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#this turned my day upside down in the best way possible
urhoneycombwitch · 2 months
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I know what they call you.
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🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.
🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin
wc: 11k 
cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)
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foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.
Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!
___
It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.
You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.
“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”
Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”
You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”
She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”
Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 
So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.
Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.
Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.
If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).
Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 
“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.
“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 
When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”
“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 
Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”
What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 
So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.
You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?
With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.
The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.
“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”
The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.
Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 
“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”
“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”
Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”
You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”
He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.
“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”
“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.
You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 
Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.
You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”
You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”
“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.
You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 
Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”
Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.
He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”
Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 
Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.
The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”
“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.
“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.
“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”
“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.
He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”
“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”
As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.
“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”
“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”
The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”
“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 
Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”
He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 
You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 
___
You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.
The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.
You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.
When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.
While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.
Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”
“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”
You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”
“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.
The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.
“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”
“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.
It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”
Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”
Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 
You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 
You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.
You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 
Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.
You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.
“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”
“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”
You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.
Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 
Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”
You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”
His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”
That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.
Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.
Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”
Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”
“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 
Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”
“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.
He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”
Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”
That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”
Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”
Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”
Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.
Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”
“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.
Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”
Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 
Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.
“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”
You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 
“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.
“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 
“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”
“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.
“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”
“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”
Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”
“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.
Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”
Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 
“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.
“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”
“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”
Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”
You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.
“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”
“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”
A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”
“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”
You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.
But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 
“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”
“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”
Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.
You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 
____
Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.
You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 
Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.
Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference
“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 
“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.
You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.
But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 
Or weed. That tends to work, too.
You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.
He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”
“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”
When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.
“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.
“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.
“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”
“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”
When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.
“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.
His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 
“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”
“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”
His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”
This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.
He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 
A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 
You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.
“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.
“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”
You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 
“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.
His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”
Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.
“Got a light?”
You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.
Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.
Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 
He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”
“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”
He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”
His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.
Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”
Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.
“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”
“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.
“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”
“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 
Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”
This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.
“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”
The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”
Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 
“I know what they call you.”
Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”
It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.
Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.
You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”
His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.
With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”
“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 
He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”
You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.
Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.
Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.
If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.
In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.
There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.
Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 
By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.
“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”
The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.
When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”
Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.
___
So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 
Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 
While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.
Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 
You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.
By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.
He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 
Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.
He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.
“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.
You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”
That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”
A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.
“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 
When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.
“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”
There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.
He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.
“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”
He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”
And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.
Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”
You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 
“Yeah?”
When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 
Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.
“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.
Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 
Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.
“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 
When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”
A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.
“I want to hear you say it.”
The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 
You say it. “I want your mouth.”
Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.
“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.
You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”
He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.
You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 
“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 
“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 
“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.
And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.
It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 
There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.
It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.
Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 
You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.
Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 
When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”
You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.
“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”
Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”
Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.
“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”
His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.
The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.
“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”
You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.
Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.
The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 
“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”
In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.
You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.
“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”
Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.
Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.
That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.
You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.
The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.
When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.
You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.
Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.
There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.
As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”
You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.
His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 
“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.
“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”
“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.
Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 
“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 
When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.
Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.
He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 
“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.
It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 
But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.
You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 
You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.
“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”
Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”
“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”
You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 
“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”
From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”
He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”
________
Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.
You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 
There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.
“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”
“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.
Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 
You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”
She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.
Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”
“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.
“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”
Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.
Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”
“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 
___________________
I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao
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Text
Call me?
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Pairing: Chan x Fem!reader
Word Count: 1.1k lol
Summary: video calls are simple and mandatory when Chan's away for long periods of time, and more often than not you're laying naked, writhing on your sheets just because of your boyfriend's guidance.
Warnings/Tags: phone sex cause I can, mutual masturbation, guidance, pet names (baby girl cause I actually love that pet name, baby, my love etc), stepping out of your comfort zone but Chan is there for you!
A/N: I've always wanted to do something like this, so I finally just decided to do it - unplanned and unedited.
© smuttystraykidsthoughts - do not repost, copy or translate without consent.
SMUT WARNING MDNI
"C'mon baby, please?" Chan's voice is hopeful, supportive, eager.
"I've seen her before! Please?" This time he's suggestive before falling back into a plea. He knows you need more convincing.
You scoff, her. As if your genitals have pronouns of their own. It's no surprise though, Chan's always talking of your body parts as though they aren't attached or part of your whole existence.
"Baby? I miss you," It's strange how quickly his voice changes, as if he's using all possible methods by changing tones and pitches, anything that'll make you finally give in.
You stare at him with a grin, your arm already aching from being on a video call for the last two hours. He's away for tour preparation again, and even though he usually stuck to being away for a few days at a time, this specific occasion had been drawn out far longer than it needed to be and Chan has been gone for two weeks already.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss your boyfriend tremendously.
"I'm shy Chan," You awkwardly admit, your fingers not halting in their continuous, slow, circular motions where your right hand is hidden between your legs.
"Why? I've seen you before, many times actually."
It was kind of cute that he was this eager, he wasn't brushing it off like anything else you were hesitant to reveal, and although you'd had phone sex before, it didn't change your annoyingly high sense of self-consciousness.
"Still," You stick firm to your word, trying your best to focus on what he says as he goes on to explaining how it'll help you to get out of your comfort zone a little bit.
"Please babygirl, I miss you so much. Fuck I can't handle the distance anymore I just," He huffs, pouting frustratedly, "I'm always so turned on by you, always ready. Just wanna see my pretty girl, please?"
He had you at your absolute favourite pet name, and you exhale before lifting your hand and adjusting your phone upside down so that the camera won't be blocked by your hand.
"Fine, but don't laugh, okay?"
He chuckles, knowing best than to argue any further - you're already stepping out of your comfort zone, he best not make you want to climb back in.
You don't feel forced though, there's absolutely nothing he could do to force you anyway, secretly, you do want to show him.
It turns you on how eager he is, how excited he is and the little sparkle in his eyes that shine a little brighter when you agree doesn't go unnoticed either. You have all the power in your hands already, you just need to trust him with it, and you do.
"Oh baby," He breathes, and you glance down just to catch site of his brows furrowing in wonder, "Go closer for me sweetheart, please."
You angle your hand for a better view, hearing his appreciative sigh that tells you you've got the right angle this time.
"Fuck babygirl look at you, you're dripping holy shit."
You can't see him that well, the angle of your phone as well as the majority of your hand that covers the screen prevents you from seeing much of Chan, but you can hear him.
"It's okay baby, play with yourself. Show me how you like it."
You're quickly a little puddle of whimpers and mewls that echo in your bedroom. Something about the way he stutters or a moan slips out when you do something he didn't ask for, as if you're showing off for him, has you feeling more confident with each second.
Chan guides you through touching yourself, instructing you when to draw circles and when to use up and down strokes, he tells you how fast and when to slow down.
"God you're so fucking beautiful, look at that, you're so perfect my love," He praises, and despite being nervous to let him watch you, you're actually enjoying this just as much as he is, probably because he's enjoying it that much.
" 'm stroking for you too baby, got me so hard already just watching you. I wanna go down on you so fucking bad," He whines with his last few words, you know he's got an oral fixation, and you know that when he sees you like this it's even more difficult for him to be far away from you.
"I'd let you baby," You breathe back, catching a glimpse of his arm moving rapidly in the corner of the screen.
"Yeah? You'd met me taste you baby? Let me- jesus, fuck - let me taste you every day?"
"Yes, yes of c-course," You feel yourself struggling to form the right words, mind beginning to go blank.
"Ah! Th-thank you baby, thank you for letting me. Can you dip your fingers inside for me?" His own voice deceives him and cracks with desperation at times, the movements of his arm causing his voice to be unsteady as it is.
You stop your movements, allowing your middle and third fingers to dip inside of you, appreciating the beautiful effects he has on you and that your movements now have on him too.
"Oohh my god, yes fuck look at you, you're drenched baby, so wet just f'me?"
"Just for you," You confirm, carefully rubbing your clit with the palm of your hand that bumps with each thrust of your fingers. The sounds are borderline pornographic, they're filthy and sinful but oh just so delightful.
"B-baby? My love, I'm gonna cum, I can fe-uh-el it, will you cum with me?" His eyes are focused on your slick folds, the way our fingers glisten in the yellow bedside light, the way your body sucks your fingers in as if they're not all part of you, he's aching just to touch you.
His desperation has you building rapidly, climbing higher each second, and you muster nothing more than a weak mhm before your toes begin to curl, your thighs tensing and your muscles pulling tight around your fingers.
"Yes! God yes, yes fuck I'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming with you," He trails off and as you glance down you get to see his head falling back as he shudders with a groan.
You both take a second to breathe like humans again, and you finally bring the camera up to your face again, Chan's eyes still shut and fluttering beneath his eyelids.
"I should've recorded that as a private show, fuck I didn't think of that."
You chuckle at his evident frustration, "Well when you come home, you can just have as many private shows as you want in person."
His eyes light up at that, smiling brightly as you watch him relax against the pillows, "You'll need hands on guidance though right?"
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thvhoe · 1 year
Text
Fight Or Flight | JJK
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Pairing: Boxer!Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader
Genre: Best friends brother AU, BFB To Lovers, Fighter AU
Word count: 18k
Synopsis:
You want to disappear and sink into the ground—we're talking code red.
As a result of the horrible events of accidentally sending your nudes to your best friend's brother, your life appears to change drastically.
Beautiful, arrogant, and quickly developing into a star fighter—many factors should prevent you from falling for Jeon Jungkook.
For years, you've kept your feelings for him a secret. Yet, ever since he has seen you in your underwear, it can become difficult to conceal your emotions when you see him practically daily.
A/n:
I finally did it! After days of writing late into the night, countless cups of coffee, and far too many rewrites to count. There were times when the plot refused to come together, the characters weren't cooperating, and I thought this story would remain forever unfinished.
Important! Please make sure to leave feedback, whether it's a comment or ask. It really helps me stay motivated.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your love and enthusiasm for my silly little stories. Here's to the next adventure!
You had never expected a simple mistake to turn your life upside down.
It all started when you were trying to send a sexy picture to your best friend, as one does, but instead, you accidentally sent it to Jeon Jungkook, your best friend's brother.
Your heart sank the moment you realized what had happened, and you immediately tried to take it back, but it was too late. You had already sent Jungkook a nude picture of yourself.
There's nothing quite like that feeling of confidence and sexiness. It's a feeling that can be difficult to describe. When you feel good about yourself, you exude a certain energy that is contagious to those around you.
Taking a nude can be a powerful way to capture that feeling of confidence and self-love, whether it's a quick snap in the mirror or a carefully curated shot.
So when you sent Jungkook that pic; boobs out on display and only a pair of panties covering your privates, yeah, it was bad.
You and Jungkook were never close, but because of your friendship with Yeji, you saw him pretty much every day.
There was just something intriguing about the guy. Of course, he was handsome. But furthermore, there was a certain charm and arrogance to him in the best way possible.
You were just a normal college girl, but that doesn't mean your life was uneventful or uninteresting. In fact, you were very involved in a number of extracurricular activities, including volunteering at a local animal shelter every other weekend.
While you may not have been at the top of your class, you still had a deep love for learning and becoming successful.
Aspiring to be an architect like your dad was an obvious choice for you, given his talent and passion for the field, but you also had a keen interest in architecture overall. Your college years were a time of growth for sure.
Jungkook had always been a fighter at heart, and boxing was his passion. He trained tirelessly every day, pushing himself to the limit to become the best he could be. His hard work and dedication were beginning to pay off, as he quickly rose through the ranks to become one of the top boxers in all of South Korea.
From the moment you first saw him, you knew there was something special about Jungkook. Whether it was his good looks or his determination, he had a way of drawing people to him and you found yourself captivated by his every move. It was a way of life.
Jeon Jungkook lived and breathed boxing.
He was a beautiful man, with his sharp jawline and piercing gaze. Jungkook was arrogant, but he had good reason to be—he was developing into a star fighter, and his talent was undeniable. You had always admired him from afar, but you never thought you would be in this situation.
.
You stare at your phone in horror, fingers trembling. The little 'delivered' text under the message mocks you, confirming your worst fear: you've sent Jeon Jungkook, your best friend's brother, a nude.
You feel your face starting to burn with embarrassment, your mind racing as you struggle to think of what to do next. In a moment of desperation, you quickly dial your best friend's number. As the phone rings on the other end, you try to steady your breathing and prepare yourself for the conversation ahead.
Finally, Yeji answers, and you launch into a detailed explanation of everything that has happened.
"I accidentally sent Jungkook a nude!" You blurt out as soon as she picks up.
"Oh my god," Yeji gasps. You can picture her eyes widening in shock.
"Jungkook as in my brother?! That's disgusting!" Yeji fakes a gag. "Did he say anything?"
You groan, dragging a hand down your face. "I just sent it! I don't know, he hasn't replied yet."
"Okay, stay calm," she says, though her voice is shaking. "It was an accident, right? I'm sure he'll understand. Maybe it got lost in the internet or something."
Her reassurance does little to slow your racing heart. How could you have been so stupid? All these years you've kept your feelings for Jungkook locked away, and one absentminded slip of the finger could ruin everything.
You end the call with a knot in your stomach, dreading the moment Jungkook texts you back. When your phone finally buzzes, you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before looking.
Instagram: Itzy.all.inyeji liked your story
Rolling your eyes, you're sort of relieved that it wasn't Jungkook who replied to your message, you've never even texted the guy, how did you manage to fuck up so badly?
Clicking and the chat you heart sinks for the hundredth time that day; he'd left you on seen.
That's worse than just sending a simple "what the fuck" or "you crazy bitch"
You spend the next few hours obsessing over what he might be thinking, imagining the worst-case scenarios. You take a deep breath and open your messages, fingers trembling as you type out an apology to Jungkook. After a few moments of agonizing over the wording, you hit 'delete' and throw your phone across the room in frustration. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. How could you be so stupid.
-
"It really can't be that bad, l mean, when did you even start taking nudes and-" Jimin leans closer to you as he raises a brow, "who did you want to send it to anyway, huh?"
You take a deep breath, feeling embarrassed by the situation. "I never intended to send a nude to anyone," you explain. "I had just taken the photo for myself, to feel more confident in my body. But then I thought, why not share it with Yeji? She's always told me to be more outgoing"
Jimin nods, understanding. "So what happened?"
"Well, I thought I sent it to her, but instead, it ended up in the chat of Jeon Jungkook," you say, feeling your face turn red with embarrassment.
"Her brother?!" Jimin yells a bit too loud
"I don't know how it happened! but now I feel exposed as fuck."
Jimin puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Well what did he say?" He asks, curious as to how someone would even react to that.
"That's the worst part!" Taking a sip from your coffee, you whisper-yell, "nothing, he said nothing! Nada, nichts!"
"It's okay, so what if that mister 'all muscle no brain' saw your boobs? He should feel grateful and privileged!" Jimin tries to comfort you but fails miserably.
You sigh and shake your head. "It's not about him seeing my boobs, Jimin. It's about the fact that he has a picture and could potentially share it with others. That would be so humiliating"
Jimin nods, understanding. “I see what you mean. We'll figure out a way to get that picture out of his phone.”
Appreciating Jimin's support, you feel a bit better knowing that someone is there to help you.
It's not like you hadn't asked Yeji to delete it for you whenever she got the chance to get to his phone in the first place. Unfortunately for you though, Jungkook had forgotten his phone at the gym, and now you were faced with the dilemma of how to get the picture removed.
You toyed with the idea of waiting for him to get the phone back home, but as time passed, you became more and more impatient with the situation. So now there was only one reasonable plan; ask Jungkook to politely remove the pic—ugh, who were you kidding? You were breaking into that damn gym, no matter the cost.
You glance at your reflection in Jimin's full-length mirror and ask incredulously, "are you kidding me?" You and Jimin are both dressed in black with face masks hiding your identities from any potential cameras or people nearby.
Jimin rolls his eyes and shrugs. "If you're going to ask me to do this shit that could land me in jail, at least let me do it looking good," he complains.
He had a point. After all, you were asking him to take a major risk. It was only fair that he be able to do so looking his best. Jimin was always concerned about his appearance, but it was understandable. Sort of.
Beyond that, Jimin had concerns about the plan itself. It seemed risky and ill-conceived. He had his doubts about whether it would even work.
Jimin looks at you, clearly annoyed. "I don't like the idea of doing anything illegal. It's risky, and it's not worth it." You nod, but you can see the reluctance in his eyes. "But if we're going to go through with this," he continues, "we need to be smart about it. We need to plan everything out, from start to finish, and make sure we don't leave any loose ends. Otherwise, we could both end up in trouble." You agree with him.
Jimin sighs and looks at you with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "I don't know why you always have to involve me in your crazy schemes," he says, shaking his head. "But if you really need my help-"
"I'm not asking you to do anything you dont want to," you interrupt, trying to keep your tone even. "I just need you to help me get access to Jungkooks phone. And you're the only one I trust to do it.”
You can't help but feel a little nervous about what you're about to do, but you try to push those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand. After all, you both agreed to this plan for a good reason.
Jungkook was in the middle of a rigorous workout session. He was hitting the punching bag in front of him with all his might, his fists making a loud thudding sound each time they connected with the bag. His coach was standing next to him, offering words of encouragement and instruction. "Up, up, down, left, up," the coach instructed, urging Jungkook to hit even harder. Despite the difficulty of the workout, Jungkook was determined to push himself to the limit.
As he continued to hit, sweat dripped down his face and back. He had taken off his shirt, preferring to feel the cool air against his skin as he put his body through its paces. Even with his hair in a messy bun, he still managed to look amazing.
After a few more minutes of intense exercise, his coach called for a five-minute break. Jungkook nodded in agreement and made his way to his water bottle, taking long gulps of water to quench his thirst. Also taking a moment to check the time on his phone he realized that It was already 11pm on a Tuesday night, and he knew that he still had a long way to go before he could call it a day.
"Alright champ, good workout, you need to work on your breathing more though" Coach Park told Jungkook, hand hitting his shoulder as a goodbye, leaving him alone in the private gym room. It was now past midnight, and all Jungkook wanted to do was shower and fall into bed, that is until he heard noises from outside catching his attention. He wondered if it was Coach Park, but he knew that he never cleaned the gym this late at night.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Jungkook walked outside and analyzed the empty gym equipment in front of him, but there was no person in sight. Walking back in, Jungkook shakes his head and takes off his hairtie.
Finally, he reached the showers and took off his remaining clothes, putting the water on the coldest option. As he shivered under the cold water, he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching him.
"Are you sure he's not here anymore?" Jimin asked, sounding unsure. "Yes, it's midnight Chim, who in their right mind would-" a cracking door caught both of your attention, making you hide behind the reception desk. You two watched as Jungkook looked around, having probably heard your bickering. When he finally walked back in, you cursed under your breath "shit". Jimin gave you an "I told you so" look, grabbed your hand, and pulled youf towards the front door.
Loosening yourself from his grip with wide eyes, you stare at him. "What are you doing?" You scolded. "Were leaving, Y/n this is crazy, if we get caught you'll look like a spycho bitch"
"You can leave," you scoff, "but I'm going to get that picture deleted off his phone," you say determinedly.
You walk straight to Jungkook's private boxing room with Jimin whining behind you as he follows. "You're lucky I feel cute in this," he says, referring to his outfit.
"Okay, listen," you say, turning to Jimin with a furrowed brow. "You're close with Hoseok, right?" You wait for a nod. "Good. Then go in and check his phone. I think Yeji said his pin was his birthday, 10997."
Jimin interrupts you with a laugh "dumbass", making you hit his chest. "What?" you ask, feeling a little defensive. "That's so obvious. Jungkook is actually stupid." Jimin continues to chuckle.
You hit him playfully and signal for him to stay quiet. "If he catches you, which he won't," you say, stopping him from interrupting you. "Just say that you thought Hoseok was here tonight."
Jimin gives you a look of disbelief, but eventually nods. "You're lucky I love you," he says teasingly before entering the room. You can't help but feel a little guilty for asking Jimin to do this, but you need to delete that picture.
Hoping that Jungkook would take his sweet time in the shower, you watch Jimin from outside the door.
You turn to Jimin and give him a thumbs up, urging him to continue looking for the chat.
Jimin fumbles with the phone, whisper-yelling at you to come help him. When you can still hear the sound of water running in the shower and you quickly jog to Jimin's side, looking down at the phone screen. "He doesn't even have my number saved in his phone," you huff, feeling a small piece of your pride falling away. Crushes can really make you feel the craziest things. "Okay, here it is. Delete it," you say nervously, watching as Jimin hits the 'delete' button just as you hear an unexpected sound from the bathroom.
"What the fuck"
Your heart races as you turn to look at a soaking wet, only in a towel wrapped, Jungkook.
"What the fuck are you guys doing?" Jungkook's voice boomed as he walked closer to you and snatched his phone from Jimin's grasp. You let out a whine as he came face to face with the chat and, well, your breasts.
His eyes widened as his mouth opened in shock, his gaze shifting from the picture to you. "What is this?" he asked, clearly confused, his brow furrowed as he played with his lip ring. You stumbled over your words, looking at Jimin for help, who was equally as confused.
