt himself nearing his climax... “We heard you talking to Yunho and Woo when you were at our place last week,” he explained. “You told them..fuck.. you thought we weren’t cut out to fuck you properly, but I knew you were wrong.” He punctuated his last word by thrusting deep inside your pussy, making you cry out and jerk backwards against San. San held you still against him with a firm grip, driving himself so deep you could feel him go down your throat. You felt so ashamed… of course they overheard you, you hadn’t been as sneaky as you thought. But then again, deep down you had hoped they heard. And it turned out it had worked, it’d just taken them a little longer—and a pair of hot Halloween masks—to prove you wrong. With Seonghwa’s finger still in your ass, his cock driving harshly into your cunt and San deep down your throat, you were completely at their mercy, and it felt fucking heavenly. All you could do was lay there and take it while listening to their filthy words, and what he said next only drove your need to new heights.

“we’ve been such good friends to you, bunny, I think we deserve a little thank you don’t you?” he growled, shoving his big dick into your abused hole with a particularly rough thrust, making you shriek at the pleasure and pain around San’s cock. “Look at you,” he practically cooed. “spread out for us, taking my cock and finger in these tight little holes while your mouth is stuffed to the brim with Sannies cock…” he said, pulling his finger out and shoving it deep at the same time he thrust his cock inside. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your jaw went slack on a strangled scream. “And you’re enjoying it just as much as I am, like a good little slut.” He repeated the movements driving you wild with the sensations. “our good little fucktoy.”

Both men were breathing heavily as their paces quickened. You didn’t know how much longer you could last, as they were pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every thrust of their hips. “Such a good girl.. fuck hngg..” San praises, throwing his head back at the feeling of you swallowing around his shaft. They both drilled their cocks into fast and rough while Seonghwa kept his finger lodged deep in your ass. “You’re ours and we can do whatever we want with your delicious holes okay Darling? Maybe even share you with the others… but not until we get out fill.”

The thought of the other fucking you at the same time nearly pushed you over the edge, but you held off, wanting to last as long as possible. You felt so good, you just wanted it to last forever. You were so close, you were pretty sure you’d agree to anything because everything either of them said sounded good to you. “gonna let all eight of us fuck you at once bunny?” you cried out around San feeling tears pour out of your bloodshot eyes.

“Rub your clit,” San ordered in a jagged tone. “Rub your little clit so Seonghwa can feel you come all over his cock like the filthy fucking slut you are and I can come down this fucking throat of yours..”

Immediately, you let go of the table, eagerly sliding it to your front to do as San said. You pressed tight little circles into your bud and, with how close you already were, it didn’t take long for the pleasure to push you right over the edge to your release. But it wasn’t until Seonghwa growled out his next words that you truly let go and fell. “Come around me Bunny baby. Come for us.” His voice was low and sweet, with a hint of desperation that almost made it sound like he was begging. It was that thrum of neediness in your friend’s voice that made you let go…

You could feel your orgasm swell like a tidal wave inside you and, for just a second, you worried about the devastation it would have on your body, heart and soul. Then, with one last driving thrust of Seonghwa and San’s cock’s, they too tipped over the edge. You came with a scream, the sound piercingly loud and gargled around San. The pleasure swept over you, wiping away everything else until you didn’t know where you ended and they began. For a brief moment, it felt like you were floating on a cloud.. a million miles away from your body. Weightless and surrounded by warmth and comfort. But then you crashed back into your body and you knew you’d never be the same, your arms and legs shaking hard as wave after wave of pleasure flowed through your limbs like sparks of electricity.

Seonghwa let out a sound that was so animalistic, you didn’t know if you could call it a groan, but it was so dirty, it made your pussy clench down on his cock. Then you could feel his dick twitch deep inside you as his load began to spill into you and fill you with warmth. San came quickly after, emptying himself down your throat, letting you slowly swallow every drop he gave you. For a moment, you and the two men just hung suspended together in your pleasure, riding out your orgasms together while Seonghwa watched his come leak from your pussy and drip down to the blankets beneath you.

Gently, Seonghwa detangled himself from you, guiding your leg slowly off his shoulder and onto the blanketed table while San pulled out of you and helped you lay your head on the oak furniture, giving you space to breathe. With the same tender care, Seonghwa eased his finger from your tight ass and pulled his cock out of your still-fluttering pussy. Seonghwa then slowly pulled up to sit up so he could wrap his arms around you, gathering you against his chest. You curled up in his arms quickly, letting him stand securely between your aching thighs. He held you tightly as you both calmed down. You felt San’s hand firmly on your back as he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. And as much as both men your comforting you, you couldn’t relax, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt of all that had just happened and what had been said during this whole situation…” San..Hwa..”

With your face tucked in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, you couldn’t see either of their faces, so you didn’t know exactly what their expressions were but a simple ‘hmm’ got you suddenly anxious. But you still pushed through, “We’re not just friends anymore…w-what are we?”

Seonghwa squeezed you tight with his arms, his face buried in your neck. While San just chuckled patting your head, taking you and Seonghwa in his arms... “Fuck, Darling,” he mumbled on a deep exhale, “I’m trying really hard not to beg you to marry us over here.”

Your heart surged with happiness and you giggled, the sound light as air. “I might say yes,” you whispered, your hand clinging to Hwa’s arm and reaching to find Sans too. Neither of them tried to pull away, both only pressed close, groaning loudly like you were killing them. 

“Don’t fucking say that if you don’t mean it, Bunny,” Seonghwa warned. Laughing so much your shoulders shook, you could feel the answering smile on Seonghwa’s lips when he pressed a kiss to your neck.

You pulled away, letting both men stand up properly to gaze at you. You kissed both of them. San first and Seonghwa. It was slow and sweet. But when you went back for another one with San you could feel it slowly turn as he licked your lips so his tongue you slip into your mouth. He kissed you possessively as Seonghwa bit softly on your collarbone. It left you gasping for air as you whispered against your friend’s lips. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

San smiled against your lips before pulling back away from you, loving filling in his expression. “Doll, we’ve been yours since the first day we met in high school.” He sighed heavily. “I liked being your friend. It would’ve been enough for us, really, but we had to know.. we had to know if we had a chance..”

After a little while, the happy little bubble you and the two boys had created started to bring in the cool night air, making you shiver hard in Seonghwa’s arms. San dropped a kiss to the crown of your head, and then he was quickly grabbed clothes that lay in disarray about the clubhouse. Seonghwa wrapped you in the blanket you were on, pulling it tight around your shoulders and letting it hang down to your feet. San typed out a quick text to the group chat. The boys and you were all in saying you were fine and that they were going to head back to your place. And before any of them could even respond, San promised to fill them in later, then shut the phone off...

-

Special tags for those who asked for a part two ♡: @mingis-prince @yuyubeans @kpetts @mitchko11 @spenceatiny18 @atinymonbebestay @acetruepunk

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