When no one said anything for a while, Jimin decided to speak up. "Y/n accidentally sent you a nude, and now we're trying to delete it so you won't show it around, eventually ruining her life."
"Jimin!" You yelled out in shock, surprised that your best friend would expose you like this. Looking back up at Jungkook, you were close to tears, all of this was so embarrassing. "Why are you acting shocked anyway? It's not like you're seeing the picture for the first time," Jimin reasoned with Jungkook, who was still perplexed. Shaking his head, Jungkook cocked his head to the side. "It is, though. When did you even send this?" Jungkook turned to look back at his phone, his eyes lingering for a moment before he was jolted out of his concentration by you snatching the phone away from him, your fingers fumbling slightly as you worked quickly to delete the picture. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, a weighty presence that made your stomach turn.
Finally, the picture was gone and you breathed a sigh of relief, your shoulders slumping slightly in relaxation. But even as you relaxed, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed and vulnerable.
You wished that you could take back the mistake, that you could erase the memory of that moment from both your mind and Jungkook's. But you knew that it was impossible, that you would have to deal with the humiliation and embarrassment that came with it.
"Are we in trouble?" Your quiet voice speaks up, barely audible. You look around the room, illuminated only by the flickering light, and try to make sense of your situation. You and Jungkook have known each other for over a decade now, and while you've shared many moments together, you've never actually talked more than 2 words to one another.
You can feel the weight of the silence between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You wonder if this moment could be the turning point that changes everything.
"Just leave"
-
"You're telling me that L/n Y/n sent you a pic of her tits?" Hoseok laughs in disbelief. "Damn man, you really got 'em lining up, huh?" he says, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back on Jungkook's couch. "That's crazy man," he adds, staring at Jungkook in disbelief.
Jungkook shakes his head, his mind still recovering from the incident that happened on Tuesday. He and you had known each other for years, but he had never seen you in a romantic way. He had always thought of you as his little sister's best friend, someone he occasionally saw on family dinners or his sisters sleepover parties. But when he received that picture of your amazing boobs, everything changed.
Suddenly, he began to see you in a new light, and he couldn't stop thinking about you. He wondered what other secrets you had, what other parts of your body were just waiting to be discovered. It was a dangerous game, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He was hooked on the thrill of the unknown, the excitement of the forbidden.
"I don't know man," Jungkook admits, running a hand through his hair. "I've just never seen her as more than my little sister's best friend but now-" he trails off, throwing his head back in frustration. "Now I can't stop thinking about her."
Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head at Jungkook's predicament. "You're thinking with your dick, that's all," he says, taking another sip of his drink. "You're frustrated because all you've been doing is practicing, practicing, and practicing. You need to get laid, not a girlfriend. Trust me, it'll make all the difference."
“Coach says its good to have some pent-up tension for my upcoming fight, you know, so I can let it all out in the ring” Jungkook replies, lazily scrolling through his phone.
He'd been training for months for this fight, bettering his skills and studying his opponents.
“Do you do anything else than boxing? I feel like it's all you do” Hoseok crosses his arms, drink empty as he states at his friend. Jungkook chuckles, knowing that his friend had a point. While boxing was his main focus, he did make time for other hobbies and interests, such as playing video games and spending time with his family.
Jungkook took a sip of his drink, contemplating Hoseok's question. "Well, I do some running in the mornings to keep myself in shape. And I also do some weight lifting to build up my strength. But boxing is definitely my main focus right now. I want to be the best in my weight class, and that takes a lot of dedication."
Hoseok raised an eyebrow. "But don't you ever get bored of just doing one thing all the time? Maybe you should try mixing it up a bit, like I don't know, Actually enjoy life? When was the last time you went out to party, let alone had a girl."
Jungkook smiled. "Actually, I've been thinking about taking up martial arts as well." Hoseok nodded, rolling his eyes. "That's a great idea. Why dont you give up on life at this point." The irony was clear in his friends voice.
Jungkook grinned. "Apart from you, I actually have something I'm passionate about hyung, how's your job doing, huh?" Jungkook teases, knowing exactly how much his friend hated his 9-5 office job.
"Stop trying to change the topic, you know I'm just worried about you becoming some weirdo without any friends, what if you end up doing drugs"
-
As you lay down on Yeji's bed, you couldn't help but go on about how handsome and cute Jungkook is. Even though he's seen you naked, somehow seeing him this morning didn't feel awkward at all. It's possible that you were overthinking things after all.
Yeji, who was putting on chapstick next to you, immediately interjected, "I know damn well you're not talking about my disgusting brother right now." You both laughed at her comment before settling in for a much needed sleepover. As you browsed through Yeji's laptop, you stumbled upon a dating show that you both decided to watch.
The show was entertaining, but you couldn't help but daydream about Jungkook throughout.
The more you thought, the more you got the sense that you are still in the process of getting to know Jungkook. You wonder what it would be like to date him and whether he would make a sweet and affectionate boyfriend who would bring you flowers and chocolates. Or maybe he is more reserved when it comes to PDA and prefers not to show too much of it in public.
You wonder whether he would want you to come to his fights to cheer him on or whether he would prefer you to stay home. While you slowly realized that you didn't know much about Jungkook as you thought. Perhaps your initial attraction to him is based on just an idea or fantasy.
“Y/nnnn are you even watching the show?” your friend whines besides you, showing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. You smile, nodding as you focus your eyes and thoughts on the show.
Despite your appreciation for dating shows, your mind keeps drifting back to Jungkook. You wonder what he’s doing at the moment and if he’s thinking of you too. Maybe you can invite him to watch the show with you next time? No Y/n what are you even thinking.
In the meantime, you continue to enjoy the show and the company of your friend, occasionally sharing a laugh or a comment about what’s happening on screen.
"By the way," Yeji starts, looking up from her laptop and lowering the volume. "I've been meaning to ask you. Did you delete the picture from my brother's phone?" You feel a knot form in your stomach as you realize what she's asking. You remember Tuesday when you broke into the gym.
You had thought you had succeeded in deleting it, but now you're not so sure. What if somehow it's still on his phone?
Yeji looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response.
"I did" you tell her.
"Great, how did you do it?" she asks you, her eyes curious and full of wonder. She leans in, eager to hear every detail. "Did you ask him?" she asks, her curiosity peaked.
Swallowing you look anywhere but at her, "Jimin and I broke into the gym and took his phone while he was taking a shower"
"WHAT?!"
-
One reason why falling for your best friend's brother might be a bad idea is because it could potentially ruin the friendship. When you have romantic feelings towards someone, it can be difficult to continue to have a platonic relationship if those feelings are not reciprocated.
Yeah, no shit, you think as you scroll through wikihow, yes, you were that desperate.
Additionally, if a relationship with your best friend's brother were to end badly, it could create tension and awkwardness within your social circle. It's important to carefully consider the potential consequences before making any decisions.
Well, great, thanks for nothing.
You take a deep breath and shut your phone, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over you. As you look around your room, your eyes come to rest on a picture of Yeji and you at disneyland from 5 years ago, and your mind begins to wander.
You can't help but feel a sense of longing as you think about Jungkook again, your thoughts consumed by his handsome features and infectious smile. It's funny how a simple crush can have such a profound impact on one's daily life, filling even the most mundane moments with excitement and anticipation.
Excitement and anticipation, that will never lead to more than a quick 'hello' or 'bye'.
You have it bad for Jeon Jungkook, and there was just no right way to deal with it.
-
Jungkook stands in front of the punching bag, his gloves tight, and his muscles tense. Sweat drips down his forehead as he delivers punch after punch, his breathing heavy and laboured. As coach yells at him to go harder and faster, pushing him to his limits, Jungkook's frustration mounts as he feels like he's not making as much progress as he should be. Suddenly, the coach curses and leans against the big mirror. Jungkook can feel his heart rate increasing as he wonders what he's done wrong. "Jungkook, are you even trying?" the coach asks, his voice filled with warning.
"Of course I am," Jungkook snaps back, his temper starting to flare. He removes his boxing gloves and throws them on the ground in frustration. "I'm already much better than last week." Coach Park doesn't seem impressed. "You might be, but you're not better than yesterday or the day before, Jeon. You need to concentrate and push yourself if you want to see real progress. Don't be satisfied with just making a little bit of improvement." Jungkook takes a deep breath and nods his head. He knows the coach is right. He needs to focus on the present and work harder every day if he wants to reach his goals.
Jungkook begins to ponder about the things that have been causing him stress lately. One of these things is you. He wonders how it is that a simple picture could provoke such intense emotions within him. It wasn't just the picture itself, but the fact that he saw a vulnerable side of you that made his heart race.
He has always been told by his coaches over the years that there is no time for relationships when you are focused on your career. As a result, he has never really experienced a relationship in its fullest. He has slept around with various girls over the years, and he knows that he looks good. But he has never caught feelings for someone in the way that he has for you.
Were you the first person to make him feel this way? Perhaps it is the way you smile or the way you laugh that has captured his heart. Maybe it is the way you look at him or the way you support him when you go to his matches with his sister. Whatever it is, the thought of you fills him with a sense of longing and desire that he cannot ignore.
With Quick Hits, Jungkook seems to have found his rhythm again. His hits were getting harder and faster, unintentionally breaking the punching bag, causing it to fall to the ground. Coach Park was thrilled with his performance, and instead of scolding him, he clapped in pride. "Now that's how I want to see you in the ring next week, Jeon. No slacking. Just think with your fists and muscles." Jungkook smiled, nodding grateful for the praise. He had been working hard to get back into the groove, and it seemed like it was finally paying off. As he wiped the sweat off his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. After all, he had his sights set on the championship, and he wasn't going to let anything get in his way.
Not even a stupid crush
-
“You want me to come?” You ask, unsure of whether or not you want to attend Yeji's brother's match tonight. “Yes,” Yeji replies, looking at herself in the mirror as she gets ready. “Hoseok is gonna be there and I want to sit next to him,” she wiggles her eyebrows, making you laugh. You know that Yeji has had the biggest crush on her brother's best friend for ages now, and it's finally time for her to make a move. As you stand beside her, looking at yourself through the mirror, you ask, “So, what should I wear?” Yeji furrows her brows. “Since when do you care? Usually, you just put on some jeans and a shirt and call it a day.”
You panic for a moment, not wanting to appear too eager. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I don't know why I asked,” you awkwardly laugh. But then you think of an idea, “Actually, I was thinking of wearing a skirt and top tonight. What do you think?” Yeji's face lights up, “Yes! You should definitely wear a skirt! I have the perfect one for you!” She runs over to her closet and pulls out a beautiful, flowy miniskirt that perfectly matches your figure.
As Yeji begins to work on your hair and makeup, skillfully transforming you into a vision of beauty, you feel yourself relax under her expert touch, and the tension of the though of seeing Jungkook tonight begins to melt away.
As you look at yourself in the mirror, you can't help but feel a surge of confidence and self-assurance.
When you arrive at the match, Hoseok's eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you two. You catch his gaze and smile, nodding your head to Yeji and mouthing a "She's all yours" before disappearing to find your seats which were front row. You feel more confident than you have in a long time.
As you sit down on the cold, hard bleachers, you spot Jungkook talking animatedly to his coach not far from where you're seated. When your gaze meets from across the gym, he waves at you enthusiastically, a wide grin spreading across his face. You're shocked that he'd even acknowledge you in this way, but you find yourself waving back and smiling in return despite your surprise.
“Hey Y/n, didn't know you were coming to the fight today!” Jungkook speaks up, walking over from in front of you and startling you out of your thoughts.
“Oh, sorry you scared me,” you laugh sheepishly in response, hoping the heat rising in your cheeks isn't too noticeable. “Yeah, Yeji dragged me here to watch the game. It's not like it's my first time attending anyway, though,” you shrug nonchalantly, trying to make your smile appear more genuine and relaxed than you feel on the inside.
You're not sure why you feel the need to clarify that this isn't your first time watching one of his fights. Maybe you just want him to know that you do support him, even if you're not always able to attend. Either way, you hope he can't sense how flustered he's made you with such a simple greeting and question.
“That's true,” he laughs nervously, brushing his hair back as he avoids eye contact with you for a second. Clearing his throat loudly, he looks around anxiously at the full arena and then back at you. “So,” he starts hesitantly, “Are you excited? I'm really nervous if I'm being totally honest.”
Was Jeon Jungkook seriously trying to make awkward small talk with you right now?
You couldn't help thinking about the uncomfortable incident from last week; maybe he felt guilty and was trying to alleviate the tension between you two. “Um, listen, Jungkook,” you begin, “if this is about last week, I sincerely apologize for making things weird-” “No, not at all!” He interrupts you hastily. “I just wanted to, you know, chat. We haven't really talked in a while, and I thought it might be nice to catch up?” catch up?
He pauses and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I feel like things have been kind of strange between us recently, and I don't want it to be that way.” Your heart softens at his words. Maybe you had misjudged his intentions; it seemed he genuinely just wanted to put the awkwardness behind you.
You offer him a small, reassuring smile. “okay, friends?” you hold out your hand in a gesture of reconciliation. He grins, looking visibly relieved, and grips your hand eagerly. “Friends.” The tension evaporates, and for the first time in a long while, you feel completely at ease talking with your best friend's brother.
Looking around the boxing arena, Jungkook's eyes scan the area for his coach, who was supposed to help him put on his gloves. However, he couldn't seem to find him anywhere. With a hint of desperation in his voice, he turns to you and hesitantly asks for a favor. "Hey, would you be able to help me out?" he asks, his eyes filled with hope. You nod, curious about what he needs help with. "I need someone to tighten my boxing gloves for me so they don't slip off when I'm fighting," he explains. "Do you think you could come to my dressing room and help me out real quick?-" he asks, interrupting himself to ensure that he isn't imposing on your time. "Only if that's okay with you" You agree, and he leads you to his dressing room, where you help him with his gloves.
As you work on getting the gloves on, your mind can't help but drift to the closeness of Jungkook's strong body. You notice how his breath quickenes when you touch his hand, and you can't help but feel drawn to him.
You're about to leave when suddenly, Coach Park enters the dressing room, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. "Jeon, you're on in 5 minutes," he says before leaving. "Well, good luck, I guess." You give him a tight smile and turn to leave, but Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you close.
Confused by his own actions, Jungkook stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. He seems lost in thought, as if trying to come to a decision. Finally, he leans in, his eyes flickering with emotion, and presses his lips to yours. It's a gentle, tentative kiss at first, but soon becomes more passionate. You feel the wetness of his lips as they move in sync with yours, and the slight pressure of his lip piercing against your skin.
Your heart begins to race as you realize the depth of your feelings for him and the intensity of the moment. As you pull away, you can't help but wonder what this would mean in your relationship. If there was one in the first place.
When Jungkook pulls away, he locks eyes with you, his brows knitted as he processes what just happened. But just as suddenly as he kissed you, he disappears.
As you stood alone in Jungkook's dressing room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, you were still reeling from the kiss that had just taken place, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing. On the other hand, you were anxious about what would happen next, unsure of what his next move would be.
As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you tried to make sense of your feelings. Why had Jungkook kissed you? Was it just a ploy to distract him from the nervousness because of the fight? Or was there something more there? Despite your confusion, you couldn't deny the spark that had been ignited between you and Jungkook. It was as if the kiss had unlocked something more inside of you.
Jungkook ended up winning the fight, not only because of his exceptional fighting skills but also because of his sharp instincts and quick reflexes. The adrenaline rush from the kiss may have given him an extra boost of energy and motivation to come out on top.
Jungkook exhaled a deep breath and sluggishly made his way to the bathroom, feeling utterly exhausted from the intense fight. As he undressed himself, he couldn't help but notice the sweat on his body and hair.
Stepping into the shower, letting the warm water cascade down his skin, soothing his aching muscles, the fight had taken a toll on his body, but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering him. The kiss he had shared with you had left a deep impression on him, making him realize that there was something special between you two.
He lathered his hair with shampoo, humming a tune to himself, lost in his thoughts. The sensation of the water running down his body was comforting, and he took his time to savour the moment. Closing his eyes and letting his mind wander, he imagined what it would be like to spend more time with you.
As he stepped out of the shower, he couldn't help but think of only one thing, you.
Yeji ended up going home with Hoseok, entrusting you with the keys to her car so that you could drive to her house and get the remainder of your belongings before returning home. As you drove, the music from the radio gradually faded into the background. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you thought about the wonderful night you had.
Once you arrived at Yeji's house, you used your spare keys to let yourself in and made your way to her room. The familiar scent of Yeji's perfume greeted you as you walked down the hallway. You looked around the house, admiring the pictures of Yeji's family and the cozy decorations that made the place feel like home.
Along the way, you couldn't help but overhear Jungkook humming in the shower. The sound sent shivers down your spine, as the last thing you wanted was to encounter him after what had happened.
You tried to ignore the sound and continued walking. As you quickly gathered your belongings, you suddenly found yourself face-to-face with Jeon Jungkook.
Your heart raced as you tried to keep your composure, but his piercing gaze made it difficult. You could feel the tension in the air, and you knew that you had to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Hey, Y/n," he says with a laugh. "So is sneaking into places your new hobby or...?" You smile and raise your hands in defeat. "Just here to get my stuff. Yeji left with Hoseok."
Jungkook doesn't seem to want to let you go just yet. Grabbing your hand just as you were about to leave "Y/n, about that kiss earlier..." he starts, but before he can finish, you interrupt him. You don't want to get any more embarrassed than you already are. "It's fine," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. "It was in the heat of the moment. Don't worry, I already forgot about it." Despite your attempt to brush off the situation, you can't help but feel a sense of awkwardness between the two of you. You stand there, waiting for him to say something else, hoping for the best. But when nothing comes, you give him a tight-lipped smile and leave.
He whispered, "y/n," but you were no longer there to answer. He rubbed his hands over his head in frustration, sighing deeply as he made his way to his bed.
Lying down, Jungkook tried to find comfort in the embrace of slumber, but it was no use. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you and the events that had led up to this moment. He couldn't help but replay the kiss in his head, trying to find a way to make things right. As the hours ticked by, he tossed and turned.
Would you come back to him? Was there anything he could do to win you over? These questions plagued him until the sun began to rise, and he knew that he had to face another day without having you by his side.
-
"Good morning sunshine,” Jimin said with a smile as he walked into the coffee shop where you worked. Ordering a large latte, he sat down near the counter so he could talk to you as you worked.
“So, Mr. ‘no brain cells’ won yesterday's fight, huh?” Jimin said, taking a sip of his coffee. You nodded and continued taking another customer's order as Jimin watched you. After a few minutes of small talk, Jimin noticed that something was bothering you.
“Something's wrong. Tell me what's wrong,” he urged, concerned. You hesitated for a moment, but then decided to tell him.
"I think I kissed Jungkook"
Jimin's eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his coffee. “You think?!” You rolled your eyes at his dramatic reaction. “No, we kissed,” you said, clarifying the situation. Jimin was surprised, but he listened as you told him more about what had happened.
You went on to describe the events of the previous night, how you had gone to Jungkook's dressing room to help him out ended up kissing him—well he kissed you.
You were surprised, but at the same time, it felt right. As you recounted the details to Jimin, you realized that you were still processing your feelings about what had happened. You weren't sure what it meant for your relationship with Jungkook or even what it meant for yourself. Jimin listened patiently, offering words of support and encouragement.
“I mean isn't it good? That you guys kissed? It means that Jungkook likes you in some way” Jimin encourages, but you shake your head. Although you enjoyed the kiss, you are still uncertain about Jungkook's true feelings. Perhaps, he was just confused and did not want to hurt your feelings. You continue to ponder the situation as you take another customer's order.
You wonder if you should talk to Jungkook and ask him about his intentions. Would it be awkward to bring it up?
“So he kisses you to let out his frustration? Y/n come on, he liked you!” Jimin insists, trying to convince you that Jungkook's feelings are genuine. You can't help but wonder if Jimin is right. Could it be possible that Jungkook was interested in you?
Maybe you should observe how Jungkook behaves around you in the future. As you continue working, your mind keeps drifting back to the kiss. It was sweet and unexpected. Maybe you should kiss Jungkook again and see how he reacts. But what if he doesn't feel the same way? You don't want to ruin your friendship or whatever it is that you have with him. You decide to take it slow and be patient. Time will tell if Jungkook has any romantic interest in you.
-
Hoseok and Jungkook were at the gym, getting ready for their workout. As they were stretching, Hoseok decided to tease Jungkook by saying, "I kissed your sister yesterday."
Jungkook groaned, "Dude, don't tell me that stuff. It's disgusting." not amused. Feeling a bit awkward, he couldn't help but look away. As he turned to the mirror to distract himself, he thought about how much he had been working out lately. He flexed his muscles, admiring the definition that was starting to show. It was hard work, but he knew it was worth it to reach his fitness goals.
Knowing that Jimin had already spilled the beans, Hoseok asked Jungkook if there was anything he wanted to share. Jungkook only shrugged and replied, "No, everything's cool." However, Hoseok wasn't convinced and probed further, "Are you sure? You didn't kiss anyone, too?"
Jungkook's head snapped around, his eyes wide with surprise. "Who told you?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion. It was clear that he was not expecting anyone to know about what had happened.
"Jimin"
"Listen dude, you obviously like her, why not go for it” Hoseok asks, frustrated with his best friend. Sighing, Jungkook looks down, "It's not that easy. If I let myself be vulnerable, then I can kiss my career goodbye. I have worked so hard to get where I am, and I don't want to jeopardize it just because of a girl."
Hoseok nods understandingly, "I get it, but think about it this way, having someone who supports you can actually help your career. She can be your rock and your motivation, someone who understands the struggle and is there to help you get through it. Besides, having a girlfriend or a partner is not a hindrance to success."
"it can even improve your overall well-being and happiness, man, which can benefit to better performance in your career." He finishes
Jungkook thinks about it for a moment, picking up the heaviest weight he can find, "You have a point there, but I still don't know if I'm ready for a relationship." Hoseok pats his back, "Take your time, but don't close yourself off to the possibility. You never know. She might be the one."
-
As you dance around your apartment with music playing on your laptop, life's weirdness starts to catch up with you. You're aware that you need to get back on track with college, but right now, you need to focus on yourself.
After a long day of work, you decide to treat yourself to some relaxation by taking a warm bath. You light a few candles and pour yourself a glass of your favorite red wine to set the mood. You happily soak in the tub while enjoying the soothing sounds of Taylor Swift's music playing from your speakers. As you begin to unwind and let your thoughts wander, you hear a series of knocks on your front door, which startles you out of your calm state.
At first, you considered ignoring it, thinking it might just be the neighbour's kids playing "knock, knock, ginger." But when the knocking persists, you quickly wrap yourself in your bathrobe and make your way to the door, wondering who could be visiting you at this time of the evening.
To your surprise, it's Jungkook standing there with an intense look on his face.
"I can't stop thinking about it,"
"I- Jungkook what are doing here” you whisper, covering yourself up more with the robe as you stare at the older. Jungkook steps closer, his eyes full of emotion. "The kiss, I can't stop thinking about it," he repeats, clarifying your confusion. You shake your head, trying to comprehend what he's saying. “Why? I thought-"
"I don't know what you thought, but it's all wrong. You got the wrong idea," he interrupts, looking down. He takes a deep breath and continues, "I didn't kiss you because I wanted to distress. I kissed you because I couldn't resist the urge to feel your lips on mine."
You still don't know what to say, but you feel a sense of relief wash over you as you realize that he doesn't regret the kiss. "So, what now?" you ask, hoping that this isn't the end of whatever it is that you both share. "I don't know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I do know that I want to be with you-"
Jungkook's face fell as you interrupted him in the middle of his sentence. You could see the confusion and disappointment in his eyes as he tried to understand why you were stopping him from speaking. It was clear that he had been about to say something important, something that he felt needed to be said.
You knew what he was going to say, and you couldn't let him do it. You knew that it would only lead to trouble, and you couldn't bear the thought of losing your best friend, who happened to be Jungkook's sister. But as you looked at Jungkook, you could see the pain in his eyes, and you knew that you had hurt him.
You felt tongue-tied, unable to articulate your thoughts. Finally, you spoke up, trying to ease the tension. "I'm sorry, Jungkook. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that...well, you know-"
His brows furrow now, tongue playing with his piercing as he stares at you. You can feel the tension between the two of you. "Fuck I knew this was a bad idea," he mutters, turning to leave. You feel a pang of regret as you watch him walk back to his car. You know you have hurt him, and you also know that he might never come back. "Jungkook," you say, watching him walk away, but it was too late, he was gone. As you stand there, you know that this is not the end of it. You will have to face him again.
The following day, Jungkook was still feeling restless as he trained. His fists pounded against the punching bag with an intensity that left indents in the material. He couldn't shake off his frustration and confusion. After all, you had reciprocated the kiss, so why were you suddenly pushing him away?
He wondered if the age difference between you was causing a problem, but that seemed unlikely given that it was only a 2-year gap. You had mentioned that his sister was the issue and that you didn't want to lose her. Jungkook understood your concern, but he wasn't going to let that happen in the first place.
As he thought about all of this, Coach Park's voice suddenly broke through his thoughts. "Jungkook, concentrate! You're using the wrong technique," he said sternly.
As he tried to refocus his attention on his training, his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if there was anything he could say or do to convince you to give him a chance. Maybe if he showed you how much he cared for you, you would see that his feelings were genuine.
He was determined to make things work between the two of you, no matter what obstacles stood in their way.
“Your next fight against Seo is in only 2 weeks and you're still on the same level as last week” Coach Park yelled, “focus Jungkook! Focus!”.
Jungkook could feel the pressure mounting as the fight approached. He had been training tirelessly for weeks, and yet he couldn't seem to improve. He knew he had to give it his all, but the fear of losing weighed heavily on him.
With frustration and anger, Jungkook pulled off his boxing gloves and threw them at the floor, leaving a big hole. He was tired and felt like he was hitting a wall. He had been pushing himself to the limit every day, but it seemed like he couldn't get any better. The stress of losing you was starting to get to him, and he couldn't help but feel like he was about to crack.
“Fuck this! I'm taking a day off” he swore, leaving his trainer perplexed. Jungkook knew he needed to clear his mind and take a break from the endless grind of training. He needed to find a way to get his head back in the game and come back stronger than ever before. He needed you.
As Yeji applied her makeup and got ready for her date with Hoseok, she couldn't help but tease you about your lack of a love life. "Go out and have some fun," she suggested, giving you a playful nudge. You declined, insisting that you were fine, but Yeji wasn't convinced. "Why not try dating around a bit?" she pressed. "It couldn't hurt to put yourself out there." She went on.
"Do you still have that crush on my brother? You should go out"
"You two have been so tense lately," she observed, making a face. "But seriously, you need to take a break from all the work and studying. Maybe try a new hobby or explore a new part of the city. Life is too short to spend all your time cooped up in the library!”.
You take a deep breath and nod, realizing she might be right. You've been so focused on your studies and work that you haven't had much time for anything else. Maybe it's time to try something new, something that could help you relax and find some balance in your life.
But as Yeji brings up the topic of your being lonely, you feel a pang of discomfort. It's true that you don't have much experience, and you often find yourself spending long hours alone in the library, but you've never really thought about it as being lonely. You've always been introverted and independent, and you've never felt the need to have a lot of people around you. But Yeji's question makes you wonder if you're missing out on something, if there's a whole world of experiences you're not having because you're too used to being alone.
You smile weakly at her, not quite sure how to respond. Maybe it's time to open yourself up to new people and new experiences. Maybe it's time to take a chance and see what life has to offer beyond the walls of the library.
You completely brush off her suggestion of dating her brother, even though she was well aware of your secret crush with him - she had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember, after all. But you had yet to tell in her about the kiss you had shared with Jungkook just before the fight.
“I really should be on my way, I have to head into work in an hour,” you tell her, embracing her tightly before heading for the door.
The café was rather empty today, giving you time to relax and do nothing but daydream. You gazed outside the window, watching the birds playing around in the trees, the sun rays shining down on the green leaves.
The radio music was playing in the background as you cleaned the coffee machine, humming along. Suddenly, the opening of the door interrupted your relaxation, making you look up to find the person you didn't want to see at this moment. Jungkook.
Your heart raced as you tried to keep your cool. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?” You sighed, watching as he panted heavily. “I need to talk to you, now”. You shook your head, “I can't, I'm working-”. “Just 2 minutes, please” he begged, with a look of desperation in his eyes.
You hesitated for a moment, torn between your work and your feelings for him. Finally, you gave in and walked to a quiet corner of the cafe where you could talk.
Your heart thumped in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you asked with a sigh, observing as he gasped for air. “I need to speak with you, immediately,” he said.
You shook your head, torn between your responsibilities at work and your deep affection for him. “I can’t. I’m in the middle of my shift,” you replied, despite the urge to drop everything for him.
“Just two minutes, please,” he begged, his eyes conveying a sense of desperation and longing that made your knees weak.
You hesitated, conflicted by your duties and your feelings. Eventually, you gave in to your heart and led him to a quiet corner of the cafe where you could have a private conversation.
As much as you wanted to deny him, you knew that you would always make time for Jungkook, no matter what else was demanding your attention. He had a hold on you that you couldn’t break, even if you tried.
“I can't stop thinking of you-” he starts, his eyes burning into your soul as he speaks with an intensity you've never seen before. “and before you say anything, I just need you to hear me out.” He pleads. “Ever since that kiss, I haven't been able to get you off my mind. I don't know how or why, but everything changed in that moment. I can't focus, I'm distracted from my training, and all I can think about, all I want, is you.” He continues, his words flowing quickly.
“You've consumed every thought I have, and I find myself dreaming of your smile, replaying that kiss over and over. I know this is crazy and we barely talk to each other, but I've never felt this way about anyone. Because you're all I think about now, and I don't ever want to stop.”
His eyes search yours, looking for a sign that you feel the same way about him. “Say something, anything,” he pleads, his heart on the line. Your eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, meet his gaze full of hope and love. You feel overwhelmed with emotion, as if you are about to burst with feelings you have never experienced before.
You take a deep breath and try to gather your thoughts, willing your tongue to move. You feel like you are in a dream. You look at him once more, taking in every detail of his face, from the curve of his lips to the glint in his doe eyes.
Finally, you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jungkook,” you say, “you have no idea how much I care about you." You pause, taking in his stunned expression. “I don't know where this will lead us," You take his hand, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “I want to be with you, Jungkook,” you say, your heart swelling with affection.
“Will you let me?” he asks. "Will you let me be your boyfriend?"
-
"Looking great, babe," Jungkook comments as you walk into his private room at the gym wearing his hoodie, which he insists looks better on you. "I thought I was late and you had already started," you sigh, gripping his shirt as you pull him down to give him a kiss.
"Nah, I needed to wait for my girl to come watch me," he winks, earning a gag from Yeji who was right behind the two of you. "Yeez, get a room. You guys are disgusting," she teases.
Raising an eyebrow, you turn to look at her. "I remember you being the one to hook up with Hoseok in the bathroom while I was in your room last week," you say with a smirk.
“Okay guys, gotta run, Hoseoks waiting outside for me, see you later” and gone was Yeji, leaving you all alone with Jungkook. You looked up at him, admiring his strong build and the way his muscles flexed as he moved. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that this was your boyfriend, and that he was so dedicated to his fitness and training.
“So..” you start, hugging his arm as you look up at him with only love in your eyes. You felt safe and secure in his presence, and you knew that he felt the same way about you. “So what?” he asks, pecking your nose as he makes his way to the punching bag, giving it a few light hits.
You watch as he begins to warm up, stretching and working out his muscles before diving into his routine.
As you watch him train, you feel a sense of excitement building within you. It's the first time he's letting you watch him train, and you can't wait to see what he's been working on. He knows that you'll be proud of him, just as he is proud of you.
Jungkook has always been a fitness enthusiast. And you have always admired his dedication to fitness. Recently, you have been able to observe him more closely during his workouts, and you can't help but feel excited about it.
You cheer when Jungkook finishes his first set, and he acknowledges you with a small but shy smile. You offer him a bottle of water and kiss him on the cheek, complimenting him on his amazing performance. "Wow," you say, "that was really impressive. You're going to have to teach me how to do that sometime!" Your boyfriend shakes his head and laughs. "You want to fight against Jeon Jungkook?" he asks incredulously, referring to himself. "He's a 10-time gold medal winner, you know." Despite his teasing, you remain determined. "I don't care," you say, hitting his chest playfully. "I bet I could beat you if I had some training." Jungkook smiles at your enthusiasm and agrees to teach you some basic moves later.
The day seems to pass quickly, and before you know it, Jungkook is already walking you home. You both chat about how the day went, the things that you've been up to and as you reach your doorstep, you feel a slight disappointment that your time together is already over. You ask Jungkook if he wants to come in but he shakes his head "gotta shower" he declines.
"Hey, you can always shower at my place," you say, unsure of how he would react. Jungkook seems to consider it for a moment before he smirks and walks closer squeezing your ass, teasing, "You want to take a shower with me, huh?"
You laugh and blush, feeling a little embarrassed. "I never said that," you protest, but both of you know that's exactly what you want.
-
You find yourself seated on the bleachers, watching Jungkook hit a guy you don't remember the name off repeatedly in the ring. He was doing amazingly, every hit being though out to perfection. With each punch thrown, the crowd roared with excitement. You could feel the energy in the air, electrifying and contagious. You couldn't help but cheer for Jungkook as he landed another punch, and another, and another.
Finally, after months of hard work and preparation, the moment had finally arrived. The crowd was on the edge of their seats. All eyes were on the competitors, and the tension was high as they waited for the announcement of the winner.
As the announcer counted down, the fighters held their breath, waiting for the moment they had been working towards. When the announcement finally came, the crowd erupted into cheers, and the winner, Jeon Jungkook, was lifted up on the shoulders of his supporters.
It was a moment of triumph, not just for Jungkook, but for everyone who had supported him along the way. His hard work and dedication had paid off, and he had achieved something truly remarkable. The National Seoul Championship 2023 would always be remembered as the moment that Jeon Jungkook proved himself to be a true champion.
You couldn't believe it. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend, the champion, stand victorious in the ring. You ran up to him, your heart overflowing with joy and pride, and hugged him tightly. His bare chest, coated with sweat, pressed against yours as you congratulated him and gave him as many kisses as you could.
As he held the almost 4-foot trophy in his hand, Jungkook hugged you back, his smile never leaving his face. “We did it,” he breathed out against your lips, “No Jungkook, you did it,” you corrected him, pecking his lips. Shaking his head, Jungkook laughed. “I wouldn't be here without you,” he said, his eyes filled with love and gratitude.
@kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @codeinebelle @telepathytae @faepurity @koobsessed @mermaidxhes @bebejungkook @sxtaep @janedukiesworld @outro-kook @grasstrainerjoonie @ziko @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck @beahonomo @jiimtaee @nervoustyphoonpersona @fan-ati--c @koobsessed @nucleo-bang-tan @sincerelyflora @lil-sracha @sweetonkookieandtae @exactlygreatcoffee
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kennedyswhore · 5 months
Text
WORLD-CLASS SINNER!⠀
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FEATURING: stepdad!leon x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: finally, finally after your mother leaves you home alone, you’re busy in your room— having some fun and thinking no one’s home, unaware that your step-dad had just took a day off.
WARNINGS: MDNI! stepcest, moral ambiguity, mutual possessiveness, dubcon if you squint, slight voyeurism, manipulation, foreplay, fingering, unprotected p in v, dacryphlia, size difference, stomach bulge, creampie, backhanded praises, usage of pet names
WORD COUNT: 4.1k
STICKY NOTE: first fic of my KINKTOBER’23 & dedicated to @moolvn for being so sweet, always thirsting and drooling over Leon with me!!
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Is it hard being the step-daughter of the government’s one of the best, if not the best, agents?
Of course. They disappear for days to weeks at a time—leaving for training, meetings, press events, and then for missions. You go from having them all to yourself, to sharing them with the world. And there’s so many things to worry about, from them going to work and never coming home, to their scars never getting the chance to heal when there’s always a new one appearing the next day.
Those all sound logical answers to the question, normal ones. Hence why you’ve practiced saying them so many times in case anyone ever asks.
But, truly, you knew most of those were things you’d never have to worry about. Not when you’re the step-daughter of none other than Leon Kennedy.
Your step-dad being, well... himself, was enough to keep any thoughts of danger from your mind. He was too fast, too strong, too skilled, too protective for anything to ever happen to either of you. But this peace of mind only gives room for you to dwell on other things. 
Ever since he’d met you, he thought you were a precious little thing. The first time he laid eyes on you, he thought you were adorable. He felt an instant attraction to you and, luckily for him, your mother made her presence around the house scarce for work reasons, leaving the two of you alone quite often. 
For months, he played the fatherly role in your life. He made dinner, asked you about the stuff that’s been troubling you, offered to help you with them, and spent time with you as much as you wanted. Truthfully, as much as he wanted. He knew he could make you want whatever he desired even more. He was so good at it that most of the time whatever he wanted seemed like it was your idea in the first place.
Leon is a man with an impeccable resilience, maintaining a perfect control of his emotions. Selfless, skilled in his line of work, makes bad dad jokes almost all the time—he’s just a good man with a face card that never declines. Of course your mother would fall for him, who wouldn’t? And Leon wouldn’t exactly call himself selfish, no one would—but he’s awfully aware that he’s pretty selfish when it comes to you. It’s almost comical how you break that control, turn his morals upside down without much effort.
If he was honest, he felt disgusted in himself from time to time. It was a guilty pleasure of his, jerking off to relieve tension with some questionable fantasies involving you. Really, no matter how hard he tried to picture his wife, the only thing that made him cum right in his palm was the dirty, dirty imaginations of his sweet step-daughter.
And fuck, as if that wasn’t enough, your name almost escapes his mouth in a whiny moan whenever he pounds into your mother. With the newfound energy he gets from imagining you under him, desperate and stupid for his cock, his loud moans and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin could probably be heard from 3 blocks away.
Yeah, you really got the poor old man fucked up.
So to at least relieve some of his urges down, he touched you as much as possible, whether it was his hands on your waist as he moved past you, his fingertips tracing patterns into your exposed thigh during dinner, or having you curl up into his side when you watched movies. He didn’t miss the way you would always melt into his touch, knowing he had you wrapped around his finger as much as you did him.
To top everything off, Leon, as doting as he is, never has time anymore. Despite how you and your mother live with him, have your own room and bath in his unnecessarily large condo, and even have a card to his bank account for anything you could possibly need—still, you rarely see him. He’s so consumed in his work, being sent to missions after missions.
And you could never hold that against him, not when he’s been working like this his whole life. But still, having just a moment with him could cure all the thoughts that hang heavy in your mind daily. Just a second to be reminded that your step-dad is yours, all alone. That you’re the only daughter he’ll ever have, the only girl he’ll ever need.
Luckily for you, a day comes that he gets a day's break—more like he’s finally getting a vacation as he never gets the chance to take any day off. And he’s able to lounge about, meaning that he’s unlocking the door without making much noise, steps into his house as silently as if he were a ghost, with that signature weary look on his face. 
Leon slowly strokes the temple of his head while at the same time he places his leather jacket on the couch. Now would be the best time to take a cold shower and clear his head of the gnawing thoughts, he thinks as he climbs the stairs leading to the bathroom.
The bathroom is right next to your room, and since you and your mom moved into Leon’s house a few months ago, you’re not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. Because, first of all, the wall is so thin that you can hear all the sounds of whoever is using the bathroom. Yes, all the voices—including your step-father’s as he fists himself in the shower. And, at least what you see as a good thing is that when you really need to use the toilet in the middle of the night but you're scared, it’s right there.
That’s when Leon catches on a little whimper. A pained one, he can tell, but he can’t really figure out who’s the source of it. He already knows that his wife isn’t at home for work reasons, and the thought of anyone other than you in the home is unusual, so he stops walking towards the bathroom and stops dead in his tracks, right next to your slightly ajar door.
So, that means someone who shouldn’t be home isn’t home, right? That must be you. It has to.
Instinctively, his hand slips to the pistol in his pocket, holding it tightly. He doesn’t take it out, not yet. His hand grows tighter and tighter on the gun, as the possibility of many horrifying thoughts flashes through his mind. The last thing he wants is his family to be in danger because of him. God, he would feel terrible.
Another whimper, followed by somewhat of a moan, his brain is unable to comprehend what he just heard. He takes a few steps closer, taking the next few moments to comprehend the sounds coming from your bedroom, his eyes widening as the realization finally, finally sinks on him. 
Leon’s eyes move from your needy expression to your naked body as he digests the sweet, almost pitiful, sounds coming out of you. 
He continues to take in your entire body as his brain makes excuses for why he’s staring at the sight of his step-daughter masturbating instead of just going and taking that much-needed shower. Well, he can definitely make excuses later. He’s got his chance, he might as well use it. Besides, just a little peeking wouldn’t hurt, right?
His gaze travels downward—you’ve got a thin layer of sweat coating your body as you lean back into the mattress, hips thrusting upwards in time with each thrust of your fingers between your legs.
Poor thing, Leon can’t help but think, must be so tired trying to cum.
It hits him hard—he knows this is wrong on so many levels, yet still can’t help but feel drawn to it. The movement of your trembling fingers in your soppy cunt as you try to reach that one spot is enough to make him throb in his pants. He really can’t help himself when your body looks even better than he imagined. Much, much better than the way he pictured it in his head.
He looks down, letting out a huff as if embarrassed by himself, hand uncontrollably going down to his slacks to cup his clothed dick, feeling himself harden even more at the sight unfolding before him.
He should probably help you relieve that tension, right?
Despite knowing full well that what he is about to do goes against everything he stands for, his body betrays him at every turn. Leon finds himself fully opening your door (you didn't even try to close it in the first place) and he wishes he could engrave the dumb little look on your face the moment he walks in. He quickly notices your slightly parted lips open to protest, and then, without even giving you time to speak, he sits down on the edge of your bed, right next to you.
“What, wait—” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he drags a heavy finger along your slit, up to your still swollen clit—making you gasp against his lips as they ghost your own. He teases only for a second, not able to bare you being in pain when he’s there to do something about it, just like he’s always been. He uses your excessive slick to rub harsh circles over your clit, it sends your eyes rolling back, it’s so much more practiced than your pathetic attempts at pleasuring yourself.
But it’s not enough to stop you from resisting. You shake your head desperately, one hand slapping his chest in a poor attempt to get him to stop. But no, with the way he’s much bigger than you, it’s futile. He can’t be doing this to you, right? But then, why do you want it so bad? It’s wrong, but why does it feel right?
“You shouldn’t do this, you need to—” before you can finish your sentence, Leon plungs a finger inside you to stop you from protesting more, curling it upwards.
“So wet, look at how easy that went in. You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? You’ve wanted this from the start,” he taunts, adding another finger without bothering to ask, two fingers now shoved inside you. His hands are much bigger than yours, and you’re now extremely aware of how thick his fingers are. They reach deep, much deeper than your own fingers could ever reach, and are rough with callouses. He moves them with the same precision and finesse he seems to carry through every facet of his life, curling them up in such a way that they press firm against your sweet spot every time.
If he’s this good with his fingers alone, how are you supposed to handle the rest of him?
“You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me, baby,” Leon chuckles, a deep and low sound that vibrates through his chest and has you shamefully clenching around his fingers.
You bite your lip hard to stifle your noises as waves of pleasure surges through your body. You aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans, but clearly he notices your plight. 
“Why are you so quiet now? You think I don’t see how you look at me? The way your clothes change into skimpy little fits when I’m around? Thought I was an idiot?” Leon teases, his voice is so sultry that it immediately give you butterflies in your stomach. “Let me hear your little noises, tell me how good it feels. I know it feels good.”
It’s the pebble that cracks the glass—and Leon loves knowing it doesn’t take you long to melt into his fingers. “Shit, s’good— feels so good!” you practically whine, craving him too badly to be embarrassed or think much at all about what you were getting yourself into. Your hands land on his shoulders for support. 
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Leon humms in amusement, fastening his finger movements. Your wetness sticks to his knuckles with every pull before it squelches obscenely loud when he pushes back in.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over this.” A pleased smile graces his lips as he uses his free hand to stroke your hair, being (or, perhaps, pretending to be) as sweet as possible. “Let me do the thinking for you, sweetheart, yeah?” he coos, his voice now achingly sweet. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, then lets his hand drift down to your cheek, enjoying the feel of your warm skin.
“Kiss me,” you breathe, words slipping past your mouth without you giving them much of a thought. Yeah, it’s embarrassing, looking at him with such pleading, expectant eyes just to feel his lips—do you regret saying that? No, not in the slightest.
He brings his lips back to yours, piercing blue eyes flickering between both of your eyes for a moment, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t, instead, sliding your hands from where they sat on his shoulders up to twist into his hair.
“You can pretend ‘m someone else… just please kiss me.” His fingers pause their movement for a moment, and he pulls away. You whine, from the loss and out of fear you’d said something wrong.
“Why would you say that?” You trip over any word that hits your tongue. But you don’t need to speak, he does it for you. “I don’t need to do that.” His fingers pick their pace back up, drawing wonton moans from you that you wouldn’t be able to bite back if you tried. “Not when I’ve always pretended your mother was you,” he admits.
Your heart leaps in your chest just as he presses his mouth into yours, the kiss is littered with teeth and spit, but neither of you can find a reason to care.
The familiar feeling starts to coil in your stomach, your hips moving on their own down on his hand to chase the feeling of ecstasy but it never comes, you cry out as the pressure fades.
“More,” you cry softly against his lips, keeping your eyes screwed shut so you don’t have to face any look that he might give you. “Need you.”
Leon brings his fingers to his mouth and you could hear him sucking the digits clean. Your taste was sweet, and if he wasn’t so impatient to be inside you right now, he’d definitely taste you even more. Maybe next time.
He complies, tugging himself out of the jeans he’d thrown this morning and kicking them off to be dealt with later. He doesn’t waste any time teasing, rushing to give you what you want—what you need, to make his pretty little daughter feel good the way he’s been cursing his brain for imaging for the longest time. 
You should feel gross with the way you almost drool at the sight of your step-father’s cock, someone who’s meant to parent you, not fuck you—but you think that shameful part of you already died when you squeezed around his fingers.
He lines the thick head of him up with your already stretched hole, dropping back down to your lips as he eases in. The pop of the head of him pulls a gasp from the both of you, but he doesn’t give you time to adjust to it, knowing with how you’ve been aching to be filled all day that you can handle the stretch. Which is exactly what he gives you, his fingers were nothing in comparison to the girth of his cock.
It stings, making your eyes tear up, and drags whine after whine from your throat. Leon catches them in his mouth, swallowing them and shushing you while he continues to push in until he’s at the hilt. You babble out senseless ‘thank you daddy’s while he pulls back slightly, never separating your hips and his own by too much. His hips make a circular motion, grinding back into you slowly, pushing the trimmed light pubes at the base of him against your ever throbbing clit and making you squeal from the pleasure of it.
Assuming you had any doubts still lingering in your brain, they were shaken now. Assuming you had any shame over the inglorious reality that you’re on your back on the sheets with your step-dad inside you, your knees narrowly touching your chest, the pure ecstasy that you feel must have knocked the shame right out of you.
Leon’s cock stretches you perfectly, deeply, and you could feel him in your stomach as prominently as the butterflies. You thought his fingers reached deep, but this was on a whole different level. His large frame leans over yours and his breath is hot on your cheek. You feel close to him now, closer than ever before, and that thought sends you right to heaven. He feels so good, so perfect, so right. It’s everything you had imagined and once he starts moving, fuck, it’s so much more. 
He repeats it over and over, curved length of him dragging along your g-spot until you’re twitching, your mouth hangs open, sounds falling against his lips as he drinks all of them in. Your hips rise every few strokes trying to meet him, to egg him on to go harder, to give you more without having to ask for it, but he just won’t. Keeping his slow, sensual pace, as if he was fucking you at his own leisure.
Leon rolls his hips in and out, slowly and deliberately. Each time he fucks into you, he takes note of the moans that leaves your mouth, trying to adjust and hit the spots that drew the most noise. “God, fuck—so fuckin’ greedy, sucking me in. My pretty baby,” he stammers in between shaky breaths, his voice light and barely audible over your noises and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 
His pace quickens ever so slightly, and he folds your knees to your chest even more to bury himself in deeper. It’s too much to take, but it feels so fucking good, hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in. All you can do is whine for him to give you more. 
“Shit…” Leon reaches into his hair, brushing loose strands away from his face, before his eyes catch on something. He’s grinning then, unable to hold back a chuckle. You’re a bit confused, but he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to your stomach. He pulls out, then shoves himself all the way in, starting the torturing slow rhythm all over again. You can feel the shape of his cock there, feel how deep he is inside with your palm. 
He snickers. “You feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am?”
“Y-Yeah, Leon, just please, go harder,” you plead, and the neediness in your voice sounds like music to his ears. You’re so desperate for him, even when you’re overwhelmed. Even when you can hardly take what he’s already giving you, you’re asking him for more. You’re so perfect.
Leon abruptly pauses thrusting, pulling out. You couldn’t hold back a whimper when your cunt pulses from the sudden absence. There’s a sly smirk plastered on his face, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “That’s not my name.”
“Dad—Daddy,” your voice is high-pitched and desperate, helpless, “please, more.”
“Now you are begging for me,” Leon drawls from where he’s letting only the head of his cock rest just inside of you, tilting his head tauntingly when he feels your walls squeeze—try to lure more of him in so desperately as he toys with your clit beneath his thumb. “Thought this was wrong? Or was it disgusting?” 
“Daddy, please,” you drag out yet once again, impatience coursing through your veins right along with the small bits of pleasure he’s allowing you.
He’s fucking addicted to you like this, drawing out every inch of your desire until you are begging for it, so dumb and needy for the mind-numbing pleasure he’ll reward you with for being so good. 
And he realizes you love it too when he watches your thighs twitch, your blown-gaze glossing over until there’s tears gathering in the doe-eyed look you send him, and Leon coo’s with the first swipe of his thumb along the stray tear that trails down your cheeks.
“Aww... look at you. How sweet. You gonna cry f’me, sweetheart? Look real cute like this.'' He rewards you an inch, and it feels like a mile when he deliberately grazes it along the sensitive, plush spots in your walls that have you choking on a sob with your next please, daddy. 
“Got you cryin’ on my cock, better give you what you want, yeah?” His words are hissed from between his teeth, and fuck, he loves that wet cheeked little face you make, features scrunched when he starts a pace that’s not particularly fast, but it’s heavy enough to have you jolting beneath him as his hands grab at your waist to keep you in place.
And he’s so damn vocal, so much more than you expected he would be. He doesn’t attempt to hide how good he’s feeling at all, moaning at every thrust, at every clamp of your pussy around him. He teases you, praises you, like he can’t hold back from saying any and every thought that happens to enter his brain. 
You want me to fuck you deeper? Harder?  
Tell me. Let me hear you, don’t shut up on me now.
My poor girl, already so fucked she can’t speak.
Knew you had this in you. Just needed your dad’s cock to fill you up, huh?
Cry a little more f’me, baby. Such a pretty thing, I’ll even let you cum.
“Love you, love you so much,” you whisper drunkenly, lips dragging across his soft ones as you speak.
His hips stutter at your words, strong arms move from holding himself over you to grabbing the underside of your knees and pulling them slightly, wrapping your legs around him.
“Keep telling me,” he groans, his grip on your waist now growing tighter, white-knuckled, enough to leave marks of his fingertips. “Tell me I’m yours, say that you’re mine.”
Leon finally starts to go faster, harder, rougher than you wanted him to be, but you’re too drunk in the feeling of him to complain—hips still swirling into yours, pubic hair scratching against your bud with each push. The head of him presses deep against that spongey spot with each sway, heavy balls sticking to your leaked juices as you chant out the ‘i love you’s like a mantra, like it’s the only meaningful thing that you’ve ever said. It’s not long before your legs start to shake, his cock hitting all of the right nerves in your throbbing cunt.
“Don’t stop,” he repeats when your mouth drops wide open, orgasm creeping up on you. 
“Mine—You’re mine!” your vision turns white and your walls spasm around him. “‘m yours, all yours,” you whimper as the ache in your cunt becomes the pain of overstimulation.
“Only f’me, sweet girl. Yeah?” he asks and you struggle to stutter out anything coherent with how good you feel, the slight sting of overstimulation making you feel warm as Leon’s breathing becomes laboured and he finally spills hot and thick inside of you. But it’s filthy, when the back and forth stutter of his hips only seeks to push it deeper inside of you, a gooey ring of liquid forming around the base of his cock every time he draws his hips back before they sink into you with another louder squelch.
You don’t have enough strength to stay awake past that, all of your energy left with the last orgasm. At some point you wake up, you’re clean between your thighs and cuddled up on his warm chest. You shift only an inch and you could feel him jump awake to pull you closer, leaving a kiss on the top of your head before you drift back to sleep with a small smile on your face.
Leon can’t help but feel… strangely euphoric. Now that he’s coming to his senses, thinking more clearly about everything, he knows he probably, definitely shouldn’t have done this.
He’s made his choice. He made his choice to be selfish, and now he’s got to live with it, but fuck if he isn’t going to enjoy it for as long as he possibly can. A man like him doesn’t kick the bucket so easily. He’s through with complicating things, done hiding anything. He’s going to live for as long as possible, and it’s going to be with you, whether the damn universe likes it or not. 
But the world is better with a little self-indulgence, even if it hurts you, right?
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javigutierrez · 2 months
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Are you alright, Honey?
Javi Gutierrez x afab!reader oneshot
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Summary: You’re going on a long weekend with your gorgeous new boyfriend, and after a day of unresolved sexual tension out on a roadtrip you’re ready to jump him the second you get home. Unless he finds a movie at the gas station he had been looking for for years and he wants to watch it with you. Will you be able to mask your desire for him, to enjoy a movie that means so much to him? (Spoiler alert no you won’t)
Rating & Word count: Explicit | ~8500 words
Warnings/tags: fluffffff, freshly established relationship, pining like whoa, very explicit smut, f!oral, f!fingering, tons of nipple play, non-penetrative sex (sumata ig?), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, allusions to squirting, pleasure dom!Javi vibes, tw alcohol, tw food mention, Javi is a major dumb of ass but he makes up for it, reader has female genitalia, some boobs, and long enough hair to tuck it behind their ear but no other descriptions (let me know if you find anything else!), no age references
A/N: Here it is, after years of contemplating I'm posting my first fanfic in 12 years and my first fanfic in English ever. Please be kind, English is not my first language ❤ This is a huge thing to me, and I wouldn't have been able to get there without the help and encouragement of my lovely friends - I owe a kidney to @psychedelic-ink and @shellshocklove for their tremendous help as my betas, and to @iamasaddie @perotovar @chronically-ghosted @wannab-urs for listening to my bitching and moaning along the way and still staying my loyal cheerleaders 🥺 The whole idea popped into my mind like a movie while editing this gifset (which was inspired by @prolix-yuy’s Javi story, so special thanks to LJ 🥰), that 5th gif corrupting my mind for the next 2,5 months and this was the only way I could finally get it out of my system. 🤡 I hope you'll enjoy it! ❤
This was quite an eventful day. You spent your whole day out with Javi, having a road trip at Côte d’Azur. After a little bit more than a month of dating you had decided to go on a long weekend together, choosing the French coastlines. You had been absolutely amazed by the experience; clear azure waves embracing golden shores, the streets of seaside towns winding through history with beautiful architecture and warm colours, mountain tops lurking on the horizon behind the town. After Javi had told you he would get you into the Cannes movie festival, you were already talking about coming back for a few days. 
The sights were unbelievable and the food was delectable, but what really made the trip unforgettable was your new boyfriend. Spending time with Javi was so easy. With him, all your anxiety washed away - his sweet and caring personality was like a soothing balm for your soul, and with his fun-loving side, you really felt like living your life to the fullest. Not to mention how he showed his true colors in the bedroom. Absolutely devoted to your pleasure, he could be worshipping you, making you feel like a goddess, other times he would make you beg, then shower you with praises while he was giving you exactly what you needed. Who would have thought only a few weeks before, when​ you had started chatting with a stranger waiting in line at the cinema, that he would sweep you off of your feet almost immediately and turn your life upside down in the best way possible? 
There you were right now, coming home from another amazing day spent with him, laughing with him, staring at his profile while he was driving, smoothing out his sun-bleached locks tangled up by the wind in the cabrio while he was looking at you all doe-eyed and dopey-smiled. You were holding his hand, feeling his hand on your bare thigh, resting at the hem of your bunched-up sundress comfortably and sometimes you had caught him looking at you with the same intensity. It was safe to say, by the time you got in the car to get home you were ready to jump him. 
There was only one tiny thing you hadn’t calculated for when you had been planning your night (or rather imagining it dreamily from all angles): finding a DVD at a gas station. When his eyes fell on the item, he’d looked confused for a few seconds, but then taking it from the shelf and reading the cover his face lit up like a child’s in a candy store. 
As it turned out, it was an indie French movie he had watched with his parents back when he was young and they had been on a holiday. They had rarely spent quality time together, so he cherished those few occasions he’d felt like he belonged to an ordinary, loving family. He remembered the time fondly and he always wanted to find the movie because of the nostalgia of it all, but he had forgotten the title and didn’t know the actors, so after a lot of unsuccessful attempts, he’d given up trying. 
“Can we watch this tonight? Please?” He looked at you with big brown eyes, enveloping the DVD in his hands, (dwarfing it, really) and pressing it to his heart. And how could you say no to him? If he looked at you like that, you would have agreed to watch a 10-hour-long film about paint drying on a wall. 
“Of course, Javi,” you smiled at him gently, your heart melting from his child-like joy as you watched him gallop to the cashier to pay for the gas and the DVD. You pushed the slight disappointment of not being able to climb this gorgeous goofball of a man as soon as you get home, to the back of your mind. 
At the end of the day, you were genuinely happy to just spend time with him. You blamed your hormones and the fact that you were still in the honeymoon phase for being pent up all day. You couldn’t help it, but you are a big girl in an adult relationship, you decided, you can have one night without having sex with this tall, broad, gentle but surprisingly strong, passionate, generous, highly skilled–
“Let’s go!” he urged you with an adorable grin and shining eyes, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the gas station. Your heart swelled from the sight. Yes, you can have a peaceful night if it makes him happy, and you will be just as hyped to watch the movie as him. It did seem like a good movie based on the cover, and you knew it meant the world to him, so you wouldn’t spoil his fun with your neediness. 
By the time you got back to your rented house, it was already dark, and the early autumn weather had gotten a bit more chilly. Javi practically jumped out of the car (but still rushed to your side to open your door). 
You agreed that you would prepare the snacks and set up the TV, while he would start the fireplace and get a bottle of wine from the cellar. He gave you a soft peck on your lips, one hand resting on the back of your neck, then he pretty much ran to the cellar - you think you even heard him giggling on his way. His enthusiasm was infectious, even though you’d never even heard about the movie before, now you were excited to watch it.
When you found out how to get the DVD to work Javi was already tinkling with the logs on the fireplace, a bottle of wine with two glasses on the kitchen counter already. You let yourself get lost in the sight for a good minute, your cavewoman brain activated by looking at him focusing on his task with his arms flexing, but then you shook yourself from your reveries, going to the American-style kitchen to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and wash some grapes, then putting the wine on the coffee table next to the couch.
You couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at him. His short-sleeved shirt was now unbuttoned, hanging on his shoulders and your eyes fell on his white tank top straining over his torso. He seemed especially broad like this, and you couldn’t wait to cuddle with him and bury your face in his chest, kissing over the constellations of freckles on his shoulders and chest you were so familiar with by now.  
Once the fire was lighting, he looked at you proudly and you beamed back at him. The more his eyes were on you, the more his look grew softer. His gaze full of adoration made butterflies whoosh in your stomach - you were overwhelmed by emotions for this man, sometimes it even made you scared of falling too hard. 
“Are you sure you’re okay with watching this movie tonight, cariño?” He asked tenderly, his voice raspy and deep. He walked up to you to put his hands on your waist, caressing you with his thumbs and lowering his head to really look into your eyes. “I know these four days are supposed to be about the two of us.” There was no hurt or any malice in his voice, he was ready to drop the plan the second you said so. It felt like he was staring into your soul and suddenly you felt guilty. You obviously didn’t try hard enough to support him if he felt the need to ask and that made your guts tie up in a knot. You put your hands on the sides of his neck, then lowered them to his shoulders, then his chest. You never broke eye contact.
“Honey, I’m absolutely sure. We had a long day so a movie night is perfect to wind down and this movie seems super interesting! I swear, I can’t wait to start it already!” You rose on your tiptoes and laid an innocent kiss on his lips. He didn’t let you go, holding your face to deepen the kiss and a zap ran through your body as his tongue slipped between your lips to taste you. 
You felt his little huff on your upper lip, and you couldn’t resist the quiet moan that escaped your throat. The sound somewhat sobered you up, and you broke the kiss, feeling a little dizzy. He opened his eyes slowly, looking a bit disheveled himself. You had a mission to accomplish, you couldn’t get distracted all the time… you went back up just to give a small kiss on the tip of his nose, which made him smile bashfully, his eyes crinkling adorably. 
“Come on baby, let’s start it!” 
You grabbed the snacks, but he took them from you with a kiss on your temple, and you both headed to the couch. He put the snacks down on the table and plopped down on the L-shaped furniture as you went on a quick round to light some candles around the room, bathing it in warm colours. You started with the candles in the back and as you worked your way back up you caught him pouring wine into your glasses, then he started to explore the menu of the DVD to set up an English subtitle. With a small sigh, you allowed yourself to indulge yourself in his sight one last time while you were finishing up the candles. 
He quite literally took your breath away. His lovely locks you adored to bury your hands into so much, his eyes sparkling from the TV’s light and crinkled with a smile he probably didn’t even notice he had on his face. Your eyes followed the curve of his prominent nose and fell on his lips under his neat mustache. Those pouty lips... you had some vivid memories involving them. The man might look innocent, but he sure knew how to do sin when he wanted to. 
He leaned back with his legs propped up and reached out to you. You climbed on top of him and nestled yourself into his chest. He held you close to him, situating himself so you were sitting between his legs, resting your back on his chest. 
“Ready, cariño?” He hummed into your neck, pressing a small kiss there. Your blood sizzled under your sensitive skin. 
“Never been more ready! Let’s go!”
Javi started the movie and scooted even closer to you, if possible. Strong arms resting on your stomach, caging you in, he nuzzled your neck with a low hum, leaving a trail of kisses up your jaw, finishing with the softest of kisses on your cheek. You felt intoxicated, despite the untouched glasses on the table. His warmth was making your whole body melt, the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically behind you soothed you, and his cologne filled your nostrils with something warm and spicy and citrusy. But below all those layers it smelled uniquely like him, perfectly complementing his perfume. You would recognize it anywhere, after so many times of tasting his skin all over his body – it was the perfect concoction.
He was none the wiser about your… rather delicate situation, eyes glued to the screen, hands absentmindedly caressing your hips and stomach. You tried to focus on the movie, and you were able to catch glimpses of it and laugh at the jokes, but his touches kept distracting you. More often than not you caught yourself looking at his sinewy forearms, the golden watch on his wrist, and the ring on his pinky catching on your dress from time to time. You slowly traced the veins on his arms, and as you tried to focus on the screen again you played with the edges of his watch and ring. He gently caught your hand, intertwining your fingers and raising it to his face for a kiss on your knuckles. 
“Some wine?” He murmured sometime later. 
You were grateful for the opportunity, slightly going mad from the tension as you were stewing in your juices. He barely finished his question, you were already leaning for the glasses, handing him one. “Oo-kay,” he chuckled at your enthusiasm, albeit a little confused by your behaviour. He paused the movie and sat up at the corner of the couch. You were still between his legs, but you both positioned yourself to turn to each other more at the corner. His left hand held the glass, and his right was on your waist, keeping you close to him. His eyes were glazed over looking at your face and you could only imagine how ridiculously smitten you must have looked like. 
“For this perfect day, and for the unexpected gifts it has brought us,” he said, raising his glass. 
“For this perfect day, that is about to get even better,” you answered, making him grin with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 
You clinked your glasses and raised it to your lips, him barely tasting the wine through a sip, while you downed the whole glass. Leaning back against the backrest of the couch, you tried to look put together. The taste really was divine, and you had hoped it would help to calm your nerves a bit. Javi was visibly amused looking at you.
“You liked it, huh, cariño?” He asked, getting your glasses and putting them on the table leaning over your legs. 
You giggled in response, smiling shyly at him with a small shrug, “It tasted amazing, Javi. It was a great choice.” 
“I knew you would love this. Say the word and a box of these will be at my house by the time we get home,” he said, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears and kept his hand on the side of your face. 
“Consider it said.” You winked at him and he breathed out a silent laugh, but he tilted his head a little with a small frown between his brows, seemingly inspecting you. You had a feeling you had looked a bit nervous, only because you’d tried to clumsily mask your desire for him, wanting to give this night to him to enjoy a movie that meant so much to him but… you clearly weren’t succeeding. You knew he was about to ask you about it, so instead you grabbed the remote before he could speak. 
“Shall we?” You asked nonchalantly. 
His hand dropped from your face. “Of course,” he said. 
He shook his head a little, failing at figuring you out as he leaned back on the couch. You laid down in front of him so you could continue watching the movie while he spooned you, and pressed the play button. You’d hoped that with this new pose, there would be less temptation as you’re not laying on him anymore, but boy, were you wrong. 
He hoisted you closer to his body, his hand splayed out on your stomach, and kept you there, almost protectively. Staring at it, you dumbly wondered about how much smaller your torso looked under his hand than your own and that activated something primal in your mind again. You felt his crotch pressed up to your ass, and though he wasn’t hard, it made your cunt throb around nothing. It was so close, yet so far, and you weren’t allowed to do anything about it. Your guts twisted, and you wiggled every few minutes, pressing your thighs together, uselessly fighting the arousal that kept getting more and more suffocating. 
A few minutes later he nuzzled at the back of your ear, and the combined sensations of his breath in your ear and the soft tickle of his mustache and stubble made a shudder run through your body, followed by goosebumps everywhere.
“Are you alright, honey?” He murmured, looking at your profile. 
“Of course, Javi,” you said, not very convincingly. “Just trying to find the perfect angle.” You explained as you wiggled some more, still staring at the TV, as your thumb gently smoothed across his knuckles to soothe him. 
“Right…” he replied. 
Whatever he thought, he didn’t say anything else. 
However, a few minutes later the hand that had been on your stomach slowly wandered down, below the hem of your sundress, and he gently, but firmly lifted your thigh to fit his between your legs. The movement was so unexpected that you couldn’t hold back a small groan from the pleasure the friction gave you. 
“You sure you’re alright?” Javi asked innocently behind your back, his hand now smoothing over the bare skin on your thigh, leaving an electric feeling beneath your skin in its trail. Every single one of his touches made arousal pool between your legs. You silently cursed at your body for growing more and more sensitive, begging for him to come closer. 
“Yeah…” you practically squeaked. You were close to your breaking point. 
Javi only hummed, his hand stopping to rest it on your stomach again. You were fighting your instincts to rub yourself on his thigh for a few minutes, and you were proud of yourself for resisting, but then he moved between your legs a little, enough to give attention to your aching clit, and the hiss that escaped your lips made him come to a halt. 
It felt like the time froze for a few seconds, none of you daring to move. You, trying to take back control over your treacherous body, and him obviously assessing the situation. You mentally did a facepalm as you felt your wet underwear sticking to his pants. He didn’t say anything, but his hand moved down from your stomach and bunched up your skirt. He breathed out your name, almost admonishing, and it made your heart jump. His hand was dangerously close to where you wanted him the most, and as his palm covered your mound, thick fingers reaching your soaked panties, he buried his face in the back of your neck. 
“Oh, honey…” he choked. He took a deep inhale, smelling your scent, then suddenly sat up and paused the movie. 
“No, Javi, I was watching it!” You wanted to wince at yourself, your act was truly ridiculous at this point. 
“None of that, cariño.” He shook his head, turning you on your back with a firm hand on your hip. “You obviously need me, please let me take care of you.” 
“It really can wait, I don’t mind!” You protested. You wanted nothing more than for him to touch you, but you didn’t want to be selfish. 
“Well, I don’t want to wait!” He declared, his gaze burning you as it fell from your face, scanning your body splayed out in front of him. “What about this: I eat you out, then we can continue the movie. Would that be okay for you?” 
You stared at him like a deer caught in a headlight. Is he serious? But his words definitely affected you. 
“Please, cariño,” he continued in a gentler tone, his pleading eyes finding yours again. “Let me eat your pretty pussy, now.” 
That was the last nail in your coffin, you swore under your breath as you almost went cross-eyed from his words only. “Fffuck, okay… okay let’s do this” you croaked after a few seconds, your defenses crumbling like a house of cards in a tornado. 
“Atta girl,” he smirked, and in an instant, he was on top of you. 
His fingers found their way into your hair as he put his lips on you, the press of his body a comforting weight on you. His kiss was electric, hot, and sensual. He sucked your lips in with a primal hunger, his tongue licking against the seam of your lips, opening you up to him and claiming your mouth with dominance. You barely noticed the soft sounds coming from your throat, only when you felt the corners of his mouth curl up slightly in a smile. You felt like you had to anchor yourself as you gripped the back of his open yellow shirt so hard, it was protesting against your ministrations on his shoulders. 
“Mmmtake—this—off,” you whispered desperately against his all-encompassing kiss. 
Javi leaned back, his hair disheveled, to practically tear the shirt off of himself. With a huff through his nose, his eyes gazed at your kiss-swollen lips with hunger. You were out of breath from the intensity of the kiss, panting softly as you took in the sight of him. 
He still had his tank top on, your mouth already dropping from the show. His top only accentuated his wide shoulders and narrow waist, and his skin kissed by the firelight was glowing in a golden light, its colours and the way the lights and shadows exaggerated his features made you drool. You could never resist the freckles on his shoulders and chest either. If you weren’t already on the edge of insanity, you would spend hours kissing and biting along his torso, but now clearly none of you had the patience for that. 
He came back to you and started suckling on your neck, one of your hands flying to his back to weakly trace the ridges of his shoulder blade, while the other clutched his bicep. Keeping up his ministrations on your neck he gently bunched up your dress above your stomach. His thigh found its way back between your legs and this time you bucked your hips up shamelessly. He groaned as he felt your wet warmth staining his pants and his lips traveled lower. As he trailed your collarbone with the tip of his tongue between his lips, two of his fingers touched you through your panties and you moaned out loud. 
“Javi, please!” you whined as he trailed his middle and ring finger up your seam, and tapped on your clit through the soaked textile. You were so worked up, you felt your heart pounding in your ears. 
“Shhh cariño, I got you,” he murmured, his voice impossibly low and his breath burning your chest. 
His fingers never gave up, but he always kept his touches light, making you throb uncontrollably. You watched him move lower, and you couldn’t decide what to stare at: his lips and tongue molding against your fevered skin, or the dips and hills of his shoulders and biceps flexing as he kept himself up with one arm while torturing you with the other. He traced his tongue around your navel and he looked up at you as he licked over its valley, his fingers mimicking the movement below. He then had the audacity to send you a cheeky wink as your whole body shuddered.
“Fuuuck, stop teasing me, I can’t take it anymore!” you sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care at this point.
“Okay, baby. You earned it.” 
He consoled you quietly with a final kiss to your lower stomach, before hooking his fingers into your panties to slowly drag the piece down. If it was anyone else you probably would have felt awkward about how the fabric protested at first, sticking to your cunt, but with Javi, if anything, you felt powerful. 
He was visibly trying to compose himself as he gently helped you get both your legs out of the ruined piece and with a shaky exhale he scooted back. He shove a cushion under your ass as he laid down on his belly, navigating your thighs over his shoulders, eyeing your center with blown-out pupils. 
“I will never get used to this,” he mused to himself with wonder in his voice, as he splayed his hands across the crease of your ass to softly spread your cunt wide open with his thumbs. You felt his heavy huff on your pussy, and it made you twitch again. He looked captivated by the sight.
“Javi, I swear to go—oohhh my god,” Javi cut you off as the flat of his tongue licked a broad and firm stripe through your folds with a depraved moan.
Your whole body lifted up, and he hooked his arms around your legs, grabbing at the top of your thighs as he held you down, keeping you close to his ravenous mouth. He gave you a few greedy laps, slowly exploring all of your cunt before his tongue lazily went around your hole. Your muscles were twitching, your chest and neck aflame, and if his sight weren’t so hypnotizing you would have thrown your head back already. You felt boneless. 
Your abs shaking from the strain of keeping you upright, you grabbed a few cushions you could reach from your position, and shoved them under your head, angling yourself perfectly to watch him at work. He was licking at you tirelessly, mapping all your sensitive spots, before he started to fuck you with his tongue, slowly but deliberately grazing your walls all around. 
You let out a raspy moan at the sensation - he was the first person who had ever done this to you and you were still surprised by it every single time. The feel of his agile muscle prodding at your sensitive flesh made your vision blur and sweat gather around your temple. He went as deep as possible, and after an inhale he buried his nose in your clit, slightly moving it left and right. You felt him everywhere as if he was surrounding your entire body. One of your hands grabbed a cushion so tightly, it made your knuckles ache, your other hand finding purchase in his soft locks. 
You were scraping his scalp with your fingernails, and he practically purred, the sounds vibrating against your raw flesh, starting a fire in your guts as goosebumps erupted on your skin. You couldn’t help pulling at a handful of hair as your pussy spasmed around his deft tongue. His purr turned into a growl as he removed himself, gulping some air still a few inches away from your cunt. Your hands lifelessly plopped down around you. 
“Fuck, cariño, I won’t ever get enough of you,” his speech was slurred like he was drunk and he looked up at you with disoriented eyes. “You taste so good, I would happily drown in you.”
You wanted to react, you really did, but as he was talking one of his hands left your thigh and traced an invisible pattern down the apex of your thighs, fingers traveling through your cunt and gathering your juices, then reaching their destination, a thick digit slipping into you just when you wanted to answer him. Whatever you wanted to tell him, he rendered you speechless with literally a swipe of his finger. The cracking of the fire and the slick sounds of your pussy were the only noises around you, until you felt his mouth on you again. He lapped up the juices escaping you around his finger, sucking on your lips with obscenely loud noises. You wanted to cover your face because you suddenly felt self-conscious, but his free hand grabbed your wrist as you heard him call your name brokenly. 
“Please don’t hide away from me, I want to see your face as I bring you pleasure,” he pleaded, his accent a bit stronger than usual. 
The mere look of him was debauched, all messy-haired and shiny-faced, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. Your heart skipped a beat, and you held onto his hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your knuckles immediately. Your other hand smoothed his unruly hair out of his face, and he went back, keeping eye contact with you. 
“Look at me,” he rasped one last time before diving in.
He dragged his tongue up between your folds as his finger started moving again. He looked up at you the entire time from under his lashes, eyes half-lidded. As he reached your clit you jumped a little, and he opened his mouth wider so you could see his tongue moving against the tortured little nub with a small wiggle. You had to compose yourself not to let your eyes roll back, the sight somehow multiplying the already devastating sensation tenfold. 
“You’re so fucking good to me, Javi,” you uttered, caressing his hair and you could see a shiver running down his spine. “I’m so—so—“
“I know, mi amor, I can feel it. Let go for me.” 
He groaned and sucked your clit into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. You squealed, not knowing if you wanted to escape from his ministrations or let him consume you. You tried to trash around but his hands came up and covered the bottom of your stomach, holding you down again. You had half the mind to notice him slowly grinding onto the couch, but then you felt his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, along with his finger rubbing that perfect spot inside you again, and you felt like a lightning struck you. 
All your muscles seized up as white-hot pleasure coursed through your veins. At first, you couldn’t even breathe, let alone make a sound, but then a groan tore out from the depth of your chest and you fell back on the couch lifelessly. Javi never let up licking at you, prolonging your catharsis, not stopping even when you tried to squirm away from oversensitivity. 
“No, no wait—“ you pleaded with a shaky voice to no avail. Everything was too much, but you couldn’t escape from his iron grip. Javi greedily explored all your sensitive spots around your swollen vulva and hole with firm strokes, before he found the button of your clit again, sucking on it harshly dragging you under the waves of ecstasy for a second time that night with a squeak. His mouth was sucking at you relentlessly through the helpless spasms of your body, draining all the energy from you and filling your brain with fuzzy cotton. You fell back limply, muttering nonsense while his mouth gently cleaned you up.
You had no idea how long you were just laying there uselessly, basking in the afterglow with Javi still between your legs. His face rested on the plush of your thigh, his breathing slow but heavy, his eyes closed and his hands flexing. 
Once your wits came back to you, you noticed a faint dent on your thigh from Javi’s ring, a thought of how you wanted to tattoo it on your skin filled your mind – to keep it there forever. 
You played with his hair again, curling a silky strand around your finger by scraping little circles on his scalp. As if you woke him up from a stupor, he looked up at you, breathing now almost normal, but his pupils were still blown out. He wiped his face on your inner thigh, then kissed and sucked off the remnants of your wetness there and you giggled, his facial hair tickling you. He crawled up your body with a smile across his face, before he laid next to you. You immediately followed him, decorating the hot skin on his shoulders and collarbone with lazy, open-mouthed kisses. He weakly pawed at your waist to bring you closer to him, then dragged the bottom of your dress over your thighs to give you some decency. 
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he pondered and gently pinched your ass. You snickered as you playfully swatted his chest, before laying your head on his pecs. His heart was beating wildly and it made you swoon, so much so that you had to lay a soft kiss between his pecs, just above the hem of his top before nuzzling even more into his blushed chest, as a content sigh fell from your lips. Your gaze couldn’t help but fall to his bulge - he was visibly affected by your previous endeavors. 
“Javi…” you whispered in his neck, while your hand gently caressed his stomach. You felt his heavy exhale under you. “If you want… we can continue…” 
“Oh! Of course, cariño!” he said, perking up, reaching out for the remote control and pushing the play button again, eyes immediately glued on the screen. 
You laid there, having a mental tantrum. Well, things weren’t going the way expected. How can he still be thinking about the movie? 
Squashing that ugly disappointment down, you turned in his arms to try to focus on the TV again. You weren’t allowed to complain, he said he would make you cum and you would continue the movie, and he did just that and more. You couldn’t help the ravenous hunger you had for this man though, it was never enough of him. You laid a soft kiss on his bicep below your head and your arm reached behind to gently shove him back against you. He followed you diligently, but he tensed as his bulge, now hard, rested against your ass again. 
“I’m sorry honey, I’ll just need a minute,” he apologised quietly, voice strained from embarrassment and barely veiled desire. 
The devil on your shoulder took over you as you rolled your hips against him slowly but deliberately. The filthy sound coming from deep in his chest melted your bones, making it hard to keep back your own needy whine. 
“Wh—what are you doing?” 
His strong grip on your hip felt like a warning, but his voice was so weak. That’s what made you throw all your culture out the window, giddy roiling in your guts from feeling him get fully erect against you. You barely registered your hand moving mindlessly, grinding your palm against him. His hand clenched around your forearm easily, but he didn’t move it away. 
“I need you, Javi,” you begged shamelessly, turning your head back in his direction as much as possible. 
“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes closed shut with a loud gulp. When he opened his eyes again his gaze was intense, one of his hands cradling your face as he propped himself up on his elbow to look deeply into your eyes. “I thought you wanted to watch the movie…” 
That made you freeze with confusion, even your hand stopped moving over him. 
“…me?” You asked incredulously. “I mean yeah, it does seem like a great movie and I’d happily watch it any other time, but I couldn’t wait to be alone with you the entire day. I’ve wanted to eat you up since we crawled out of bed this morning. But I’m happy to do anything as long as I’m with you– and you looked so happy to find that movie… I don’t know… I just didn’t want to ruin your joy with my neediness, I guess” you confessed hastily with warm cheeks. 
A soft sound of surprise got stuck in his throat as he looked at you with saucer eyes, gaping like a fish. It looked rather comical if you were honest. If you didn’t feel so sheepish about your clumsy confession, you would have giggled at his expression. 
He shook his head lightly, as if processing your words. “So that’s why you were acting so weird tonight!” He exclaimed, relief evident on his face. He breathed out your name softly, his thumb caressing your face ever so gently. 
“I felt the same way the entire day. I got distracted by finding the movie, I give you that, but up until that moment, I was contemplating taking you in the bathroom in every single place we visited. Even in the car, consequences be damned,” he huffed, and you had to clench your thighs to alleviate the need growing between them again from the mental image. 
“Cariño, I have the DVD now, I can watch it whenever I want!” He tutted, “I swear, one day I’m gonna write a screenplay for you to be the lead in it, you’re such a talented actress. You seemed so eager to watch this movie that I felt guilty for trying to distract you,” he smoothed a strand of hair behind your ear with a chuckle, “I suppose both of us were fools…” 
You couldn’t hold back a rather unsexy snort at that, but it made him beam at you with crinkling eyes. 
He cupped your jaw and leaned over to press a sweet kiss on your lips, but it immediately grew hungry. The stark difference between his precious face and the taste of yourself still on his tongue made a shudder run through your body. 
Javi can really do both, you thought dreamily, but you were quickly snapped back to reality when he rolled you on top of him and deepened the kiss as he slowly sat up, helping you to position yourself on your knees around his hips. He planted his feet on the couch and grabbing your bare asscheeks firmly he dragged your pulsing center down on his bulge. 
Your hands flew to his hair, arms resting on his shoulders, feeling like passing out when you felt his cock twitch against your bare pussy, tearing a low hiss out of him. He bunched up and gripped your dress around your torso. 
“This little dress was teasing me all day,” he groaned, slowly pulling down the zip on your back, the edge of his thumb caressing your bare spine in the process. “It looks fantastic on you, honey, but I need to see all of you, right now.” 
By the time he finished his thought, he already tugged it off of you, your breast jiggling in front of his face from the impact of falling out of the secure hold of the dress, his heavy gaze falling to them immediately, your body now bare in his lap. 
“Oh god, look at you… tan bonita,” he murmured as his hands slid over your ribs firmly, before they slipped under your breasts with a feather-light touch. 
He cupped the mounds gently as his thumbs smoothly explored the skin. The pad of his fingers traced your areola, then softly rubbed over your sensitive nipples. You arched your back, leaking some more wetness on his trousers as you rubbed yourself heavier on him. One hand molded a breast into his waiting mouth, tongue wiggling around the achy nub and the other slipping down your shivering stomach, across the top of your thigh and teasing at your seam across your ass. 
The suckling sensation on your nipple, while his hand was prodding teasingly at your swollen entrance made you go insane. You had to center yourself around something. You clasped the back of the couch tightly, using it as support as you pushed your chest more in his face. Without hesitation, you vigorously moved your clit against his bulge, your head arched back in ecstasy.
His wrecked moan was the prize, your breast slipping from his lips as you watched a tremor course through his entire body. Once he came back to his senses he doubled down his efforts, nuzzling the other breast and sucking the pebbled nipple in his hot mouth. 
His tongue started to swirl around the hardened nub at the same time as two of his fingers drowned in your slick pussy, finding your most sensitive spot with devastating accuracy. Your mind went blank, and your gasps came out in hiccups. Your instincts took over as you were riding his bulge with trembling legs, chasing your blinding pleasure. You only had enough wits to sit back to undo his belt, ripping off his fly, and with his help, you were able to push his pants down his thighs, freeing his erect cock.
His hand grasped the base and gently tapped it against your sensitive clit, and your hips started moving again, trapping his length under your pussy as you continued to slide over him. He softly bit on your nipple in response which blazed off fireworks in your lower stomach, his other hand never stopping its brutal pace grinding against your most sensitive spot. You were so close to cumming you could practically taste it on your tongue. 
“Feels so good—,“ your voice was desperate, and he let out a wrecked moan around your breast. 
The soft pulling sensation, coupled with the warm, wet caresses of his mouth on your nipple, the expert touch of his fingers on your g-spot, and the tantalizing friction of your clit rubbing against the ridges of his cock, quickly sent you spiraling into a world of ecstasy and pleasure. You came with a wail, your back arching and eyes rolling back. You faintly felt Javi’s hands at the base of your back and along your spine, keeping you close to him while his eyes feasted on you falling apart for him. You fell back on his shoulders, weakly grasping at his elbows as his palms caressed your back and he showered your neck with small kisses, humming quietly between them. 
“You did so well, you’re fucking amazing,” he breathed against your skin, as you felt your pulse slow down a bit. He kissed a path down your sweaty chest and came back the same route. After some blissful peace, you felt his cock twitch against you and you whined. 
“Do you have one more in you, mi amor? We can rest,” Javi asked gently, his eyes searching for yours. 
Bless his heart, he made you come three times and he would finish the night here and there, hard as a rock. Your body was still buzzing and you felt sore from his thick fingers but one look at his sinful state was enough to get you in the mood again. 
His lovely locks were now sticking to his face, the perspiration on his chest only making him glow even more. His mouth was agape, plush lower lip kiss-swollen, and his dark eyes silently pleading with you. Instead of giving him an answer, you gripped the hem of his tank top and peeled the offending item off of him as he held up his arms, helping you and keeping his lustrous eyes on yours. 
Resting your hands on the top of his chest you kissed down his neck, between his collarbones. Sitting back lower on his legs, you could trace your tongue between his pecs and down to his soft stomach. You couldn’t help but kiss around his little belly, giving him a playful bite which made him jolt with a small laugh. Your finger traced the soft patch of hair below his navel, and understanding your silent request, he kicked down the remaining of his clothes while you kneeled on the side. 
You were fascinated as you watched his cock in all its glory, shiny from your juices, precum already leaking from the angry, red tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you were already in motion to have a taste for yourself when he stopped you, gently putting his hands around your arms. 
“It pains me to stop you, but the second I feel your mouth on me, I would be a goner.” His husky voice was layered with desire. “C’mere, I need to be inside you,” he added, and you almost jumped on him. 
You crawled back over his hips while he pumped his cock a few times, his veins bulging in his cock and forearms. It was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen and you filed the idea for later exploration. You went lower on him and he smeared his member over your slit, covering him in your juices generously again, then he prodded the head at your entrance. 
“Come on, cariño, let me feel you, please,” he growled, and you carefully descended down on him. 
You were over quite a few nights with him, but your pussy still struggled to accommodate his size, especially now that you were still sore and sensitive from earlier. The struggle felt like a pinch and you whined, but he cradled your face and kissed your forehead. 
“It’s okay honey, take your time,” he whispered and let you take the lead for the moment. 
He caressed everywhere he could reach. He sucked two fingers into his mouth and lead them to your clit, ever so slightly drawing circles around it. At first, it felt like a needle stab, but a few seconds later it turned into pleasure. You swallowed more of him with a quiver. You felt so full, even though you were still a few inches apart from sitting down completely. 
His tongue found your breasts again, laving at the skin with bites and kisses alternating between them, tongue chasing your puffy nipple with confident laps. When he sucked in your soaked bud to bite down on it your cunt bottomed out, swallowing his cock entirely as a fresh wave of slickness coated his base. He tore away from your glistening nipple, burying his face between your breasts with a heavy groan. 
“You’re so fucking tight around me,” he rasped into your damp chest. “You were made for me. And your skin is so fucking silky.” 
Just to prove his point, his greedy tongue made its way up your chest, across your neck and jaw and to claim your mouth in a hedonistic kiss, as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass; not to force you to move, but to ground himself. 
The kiss was a little clumsy, but no less toe-curling, his tongue exploring your mouth and teeth clashing as you started to rise and fall against him. You felt so full, as if he was in your guts. Your lungs burned as you felt more and more overwhelmed by the inferno in your body. You broke away from him only to lay back, hands grabbing his shins while continuing to move up and down on his cock. 
The new angle was exhausting, but it rubbed your insides from just the perfect direction, and your vision blurred from the sensation. From this angle he had the best view of his cock disappearing in your puffy cunt, then appearing again, covered in your juices. Javi was hypnotized by the sight, his mouth dropping, and eyebrows knitted tightly together. 
“That’s it, use me, just like that,” he grunted, trapped under your spell over him. 
Heavy-lidded eyes followed your every move, and as he reached out to touch your overworked clit again your thighs started to tremble so hard that you couldn’t continue gyrating against him. He swore under his breath as you throbbed around him another time, and you leaned over his body to grab his shoulders. 
He prompted you to rise higher on your knees above him as he secured his feet on the surface of the couch. One arm braced himself next to his torso, while the other slipped up your back to grab your shoulder from the back, and he started to pound into you mercilessly, stealing your breath. You could barely stay in place, so you grabbed the backrest of the couch as you felt tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. 
“Are you close, baby? I’m so close but I need you to come first,” he strained, seemingly every muscle in his body tensing from the exertion.
He looked like a sculpture of a deity from ancient times, especially when his head fell back, the thick column of his gorgeous neck on full display. You could only nod, not being able to even form a coherent thought anymore as your desperate whines became constant. He raised his head again - he couldn’t keep his gaze away from where you connected, his face almost looked angry from the concentration. 
“Fuckfuckfuck, rub your clit for me,” he roared, and you followed his order immediately. 
Almost as soon as you touched your clit, you started shuddering violently with a loud and raspy cry, tears running down your face as he kept grazing your g-spot with every powerful thrust. You felt possessed as your entire body short-circuited, and your ears started ringing. You faintly registered his load painting your walls as your throbbing core milked him dry, his growl echoing in your ears. 
You collapsed on him like a ragdoll, your sweaty bodies colliding as he kept you close to his chest. As you came back to your wits a few minutes later you felt raw and weak and vulnerable, but it was okay because Javi was there, embracing you with strong arms and gentle kisses across your face, swiping away your tears. His body was like a shelter as you clung to him with all your limbs and he kept you safe from whatever was happening outside of your bubble. 
“Are you okay?” He whispered, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as his hand smoothed over your hair while his body swayed you gently. 
“I’m… I’m more than okay,” you croaked, still feeling boneless as you weakly clasped into his body. “Thank you, this was a spiritual experience.” He huffed a small laugh at that. 
“You are incredible,” he cooed. 
You lazily nuzzled deeper into his neck with a hum, letting his scent calm your frayed nerves down. You stayed like that, limbs intertwined for a while, before Javi reluctantly pulled out of you, making the both of you groan as he gently helped you to lay on your back and he hurried to the bathroom in all his naked glory. 
He came back soon, but that little time was enough for you to realize that your thighs and mound were drenched. That explains the out-of-body experience. 
Javi sat down next to you, a warm and wet washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up with reverence, eyeing the marks he had left over your body. He seemed worried, but you wore them with pride.
“That’s very kind of you, but I think we will need to shower anyway,” you smiled bashfully, and he placed a smooth kiss on your forehead.
“I wasn’t sure if you had enough energy for that,” he rasped.
“If you help me, it won’t be an issue,” you sat up slowly, your coordination akin to a newborn foal, his hand held out to help you to stand. 
“Of course, cariño.” 
His warm eyes made your knees buckle, this time not from your physical activities. As if on cue, the credits rolled on the screen with a blaring sound, and both of you jerked your head in its direction with alarm, obviously forgetting about the movie going in the background the entire time. You looked back at each other with wide eyes, laughter erupting out of you at the same time.
“So, you wanna watch the movie when we get back home?” He snickered.
“Definitely!” You perked up at the prospect of spending more time with him after your getaway. Besides, now it was your mission to finally really watch the movie. “Unless you’ll need me again,” you added, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He chuckled and smacked your ass gently.
“I was hoping for that answer.”
—————
THE END.
Thank you for reading! Reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated ♥️
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shybunnie20 · 3 months
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Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
strangers to friends to lovers
★Teasers ★Locations ★My Masterlist
Summary: Eddie embarks on a new chapter after finally graduating. He expects to face a variety of hurdles that come with a change of scenery, but what he doesn't anticipate is falling head over heels for you.
Author's Note: Holy shit, I can't believe this is finally finished after 11 months. It’s the first time I've written smut in well over a year and I'm pleased with how it turned out (I couldn't have done it without the support of my beloved @eddiethefreakkmunson)
Location photos are linked above and in the fic at their first mentions. AU with no Upside Down, no use of Y/N, focuses on Eddie's POV, fluff and mild angst with a happy ending *wink wink*
Word count: 17.3k
Warnings: MDNI 18+! alcohol consumption/drunken behavior, subtly pervy moments, masturbation, fondling, dry humping, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), a little bit of praise & possessiveness, includes swearing.
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Eddie was determined to leave Hawkins for good as soon as he tossed his graduation cap to the sky. He didn’t expect how expensive a venture like that would be, so he devised a plan. For a couple of months, he would stick around to save up a financial cushion.
To pocket every penny possible, Eddie took up odd jobs around town like mowing lawns and painting fences. With every task completed, he army crawled his way toward living life on his terms. He didn’t expect it to take him well over a year to save up enough cash.
On this sweltering afternoon, the atmosphere is charged with the promise of new beginnings. The summer sun peeks out from behind the dense clouds and casts irregular shadows on the dirt road of Forest Hills.
His van is packed to the brim with boxes of his belongings. After mentally checking everything twice over, uncertainty twists Eddie’s stomach into knots. What if I have car trouble? What if I get lost? What if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?
Wayne descends the concrete steps and joins Eddie. He lets out a belly-deep sigh that speaks volumes. You’ll figure it out. You’re gonna find your way. Your best days are ahead of you.
There’s a hint of sadness in seeing his boy take this significant step toward independence. But beneath that sorrow, profound pride prevails within Wayne. Eddie’s dreams reach far beyond the boundaries of Hawkins. Sticking around here won’t do him any good.
Eddie looks at the man who’s been his rock; the one who used to rise before dawn to plate crispy bacon and fluffy pancakes, meeting Eddie’s needs before his own. The memories are vivid as he reflects on the milestones his uncle guided him through. Without a doubt, Eddie wouldn’t be half the man he is today if it weren’t for Wayne.
His beloved van sits atop the very spot where he once wiped out while learning to ride a bike without training wheels. “It’s time to be a big boy,” Wayne said, urging Eddie to muster some faith in himself.
Reluctantly, Eddie mounted his small bicycle and clutched the rubber handles. With a push to set him off, he experienced the fleeting thrill of accomplishment as he pedaled forward. He only made it a few feet before his balance wavered.
The bike wobbled, sending Eddie tumbling to the gravel. His knees and palms bore the brunt of the fall, and the sharp pebbles embedded themselves into his scraped skin.
Wayne isn’t exactly a ‘rub some dirt on it’ kind of guy, but he isn’t the coddling type either. He cleaned Eddie’s wounds, slapped on some bandages, and told him to give it another shot. Faced with his nephew’s tearful protests, Wayne emphasized that just because failure stings, it shouldn't deter him from trying again.
“I guess this is it then.” Eddie wipes beads of sweat from his brow using the back of his hand.
“Yep, looks that way. It sure will be quiet without y’here. I got so used to living with all that racket of yours.”
“It’s called good music. You should take it for a spin sometime, it’s way better than that honky-tonk shit you made me listen to growing up.”
“I like my honky-tonk shit just fine, thank you,” They share a laugh.
Wayne will undoubtedly miss their banter, but it’s their Sundays together that weighs the most on his heart. Occasionally, the summer graces them with a few perfect days—pleasantly sunny with a stirring breeze. That weather maintained an unspoken tradition.
When little Eddie moved in, he was struggling to find his footing and hadn’t spoken much. Wayne took him to a serene lakeside spot where the water gently lapped against the shore.
He cast his line into the water in pursuit of a crappie dinner, and six-year-old Eddie gleefully played with the live bait. Over the years, their dynamic remained largely unchanged. Wayne watched his bobber from the swaying dock while Eddie kicked back in a folding lawn chair. It was simple father-son time that didn’t cost more than an afternoon or two. As of now, those days are over.
“You sure you’re gonna be alright without me, old man?”
Wayne shrugs and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “I suppose I’ll manage one way or another.” 
“Take care of yourself,” Eddie says firmly.
“Will do. Oof-” Wayne chuckles when he’s abruptly hugged. He smooths over the back of Eddie’s head with his calloused palm.
The men hold onto one another, their unspoken sentiments conveyed in the silent embrace. They exchange a pat on the back before parting.
Wayne’s eyes follow his nephew as he closes the rear doors and makes his way toward the front of the van. “Eddie, one last thing. Remember to take your chances while ya got 'em and strike while the iron’s hot. Don’t let nothin’ pass ya by.”
Offering a firm salute, Eddie hops up and settles into the driver’s seat.
With Hawkins in the rearview mirror, Eddie sets off. Chicago may not be the sprawling metropolises of New York or Los Angeles, but it’s a world apart from his hometown.
It’s far enough away to provide a much-needed change of scenery, yet close enough that he can move back home if things go to shit.
The drive goes smoothly overall with a couple of instances of getting turned around. By the time Eddie is finished with the long hours on the road, he’s bone-weary.
His new place may not be the epitome of luxury, but it’s a roof over his head and that’s all that matters. After lugging his things to the fourth floor, Eddie can finally consider himself moved in. His apartment lacks furniture and decor, but it’s a space he can call his own.
The throbbing of an unbearable intensity plagues his thighs, a fiery reminder of the multiple flights of stairs conquered. He collapses onto his twin mattress and emits a low groan. The sound bounces off the bare walls and echoes through the studio apartment.
Eddie starts noticing the difference in sounds around him. Gone are the barking dogs and tires rolling over gravel. His fridge hums like the one in the trailer, which is nice, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out the argument happening in the unit above his.
When the noise finally subsides, he hopes to catch up on some much-needed sleep. But just a few minutes later, the ruckus rekindles. In a bid for tranquility, Eddie clutches his pillow to his ears to block out the animalistic makeup sex seeping through his ceiling.  He’s praying that the man is a two-pump chump because this is a lot for a first night. Hell, it’s too much for any night.
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In a matter of days, Eddie has already encountered a series of issues. Whenever he tries to use hot water, his shower head screeches like a banshee. And the upstairs neighbors? They wear bricks for shoes and have a hoedown at 2 a.m. on a nightly basis; that is, if they’re not at each other’s throats.
Job hunting has been fruitless. The gas stations, car washes, and tobacco shops turned him down for the same reason: no documented experience. This means that he’s going to be stuck with the makeshift bed frame he came with for a while, which is just wooden planks zip-tied together. He’s not sure how long it’ll be able to withstand his tossing and turning.
There’s good news, though. Eddie refused to succumb to defeat. Today, he strolled past a tattoo parlor and impulsively checked it out. When he approached the counter, Eddie was met by an imposing man with a rather unwelcoming demeanor. In spite of feeling a bit intimidated, he greeted the man warmly.
As expected, the shop owner Cliff, did not reciprocate. When Eddie inquired about job openings, Cliff promptly replied with a curt “no.” Eddie’s tone grew desperate and he nearly pleaded. Cliff became irritated and offered a non-existent custodial position just to get Eddie to shut up and leave.
Currently sprawled on the rickety mattress, Eddie holds Mr. Pickles in the air and looks up at him. His trusty plushie is a bit worse for wear, having had his seams sutured with crimson battle vest thread.
“We’re doing it, buddy. We’re finally doing it.”
Shortly after moving in with his uncle, he had trouble falling asleep in the unfamiliar trailer. Wayne, hoping to provide comfort, gifted Eddie the stuffed bunny. It swiftly became a treasured part of his life, symbolizing safety and support—two things he hadn’t received much of up to that point.
The floppy-eared companion got its name from Wayne’s favorite snack. Whenever his uncle would pop the lid on a fresh jar of pickles, young Eddie would erupt into a fit of laughter. He insisted that Wayne was going to transform into a pickle due to how fast he blows through a jar.
In his twenties now, Eddie still cuddles with Mr. Pickles every night. If his pal could talk, he’d tell him how proud he is. Eddie rolls onto his side and nuzzles the bunny’s worn fur. That smile lingers on his face while he drifts off to sleep, now with a sense of hope for the days ahead.
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The time has come. Eddie has worn through his entire wardrobe and needs to make a trip to the laundromat. Having a washer in the trailer was something he didn’t fully appreciate until now.
Taking a quick look around his apartment, Eddie spots a cardboard box that’ll suffice in lieu of a laundry basket. He fills the box with the scattered clothes from the floor, slips on his sneakers, and makes his way out onto the street.
Nestled in the heart of his neighborhood, Eddie arrives at his destination. The air carries an overwhelming fresh scent of detergent. It’s not bustling by any means; there are only a handful of people here.
Compared to those who are well-versed in their routine, Eddie feels out of place. He chooses an available machine and plops his box of dirty clothes on the counter behind him. He inspects the front-loading washer, not versed in its functions and operation. Eddie goes to open the machine’s door but it refuses to yield.
His patience wanes with each futile tug. Just as frustration peaks, a sudden realization dawns on him, prompting a blush to sweep across his cheeks. There’s a lock hidden on the flip side of the handle.
With the press of his thumb, the lock disengages and the door screeches open. Hot under the collar, Eddie hastily scoops up his clothes and stuffs them into the damp drum. He slams the door shut with a mechanical click, the sound signaling the lock relatching. 
This place lacks helpful signage, to say the least. The only one here displays the cost of running a cycle, but there’s nothing to guide newcomers through the process.
Eddie pulls out his wallet to retrieve a few quarters. After inserting them, he figures out the detergent tray without much trouble. But as Eddie presses the START button repeatedly, increasing his force with each press, the machine stubbornly refuses to respond.
“You have to choose a setting.”
Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice, his brows arched and mouth hanging open. “Huh?”
You walk over from the adjacent wall of driers a few feet away. “It won’t start unless you select a wash setting first.”
He looks at you like a deer-in-the-headlights, so you step in and set the machine to delicate for him. The washer springs to life and water begins to fill the drum.
“Ah, that makes sense,” Eddie says while rubbing the back of his neck. “These are so different from the one I had back home.”
“Where’s home?” You ask, resuming your task of folding your clean laundry on the nearby counter.
Eddie is visibly taken aback by your continued engagement. “A town in Indiana that you’ve definitely never heard of,” He starts to fidget with the detergent jug’s cap, though it’s already sealed.
Suddenly, Eddie feels self-conscious about his appearance. Talking to a cute girl wasn’t on the agenda today, he didn’t dress for this. He regrets choosing function over fashion; his denim shorts are an old pair of Wayne’s jeans that he cropped to wear while mowing lawns. The raw hems are messily frayed and the light blue is darkened with grass stains.
“Indiana, huh? You’re a ways from home then. What brings you to The Windy City?”
Eddie’s attention lands on your pile of clothes, subtly assessing your wardrobe choices. “Uh- just needed a change of pace, I guess.”
“Chasing the dream, right? Figured Chicago had more to offer?” You peek at him, catching his stare fixed on a pair of underwear at the top of the pile—a standard white cotton panty, nothing worth ogling.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, his posture stiffening when you make eye contact. He swallows hard, averts his gaze, and shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. “Something like that.”
“Did you bring your band with you?” You take the undergarment in question and fold it, seemingly unfazed.
As you move the folded pile into your laundry basket, his clothes start thumping inside the machine, causing suds to splash against the glass window. 
Eddie’s brows knit together. “How’d you know I have a band?”
“You’ve got the look,” You remark as your eyes travel over him.
He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is that so? Do enlighten me, what’s the dead giveaway?”
“Your hair,” You suggest charmingly.
Eddie swishes his brunette curls like a lady in a shampoo commercial. “Too predictable?” 
“I’d say it’s on brand. Let me guess, Slayer? Maybe a little Dio or Megadeth?”
Eddie narrows his eyes at you before looking down at his shoes. “Jesus Christ, you’re reading me like a goddamn book.”
You cock your head to the side, playfulness tugging at your lips. “And if I were to look for this book in a store, what name might I find it under?”
“Eddie,” He lets his arms fall to his sides. When you tell him your name, it bounces around in his head. How pretty, he thinks.
After lifting your full laundry basket, you step away from the counter. “Good luck with the dryers. Oh, and just a heads up, those doors lock too. Don’t go yankin’ the handle off unless you’re looking to take home a souvenir,” You giggle to yourself as you walk out of the laundromat.
Eddie’s mouth hangs open while he watches you leave. Once you’re gone, his attention drifts to the nearby bulletin board. Among the various flyers, one advertises an open mic night. He decides that he’ll check it out sometime this week.
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At Double Barrel Bar, Eddie is swallowed by a sea of mainstream nonconformity. The bar-goers are dressed similarly to him, and while the crowd is mostly younger people, they’re still a touch older than him. 
A symphony of clinking glasses and animated chatter collides with the thunderous live metal music. The dense haze of tobacco smoke and the distant clatter of pool balls only enrich the ambiance. The walls are adorned with framed music memorabilia and band posters, a mix of global icons and local talents.
Eddie is enveloped with nostalgia. This place reminds him of the gigs he used to play with Corroded Coffin, although they never played for an audience this size. Staring at the stage, he questions whether he could engage such a crowd and persuade them that he’s worth listening to.
Between two other men at the bar, Eddie takes a seat.
Lee, the bartender, greets him. “What can I get ya?”
Eddie shrugs and hooks his sneakers beneath the rung of the stool. “I'll take a cold one, whatever's cheapest.”
“You got it. Bottle or tap?” Lee wipes his hands on the white rag draped over his shoulder.
“Bottle is fine.”
Lee retrieves a bottle of beer and deftly pops the cap before sliding it over to Eddie.
His fingers curl around the icy glass, the condensation cool to the touch. Eddie’s plump lips wrap around the bottle’s rim and he takes his first sip. The crisp liquid trickles down his throat, offering a short-lived remedy for the stuffiness of the room. 
As Lee tends to another patron, Eddie fidgets in his seat, causing the flier in his back pocket to crinkle. “So, you host an open mic?”
“Yeah, Thursday through Sunday. Are you any good?” Lee asks.
Eddie flips his guitar pick necklace between his fingers. “I like to think so. I guess you’d have to ask the ants in my kitchen, they’re the closest thing I've had to an audience lately.”
Lee snorts. “I've got a good feeling about you, I’m gonna reserve a spot.”
“Oh, uh- you don't have to do that.”
Lee waves his hand in dismissal and gathers the abandoned glassware from the now-empty seat beside Eddie. “No pressure, just swing by on Thursday if you’re interested.”
The opportunity intrigues Eddie, but performing alone is uncharted territory. Contemplating the offer, Eddie grapples with a cloud of self-doubt looming over his decision.
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It’s been two months, and his routine is now established. Each day brings progress and a sense of reward, even though there have been occasional hiccups along the way.
Surviving the sweltering summer with a broken AC was sheer hell. He found himself spending ample time nude in his apartment or standing in front of the open freezer compartment of the refrigerator; sometimes simultaneously. Fortunately, September has arrived, and the temperature has begun to wind down.
Managing expenses requires a frugal approach, given the modest pay from his custodial job. Eddie resorts to taking power showers and using candles to keep his utility bill low.
Sometimes he forgoes meals to keep an extra couple of bucks on hand. But when he does eat, he opts for saltine crackers slathered in butter, bologna sandwiches, canned soups, and plain noodles. Occasionally he treats himself to store-bought pasta sauce, though it’s still the saddest spaghetti known to man.
Eddie faces skepticism from the seasoned artists at the tattoo shop, all military veterans who view him as an arrogant kid. Their perception fuels his determination to prove himself. To earn their respect, he’s dedicated to cleaning more thoroughly than he ever has in his life.
He’s become keenly observant, absorbing every detail of the professional tattooing process, despite never being included in those conversations. Within the circle of artists—Ace, Lunchbox, and Dozer—Eddie gravitates toward Ace, who becomes a mentor. Seeing Eddie’s genuine enthusiasm, Ace asks about his drawing abilities. 
Although Eddie’s sketchbook is brimming with fantastical creatures, Ace can recognize a young man’s raw ambition and desire for direction and purpose. He takes Eddie under his wing, allowing him to learn the medium while on the clock.
After taking Lee up on his offer, Eddie found himself on stage every Thursday night. His performances were rusty, as he hadn’t played in front of anyone since before he was working his ass off to get here.
As he strummed through the jitters, Eddie rediscovered the sanctuary that music had always offered. It felt like a part of him had resurrected, reviving the passion he sorely missed.
Playing Thursday nights may not rake in tips like the weekends would, but he’ll take what he can get. Eddie’s been saving up for some pre-owned furniture, and he’s happy to snag any extra cash he can for it.
Life is good right now. The worry about moving back home has lessened, and he’s genuinely amazed at how smoothly things are going. Just when Eddie thought things couldn’t get any better, a Saturday night slot opened up at the bar.
It would be twice as busy, packed from wall to wall with people who could bare witness to him fucking up. Doubt crept its way in, but when Lee mentioned that Eddie could pocket thirty-five bucks or more by the night’s end, it was a no-brainer.
Tonight marks his debut Saturday gig. Stepping through the red brick archway and out onto the stage, the creak of the rustic boards beneath his feet sends a ripple up his legs. Eddie hasn’t even made it to the mic and he’s already forgotten what foot he’s supposed to be stepping with next.
Beneath his t-shirt, his back grows slick. A lump lodges itself in Eddie’s throat, causing his voice to crack when he introduces himself to the room. Amidst the overlapping conversations and the flushing from the nearby restroom, the amassed noise seems muffled. The strong winds in his head distort the sounds, whirling like a twister.
Eddie hooks his guitar up to the amp and forces himself to take a deep breath. As he tunes his instrument, the upheaval begins to settle. Gradually, Eddie finds unity with his guitar and concentrates on perfecting the tone.
Throughout the performance, there’s a persistent undertow of nerves refusing to fully subside. In spite of his efforts to lose himself in the music, his fingers occasionally falter as they dance on the strings.
At the end of his set, Lee can be heard whooping and hollering over the sparse clapping. With a sense of relief, Eddie packs up and makes a beeline for the bar, eager to ease the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Normally, the rush is akin to a high, but this time around it’s so intense that he’s dying to dial it back a notch.
He splurges and orders something a bit fancier than his usual bland beer. Why not celebrate a little? Eddie claims a recently vacated table in the bustling crowd, seating himself on the leather stool adorned with studs. His eyes roam the room while he takes a swig of his drink, savoring the superior crisp taste.
His attention zeroes in on a figure just feet away, a quick recognition igniting in his mind. Eddie recognizes you instantly, due to the scarcity of memorable encounters he’s had.
Eddie observes from afar, observing your mannerisms as you execute your waitressing duties. You must only work weekends, which would explain why your paths haven’t crossed again until now. When your eyes meet his, a shock shoots through his body.
He sits in rapt anticipation as you make your way over. Time seems to stretch unbearably from your previous spot until you finally stand opposite of him, separated only by the circular wooden table.
A courteous smile graces your face—a skill that waitresses must master if they want to pay rent. “Ready for another?”
Eddie stares back at you. His eyes drift down to the almost full beer bottle in his hand. The cogs in his skull are scraping, unable to put the words you’ve said to him in a comprehensive order. He nods without making a peep.
You pivot to leave, but then turn back to him and lift a brow at his unaltered dumbstruck expression. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you don’t look it.”
He remains silent and shakes his head sheepishly, feeling foolish for agreeing to another beer and then changing his mind just because you asked again. Is there more dignity in being indecisive than a bumbling mess?
“You were just singing up there for nearly an hour,” you call him out, folding your arms and tucking your serving tray against your side. “I know you can talk.”
Eddie clears his throat, but he ends up making an odd sound. “Uh, my throat’s a bit sore, that’s all.”
“Did you forget to do your vocal warm-ups or what?”
“It probably sounded like I did,” Eddie laughs, the self-deprecation evident.
“Not at all, I thought you were great.”
“You did?” Eddie’s lips curl at your compliment. Heat blooms on his cheeks, amplifying the full-body perspiration. He takes a casual sip from his beer, a guise to moisten his dry mouth and escape your intimidating gaze.
“Totally, you really come alive when you’re up there,” you rest your forearms on the table’s edge. “Is it just Eddie, or do you go by a stage name?”
No way. There’s no fucking way that you remember him, his face is so forgettable it’s not even funny. Lee had to have said something about who was filling the Saturday night spot. Eddie is inwardly thrilled to hear his name roll off of your tongue, but he tries to maintain his composure. “I suppose not, I guess I never thought about it.”
“You could pull it off, it suits the whole ‘one-man show’ thing you’ve got going on,” You say while giving him a once-over. The intrigue on your face is unwavering as you walk away.
He’s drunk, he has to be. Or maybe his drink was spiked somehow. The room is spinning and he feels nauseous as all hell, despite only having taken a few swigs from his beer.
A short while later, Eddie’s bottle is half-empty as he sits, continuously replaying the moment in his mind. More specifically, he can’t stop thinking about the sparkle in your eyes; he’s never seen anything like it.
He snaps back from his daydream at the sight of your return, this time with an unopened beer in hand. Eddie looks nothing short of puzzled as you slide it across the table toward him. “Uh, no thanks, I’m-”
“Relax, it’s not for you. I’ll be clocking out in six minutes. I wanna hear more about that small town of yours. I mean, as long as that’s okay with you. I understand if you have other plans tonight.”
“No!” Eddie exclaims. “I mean, yes it’s more than okay, and no, I don’t have anywhere to be.”
You glance downward while scuffing your shoe against the floor. “Okay, cool. Keep it cold for me then?” 
“Yeah, for sure. You can count on me.”
Shit shit shit. How is he going to keep this beer cold? Of course, ways to heat it flood his mind. If you come back to a lukewarm beer, that’ll be the end of him. He’s going to fuck this up and any chance of getting to know you will be squashed.
When you join him again, your drink is still cold and the bottle has left a ring of moisture on the paper coaster. Eddie’s unsure of how he managed to not lose it; if he’s capable of anything, it’s misplacing something when his only responsibility is to keep it in his possession. 
As you slide onto the stool beside him, you’re quick to inquire. You ask him typical ice-breaker questions at first, and Eddie responds with a plethora of details. At times, he goes off on tangents. You don’t appear bothered by it.
Eddie talks about his ability to learn how to play songs by ear, and he delves into the intricacies of his favorite Dungeons & Dragons campaigns that he’s created over the years. He earnestly tries to convey its depth to you and throughout his ramblings, he doesn’t miss the concentrated look on your face as you try to keep up.
Lee is nearing the end of his cleaning routine and the other waitresses have left for the night. Neither of you is aware that the bar is devoid of a crowd, scorching lights, and blaring music.
Eddie has been too busy asking you about your origins and passions, his wide eyes and attentive demeanor affirming his genuine interest. Just as he mentions working at the shop and you’ve asked him how many tattoos he has, you’re interrupted.
Lee stands beside the table, armed with a damp rag and a spray bottle. “Awfully hard to wipe the seats when your asses are still on them. Scoot your booch,” Lee instructs by motioning toward the entrance.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate to slip off his stool. You, on the other hand, take your sweet time.
“Have a good night,” You say and give Lee’s shoulder a friendly pat.
Uncertain of his next move, Eddie hesitates while you make your way to an unmarked door. It’s half past two in the morning, and he feels a tug of concern about you leaving by yourself.
There’s a very good chance that you’d consider him clingy or intrusive if he waits here. Eddie opts to stand outside. He props himself against the building and idly nudges a loose chunk of concrete with his shoe to keep himself occupied. Soon after, you emerge into the night.
The slam of the heavy door prompts him to straighten up. “Hey.”
“Oh, I thought you left,” you admit and adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “Thanks for telling me about Hawkins the Hell Hole.”
“The pleasure was all mine. Do you, uh…” Eddie inches forward, his Reeboks scraping loudly on the pavement. “Would you like me to walk you home? It’s pretty late.”
“I don’t live far, it’s just a few blocks.’
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around then?”
Your eyes twinkle brighter than he’d previously seen. “I’d say the odds are in your favor.”
“Goodnight. Get home safe,” He says with a half-hearted bow.
“Likewise,” You reply, biting back a giggle.
Eddie watches you fade into the darkness along the unlit patches of sidewalk. Once you’ve turned the corner, Eddie smiles from the surreal sensation of floating on clouds.
In this moment, the feeling of joy is so potent that it’s borderline palpable. He’s the embodiment of elation, a soul soaring high. It’s a feeling he wishes he could bottle up and carry with him forever.
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The next Saturday plays out much like the previous one, save for one detail: it’s considerably tougher to concentrate on stage knowing who’s in the audience. Post-performance, the routine echoes that of the prior week. The two of you gravitate toward the same table as before, establishing it as the one you’ll always sit at.
At first, a hesitation lingers before diving into more personal topics. However, as the night progresses and more beers are consumed, you seamlessly fall into them. Eddie weaves elements of drama and romanticism into his past, making it utterly engrossing for you to listen to.
When you propose getting together outside of the confines of the bar for the first time, Eddie eagerly accepts your invitation to show him around since he has yet to do any sightseeing.
Eddie is swept up in an exuberant wave of boyish excitement, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He never experienced it during his teenage years like the average person. The sheer thrill of having an instant connection with a girl is an entirely new feeling for him.
Week after week, your laundry days are synchronized and you’ve started the habit of making silly faces or giving each other the finger just because. During the late nights spent together at Dove’s Diner, Eddie finds enjoyment in seeing you eat. It’s a peculiar fascination, but it makes him happy. Seeing you completely at ease while enjoying greasy food is endearing to him.
When he arrived in Chicago, Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to move back to Hawkins. Even so, he wasn’t experiencing the same comfort here as he did in that cramped trailer.
There was a longing for familiarity that he had in his old surroundings. Eddie didn’t want to have to go back home in order to feel that sense of belonging again. He had his doubts about ever truly adjusting to life here until you came along. In your company, the foreignness of the city fades away, replaced by that feeling he’s been missing.
Several times, he’s been working in his sketchbook, adding to the pin-up style figures and faces that bear a striking resemblance to you. While engrossed in drawing, he hadn’t picked up on the similarities. But when he absentmindedly drew a simple heart, that's when it occurred to him.
Eddie like-likes you.
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As your shift comes to an end, you head to the back room to gather your belongings. Eddie stands idly at your claimed table, picking at his hangnails while he waits.
“When’re you gonna ask her out?” Lee asks while tidying up nearby.
Eddie laughs heartily at the idea. “How about never.” 
“You should. I can tell she’s into you.”
“Yeah, right. I don’t stand a chance.”
Lee puts down his spray bottle and looks at Eddie. “Listen, I’ve known her for a while now. Trust me on this,” he dumps a used ashtray out into a trash bag.
Eddie emits a noise of disbelief, his mind flickering back to the painful lesson he learned in his youth—he’s no one's type. Lost in reflection, he doesn’t realize you’ve returned with your sweatshirt draped over your bent arm.
Despite the tiring evening, you're upbeat in his presence. “Okay, I’m ready! I was thinking we could get some takeout and watch TV at my place.”
“Sure, I could eat,” Eddie says with a grin. Lee is shaking his head, looking particularly smug.
Your apartment is the polar opposite of Eddie’s, the difference is like day and night. It has a homey atmosphere and there’s a notable absence of wear and tear. He does have band posters, framed personal photos, and furniture, but they fail to create the same inviting ambiance that your apartment effortlessly exudes.
Seated beside Eddie on your couch, you tease him. “You’re terrible at this.”
“I’m trying!” He attempts to mimic your technique, but the piece of chicken repeatedly falls from his chopsticks.
“I can see that,” you stifle a laugh. “And you’re total shit at it.”
Out of frustration, Eddie impales his sweet and sour chicken with both sticks.
Glancing your way, he catches you smiling ear to ear, watching him. Eddie smiles back as he chews. “What? This way works just as well.”
You laugh and refocus your on the TV while resuming your meal. Eddie swears that you’re sitting closer to him than when you first sat down. Your thigh is almost touching his and your shoulder is just as close.
The paranoia subsides as he gets lost in thinking about how he can feel the heat radiating off of your bare thigh. But Eddie’s pulled back to reality when your chopsticks cut across his vision and dig into his takeout box.
He doesn’t mind, not really; sharing is caring. Having said that, when you lean over to look into the box, your shoulder bumps against his. A particularly appreciative sound escapes your lips, one that’s borderline pornographic.
“That’s really good, I’ll have to get some next time,” you hum and place your takeout box on the coffee table. “Or I could just keep stealing yours, it tastes better that way.”
Eddie is frozen, eyes unblinking. As you return to your spot on the sofa, you’re unquestionably closer this time. Your beautiful skin is on display in those shorts of yours and your bare thigh is brushing against his own. He could choke on air right now if he were still breathing.
You look over at him, your brow furrowed. “You good?”
“Yeah, yep. All good,” Eddie avoids making eye contact and stares blankly ahead. “Peachy keen.”
“Okay, weirdo,” you brush off his abrupt awkwardness and scoot toward the edge of the cushion. After gathering your trash, you look at him. “All finished?”
“Mhm,” He replies weakly and extends his box toward you.
With your arms full, you head into the kitchen, leaving him by his lonesome in the living room.
Eddie releases a heavy sigh and drags his hands down his face. Your absence allows him to reenter his body, but it only makes him keenly aware of his not-so-subtle half hard-on that’s outlined through the thin fabric of his shorts.
His eyes widen in alarm and panic takes over. “Shit!” Frantically brainstorming ways to conceal it, Eddie spots a fuzzy blanket at the far end of the couch and he retrieves it, draping it over his lap. While he tries to make himself look as casual as possible, he catches a glimpse of your approaching shadow just before the kitchen light is switched off.
In the few seconds he has left, Eddie tries out various hand placements, but none feel quite right. Every position feels forced and conspicuous.
As you stride back to the couch, your sweet expression eases some of the tension in his bones. “I got a bit chilly,” Eddie blurts out, hoping to preempt any impending questioning. “Is it okay if I use this?”
“No, I’m totally gonna tell you that you can’t use a blanket for its sole purpose.”
Eddie laughs nervously, “Alright, alright.”
This is arguably worse, being wrapped in your scent. It’s awfully hard not to get any harder when your natural smell is flooding his head. It’s intoxicating, and he finds himself inhaling deeply to capture as much of it as he can.
“What’d I miss?” You ask while plopping back down beside him.
The continuous movement causes Eddie to clench his back molars together because an image surges before he can even think to suppress it. He’d bet all the money he has that you’d look stunning on top of him. There’s fantasy looming alongside the image; Eddie wonders what you look like beneath your clothes.
“Nothing, you didn’t miss anything,” He mutters. When you start to squirm against the back of the couch, Eddie shoots you a questioning look. “You got ants in your pants?”
You huff, “No, there’s an itchy spot on my back. Could you scratch it for me, please? It’s driving me nuts.”
“Oh, um, sure,” Eddie fumbles for words as you angle yourself and present your back to him. “Where is it?”
“Right between my shoulder blades.”
Eddie’s eyes zero in on the outline of your bra strap that’s visible through your shirt across your back. Given his luck, that would be the target. Just to be cautious, he starts by scratching at the higher middle part of your back.
“A little lower.”
Eddie swallows hard as his fingers tentatively inch their way down. His belly begins to swirl the closer he gets to the clasp, but thankfully, you stop him just before he reaches it.
“Right there! Yeah, harder.”
If this goes on too much longer, Eddie could very well pass out. But, per your request, he applies more pressure. Beneath the blanket, the discomfort has only intensified—his arousal is now raging with a persistent ache.
“Oh my god, finally,” You say appreciatively and settle back into a more relaxed position.
The overwhelming urge to touch himself skyrockets as his body begs for friction. Eddie repositions himself to adjust the blanket, hoping to keep his erection concealed. From the corner of his eye, his gaze drifts along your figure, pausing at the rise and fall of your diaphragm as you watch TV.
A jagged breath falls from his lips, but he’s determined to clear his mind. Realizing that he can’t leave here tonight with your blanket as a shield, he has to find a way to distract himself by the end of this program.
Miraculously, he survived. Now lying in his bed, Eddie is surrounded by the darkness, save for the glow of the moon and the faint residual light from the streetlamps filtering through the broken blinds. Eddie stares up at the ceiling while his mostly naked body responds to the vivid recollections swarming his train of thought.
On any ordinary day, Eddie would resort to the routine of using his hand and lotion to relieve himself. Be that as it may, the stirring in his core demands a different sensation.
With the thought of you weighing heavily on his mind, there’s an alternative means by which he’s going to alleviate the frustration and desire that’s grown too loud to ignore. Eddie, already shirtless, yanks his boxers off in a swift motion and kicks them off carelessly. Moving onto his knees, he leans over the edge of his bed and retrieves a pillow from the floor.
He sits back on his heels in the middle of his bed and contorts the stuffing with intent. For a moment, he’s not sure how he wants to use it. His body’s impatience grows, causing his erection to bob expectantly.
Eddie licks his lips in anticipation and sets the bent pillow down with the bend facing him. With one hand, he firmly holds the makeshift toy in place. With his other, he strokes himself languidly, blotting the fabric of the pillowcase with precum as he taps his cock against it repeatedly.
Experimentally, Eddie rolls his hips downward, thrusting the sensitive underside of his length against the smooth material. His eyes fall closed, and he can’t seem to pick just one aspect of you to fantasize about, not when every inch of you is so captivating. Eddie grunts, “Yeah, you like that?”
He adjusts his hips, angling them lower to get more friction. The heat blooming causes Eddie’s jaw to go slack. The usual five or six minutes have been halved as the thought of your smile makes Eddie embarrassingly close already.
Wanting to get in a few more thrusts before he’s spent, Eddie pistons himself against the pillow. “Tell me how badly you want me, I wanna hear you say it.”
With one fist continuing to pin the pillow down against the mattress, Eddie trails his other hand up his pale, slender stomach. He digs his gnawed-down nails into his skin, leaving red streaks behind, as he tries to imagine it as your touch. Eddie doesn’t know what it would feel like if it wasn’t his hand, but the thought of you is more than enough.
Devoid of any visual aid, the absence of a magazine or porno tape isn’t hindering him. Typically, when Eddie only has his imagination to utilize, he can beat off without finishing until he eventually gets bored and gives up.
This time it’s different. As his thoughts run wild, Eddie’s rhythm falters. The bed frame squeaks, and the wood shifts while he thrusts as hard as he can.
“Uhhh,” A coarse moan pours from his throat as his cum shoots onto the pillow. Eddie’s thrusts slow to a stop and he pants. The tension in his abdomen gradually subsides as he floats his way back down to earth.
His eyes flutter open, and he’s faced with the mess he made. “Fuckin’ hell,” With a sigh, Eddie decides that he’ll deal with it tomorrow.
After changing into fresh boxers, he chugs down a glass of tap water. Utterly exhausted, Eddie collapses back onto his bed. The aged frame creaks in protest to his abrupt flop. The intensity has been burned away, and what lingers is rawness.
Here’s the thing, Eddie has a way with words, and his unconventional charm comes without a second thought. But conveying himself physically is a different story. His upbringing lacked affection, and consequently, Eddie was robbed of particular milestones. Among those missed moments was sitting on the grass beneath a starry night sky on summer night.
Eddie never got to pluck the green blades from the ground as he gathered the courage to have his first kiss. He hasn’t so much as held someone’s hand before.
With Mr. Pickles tucked under his chin, a wave washes over his heart, wading him further into the tide of ache. Eddie may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid. He’s picking up what you’re putting down. Your persistent hints practically scream at him to make a move.
But your persistence only worsens the anxiety because Eddie’s not sure that he can take the leap like you want him to. It’s not that he doesn’t want you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s uncertainty about what to do if he gets to be with you.
Eddie’s drawn to you, his poor pillow could tell you that much. This isn’t the first night he’s spent laying here trying to talk some sense into himself. When he practices being smooth instead of awkward, Eddie struggles to navigate through the hypothetical scenarios that he’s in complete control of.
If his bedroom walls could speak, they’d tell of those nights. But after the sinful act he just committed, they have a hell of a lot more to say. Those bold utterances were far from who he is. It was a facade, a portrayal of a self-assured man he’ll never embody.
Talking dirty made him feel powerful in the moment because the mask allowed him to avoid facing how he truly feels about you. At his core, what Eddie craves is to baby you, he wants to show you that he can be sensitive. He’d die on the spot to see you in a state of delight from being showered with adoration.
Eddie closes his eyes and envisions a world where he can be what you want. He’d never be oblivious to having food in his teeth, and he’d never push a door that should be pulled. This false reality is one where he doesn’t disappoint you by shying away from your advances. It’s unrealistic, he’s just not wired that way.
During his younger years, Eddie endured the worst of taunting. The other kids mocked his short frizzy curls by referring to it as a “rat’s nest.” They told him that he’d resemble a troll until his dying days.  It was ingrained into him that he was unworthy of any form of love—be it familial, platonic, or romantic. The remarks made about Eddie’s prominent nose convinced him that he was a walking safety hazard and he’d poke someone’s eye out if he ever dared to kiss them.
In the seventh grade, Eddie hit a breaking point. He was fed up with having chewing gum put into his curls. There are too many times to count where Wayne sat for hours with a jar of peanut butter, attempting to free the cemented wads from his nephew’s locks. One day, Eddie stood in front of the mirror in the cramped bathroom and cried at the discovery of another bright pink clump of gum tangled in his hair.
It may have been just one piece at that time, but it was the final straw. Out of desperation, Eddie did the only thing he felt would solve the problem for good. By taking matters into his own hands, he used the clippers to give himself a buzz-cut. As chestnut-colored locks cascaded down, settling atop the sink and his feet, the damage was done.
Wayne lent a hand in handling the patchy spots in the back of Eddie’s head that he couldn’t quite reach. The impromptu solution worked as he’d hoped, but it only opened the door to different torment. 
The following school day, his classmates didn’t hold back, likening his appearance to that of an inmate waiting to meet Old Sparky, or cruelly suggesting that he resembles his imprisoned father.
Eddie quickly came to understand that he was never going to be the guy girls wished would ask them to the dance. The scars of rejection were etched into his self-esteem, and since then, he’s come to terms with his inadequacy.
Perhaps you’re interested in Eddie because there are still things you don’t know about him. Surely, once you learn how unworthy he is, you’ll laugh in his face just as the others did.
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Tonight he’s shielded from the nightlife commotion inside his van, parked along the curb outside your apartment. He sits patiently, watching the pine tree-shaped air freshener gently sway with the feeble push of air from the AC vents.
It’s Friday night, and there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend it with you. Eddie directs his attention toward your building as you descend the steps of your apartment’s stoop.
Eddie detects the effort, even from afar. Your shoes look new and you’re wearing more makeup than he’s used to seeing you in. These differences have him pondering the significance behind the deliberate choices.
When Eddie casually suggested catching a movie a few days ago, he hadn’t thought much of it. To him, it was merely something you hadn't done together. He didn’t think twice when you got so excited about seeing a late-night showing of Die Hard.
It’s dawning on him that it wasn’t because you’re a big Bruce Willis fan. The reason you’re all gussied up is because this is a date. He asked you out on a date.
This is not a problem, per se. Eddie’s thrilled about going on his very first date, but fear also has him in a chokehold because he’s unprepared.
Wayne never took the time to give his nephew the lowdown on dating. It didn’t come up because Eddie never displayed interest or curiosity about it.
He’s at a loss. Eddie doesn’t know how to carry himself, he doesn’t have a clue about what’s considered proper etiquette beyond what he’s seen on TV and in movies. Are those even reliable sources?
As you cross the sidewalk in his direction, Eddie’s palms grow slick. It suddenly registers that he should be outside, ready to hold the car door open for you. But before he can act on this realization, you swiftly swing the door open and slip onto the passenger seat.
"Hi," You chirp, the sound almost a squeak as you close the car door behind you. You subtly adjust the bottom of your dress before securing your seatbelt.
“Hey,” Eddie’s eyes wander over your body until he finds himself admiring your bare knees.
With a jolt, his eyes snap back to your face, only for you to be watching him with a pleased expression adorning your features.
Eddie clears his throat and busies himself with turning over the ignition. “You look nice,” he scrunched his face. “Pretty! I meant to say you look pretty.”
"Thanks," you reply appreciatively and inspect your freshly painted nails to ensure they’ve withstood the indecisive wardrobe changes of the past half hour.
Throughout the brief drive, engaging in small talk grants Eddie a temporary respite from his brain being in overdrive. Determined to maintain composure, he makes a conscious effort to avoid looking your way.
Eddie successfully carries the conversation as you enter the lobby and get through the refreshments line. Luckily, you secure the last two seats at the end of a row; he’d have been mortified if the theater was oversold and there weren’t any seats left.
The first half of the movie goes as one would expect; you’re comfortably seated beside him, occasionally whispering commentary to each other. Meanwhile, Eddie shovels fistfuls of over-buttered and under-salted popcorn into his mouth, crunching away as the scenes progress on the screen before him.
But then there’s a subtle shift in your body language. He assumes that your inability to sit still might be caused by the need for a restroom break. That is until your knee gradually inches closer to his.
The film has become an afterthought as Eddie watches you place your hand on your thigh, noticeably close to his own that’s casually hanging off of the armrest. It’s impossible to differentiate the pounding pulse in his ears from the blasts of gunfire booming through the theater.
When your fingertips graze his, Eddie rips his hand away to reach for the bucket of popcorn that’s resting in the ditch of his opposite arm. “Want some?” he fails to whisper while offering the bucket to you.
The explosive flashes of red and yellow harshly illuminate your face and without a word, you shake your head and go back to the movie.
Eddie puts the bucket back where it was, and in the hopes of distracting himself from the guilty tingle in his feet, he fidgets with his wristwatch. Repeatedly, Eddie clasps and unclasps it, making the strap incredibly loose and uncomfortably tight around his wrist.
A few minutes go by and without warning, his heart stops because you unexpectedly rest your head on his shoulder.
As if struck by lightning, Eddie leaps to his feet. The motion launches the bucket of popcorn into the air, and the people in the row in front of you are showered with kernels. He's as stiff as a board as he’s confronted with mild uproar and a chorus of expletives. 
Red-faced and unsure of whom to apologize to first, Eddie turns to you. “Shit! I’ll go get another one,” He doesn’t wait for your response and rushes down the stairs, practically leaping over them two at a time.
After bursting through the double doors and out into the empty hallway, Eddie brings his palm to his forehead, his other hand propped on his hip while he paces. Once he’s able to collect himself, Eddie heads toward the lobby, only to find that everything is powered down. 
Eddie decides to use the little time he has to rehearse what he’ll say. There might not be anything he can do to play off his peculiar behavior; at least, nothing that he can think of at the moment.
As he shows up empty-handed, Eddie doesn’t overlook your rigid posture. Your left leg is crossed over your right, pointing away from him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just upset that he wasted the popcorn and didn't get more.
In your lack of questioning, Eddie feels compelled to explain himself. “Concessions were closed, so…” He gestures with upturned palms, but you don’t acknowledge that he’s spoken or come back.
Not having received a response, Eddie resorts to chewing on his thumbnail and his leg bounces in tandem. Lost in his head, he finds it increasingly difficult to focus on the remainder of the movie.
Exiting the theater and stepping out into the parking lot, Eddie’s voice lacks confidence as he walks alongside you. “What’d ya think? I give it a solid six out of ten.”
You reply with a casual shrug and wrap your arms around yourself. “It was alright.”
“How ‘bout I treat you to Dove’s? Wanna go for a bite?” Eddie suggests to salvage the remainder of the evening.
“I’ll pass. I’m not hungry,” you say curtly, taking a step ahead to open the passenger door for yourself, denying Eddie a second chance to hold it open for you. 
“Oh,” Eddie begins, but his sentence is severed by the slam of the door. “Okay,” he finishes with a sigh.
During the drive back to your neighborhood, the air feels dense. The radio commercials do little to fill the space between you.
Upon the front tire nudging the curb, you get out of the van before Eddie has put it in park. He hurriedly follows suit, rushing over to catch up with you as you head toward your front steps.
“I had a good time tonight. Did you?” Eddie blurts out.
Pausing in your steps, you turn around and face him. “Yeah, I guess.”
Knowing that he’s the cause of your deflated spirit punches a pang to his chest. Eddie offers a gentle expression. “Would you wanna go again sometime? Probably best if you hold the popcorn though,” he chuckles uncomfortably.
“Night, Eddie,” You say with finality before letting yourself into your apartment.
Once you’ve gone inside, dejection overtakes Eddie’s features. “Goodnight,” he mutters to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.
Sifting through the mental archive of wisdom passed down by Wayne, Eddie desperately rummages for any guidance that could apply to his current situation.
Eddie has officially had the world’s worst date, and it very well could be the only one he’ll ever get to go on. It only hurts more that the outcome was entirely his fault.
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You’re avoiding him, that much is obvious. You stopped showing up to do laundry together and while he performs, you intentionally keep your back turned to the stage.
After your Saturday shifts end, you no longer stick around to hang out with Eddie, instead choosing to leave with your fellow waitresses.
One would think that it was a tough decision, but it makes perfect sense to him. Eddie gives up playing on Saturdays to avoid crossing paths with you. He reverts to his old spot on Thursday nights.
It’s a way to protect himself while making things easier for you. He can’t fathom how repulsed you are by his presence at this point.
Eddie sits at the folding table in his living room, his feet hooked with one another. The blaring thrash metal fills the room as he meticulously drafts tattoo concepts, completely absorbed in his sketchbook.
The incessant ringing of the telephone hardly cuts through the music. Eddie ignores it for the first two rings and lets out a reluctant huff before pausing the tape and picking up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Heyyy, can you come get me?” Your cheerful request weaves through the lively chatter and honking car horns in the background.
Not having seen you in two weeks, your voice hits him like a wall. “What for?”
“M’ready to go home.”
Eddie reads his watch and leans against the wall. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“You know what, forget it. I’ll just walk home.”
“Absolutely fucking not. What bar are you at?”
“Errr, The Dugout I think.”
“Stay put, alright? Wait for me inside, I’ll be there in a few,” After hanging up, he recklessly shoves his feet into his Reeboks and snatches his car keys from the counter.
Eddie arrives, expecting you to be inside. But there you are, sitting on the curb, right where you shouldn’t be. He calls out to you and jogs over, dodging a few bar-goers on the way.
At first, you turn your head the wrong way when you hear your name called. When you spot him, you scramble upright. “You came for me!” Excitedly, you raise your hands above your head and it slightly throws off your balance. 
“Holy shit, you’re plastered,” Eddie half-scoffs, half-laughs. His eyes roam your body, and he immediately takes notice of your scraped and bloodied knees. “Jesus, what happened?”
“Huh?” you ask, your drunken buoyancy unaffected by his evident concern. Following his guided point, you simply shrug. “I dunno, can’t remember.”
“You’re not here by yourself, are you?” Eddie scans the area, looking for any signs of someone accompanying you.
“Mmm... no, well yes. My girlfriends were here but they left.”
Eddie scoffs, “You’ve got some shitty friends.”
“Good thing I have you. My very own knight in shining armor is here to rescue me!”
“That tower of yours must’ve had quite the mini bar, princess,” Eddie remarks.
“Let’s go,” Eddie instructs, heading toward his van with the assumption that you’re following.  Peeking over his shoulder, you’re practically tripping over your own feet.
The long strap of your purse slides off your shoulder, snags on your bent elbow, and the bag thuds against your calf.
“What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He steps back, takes hold of your purse, and throws it over his shoulder. Then, he wraps his arm around your waist and holds you snugly to his side, determined to get you home safely by whatever means necessary. After helping you into the passenger seat, he reaches over to fasten your seatbelt. “No hurling in here, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” you salute before sitting back so that your head is supported by the headrest.
Getting you up the stairs was the hard part. He unlocks the apartment door and gently steers you toward the bathroom.
You make a feeble attempt to resist, grasping onto the door frame before finally yielding to your waning strength.
Eddie lets go of you and begins to rummage in search of supplies.
“Okay, Eddie Bear. I’m ready for my bath,” You slur, leaning against the wall for support as you start to ease yourself into the tub.
“Eddie Bear, huh? That’s new,” he snorts before glancing over. “Oh, no you don’t. C’mere,” Eddie grasps you by the waist once more, guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat.
With both hands, he cradles your booze-warmed cheeks, unintentionally pushing your lips into a pout. “Stay put, would ya?”
Mumbling to himself, Eddie goes back to gathering the first aid supplies. “I look away for two goddamn seconds. Nothing but trouble, I swear.”
The pout doesn’t leave your face and you cross your arms with an annoyed huff. As the seconds pass, it's as though there’s elevator music playing in your head while you wait for something to happen.
Eddie crouches at your feet. “So, what’s your justification for getting shit-faced on a weeknight?” The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he begins wiping away the dried blood on your knees with a damp cloth.
“Boys are dumb, that’s why.”
“I know, aren’t they just the worst?” Eddie concurs with a hum. He stands to rinse the cloth, washes his hands, and then fully gets to his knees on the tile floor to apply ointment.
“Yeah, they are,” Your voice trails off as you look at his fingers resting firmly on your thigh, just above your knee, to prevent any inadvertent movement.
Engrossed in your own little world, you start humming an improvised tune. “Like them so much,” you sing-song to yourself.
Eddie glances up at you briefly. “What’s that?”
“Your hands,” you explain and poke each of his knuckles with your index finger. “You’ve got such nice fingies.”
“Fingies?” Eddie smiles as he secures bandages over both of your knees. He withdraws his touch from your thigh and he takes hold of your hand, turning it palm-side up.
“Mhm, the nicest.”
“Yours are nice too,” he comments as he cleans the scrape on the heel of your hand. As Eddie admires the intricate lines and wrinkles across your palm, he inadvertently brushes the cloth directly against your wound.
You make a high-pitched fuss in reaction to the sudden contact, reflexively pulling your hand away.
“Shit, sorry,” Eddie apologizes earnestly. He applies the ointment before applying a bandage. Rising to his feet, he theatrically brushes off his hands. “There, good as new.”
You reach out to him in a toddler-like manner and make grabby hands at him.
Eddie laughs and leans against the door frame. “I’m not carrying you. Brush your teeth so we can get you into bed.”
“You’re no fun,” you groan while you stand awkwardly, the bandages restricting full movement. You wet your toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste onto it, making sure to shoot a scowl at Eddie as you do.
After lackadaisically brushing your teeth, you plop the brush back into its cup. “There, squeaky clean. Happy?”
“As a clam,” Eddie says with a grin. He steps back to allow you out of the bathroom. “Go put your PJs on.”
With a dismissive wave, you drag your feet to your room and begin to dig through your dresser drawer.
Just as he’s about to start picking up after himself, he’s interrupted.
“Eddie,” You call out defeatedly. 
“Yeah?” When he doesn’t receive an immediate response, he cautiously steps into the doorway of your room. There you stand, still wearing your dress.
“I can’t reach it,” You say, turning your back to him and bowing your head slightly, signaling that you need his assistance.
Eddie swallows hard and mutters under his breath, “Right, the zipper,” Stepping into the room, his hands start to tremble.
Now positioned behind you, he carefully takes hold of the small piece of metal. Despite the trembling, Eddie tries his best not to make contact with your skin as it’s revealed by the descending zipper.
Dizziness consumes him as his eyes flit between your shoulder blades. Once your dress is completely unzipped, Eddie takes a significant step backward, putting distance between the two of you. “Is that all you need?”
You return to sifting through your pajama options. “I think so.” 
Eddie retreats to the bathroom. The image of your bare back is seared into his memory, he’s just gonna have to live with it etched into his mind forever.
After regaining his composure, he locates some aspirin and fills a drinking glass with water. “Are you decent?” Eddie asks hesitantly, not daring to step closer to the threshold without receiving confirmation.
“Uh huh,” You mumble, flopping onto your bed and committing to the first position you land in.
Holding the cup of water and two tablets of pain relief, Eddie re-enters your bedroom. He finds you sprawled and droopy-eyed lying on your back.
Eddie’s chunky metal rings clink against the glass when he sets it down on your nightstand. “I think you’ll appreciate this little visit from the aspirin fairy come morning. You’re gonna feel like shit.”
“Okay,” you murmur, your attention glued to how his strong nose casts a shadow on his cheek in the glow of your bedside lamp. Flipping onto your side facing the door, you yawn and stretch your toes.
Eddie gathers the jumbled blanket from the other side of the bed and drapes it over you, covering you up to your shoulders with care.
Although he wants to, he refrains from tucking you in, concerned that you might trip or get more hurt if you need to get up. “Well, goodnight.”
Just as Eddie turns to leave, your weak grasp seizes his hand before he’s out of reach. It stops him in his tracks, and his gaze follows the path from your joined hands, tracing up your arm until his eyes meet yours.
Fighting to keep your eyes open, you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. “I don’t want you to go.”
He returns without needing any further invitation and sits on the edge of the bed by your belly. Releasing his hand, you rub your eye before tucking your fist beside your head.
Looking down at you affectionately, a grin graces Eddie’s face. He watches as your eyelids flutter closed, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. “Such a sleepy girl.”
With your eyes cemented closed, you adjust your head on the pillow before drifting off to sleep. Eddie stays put for a minute or two, simply admiring you. He’s never seen something so precious.
His heartbeat rattles his ribs, just as it did the first time he saw you waitressing at Double Barrel. That static-like tingling plagues his extremities as an old thought resurfaces. In those conversations where you shared your life stories, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be kissed by you.
Eddie’s eyes brim with tears at the fact that his presence is solely due to your inebriation, and this closeness it’s about to expire. “God,” he exhales, rolling his eyes skyward to hold back his tears.
“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, pulling the blanket a touch higher over your shoulder. Then, he switches off the lamp and leaves you to rest.
Dwelling on the fact that you won’t remember tonight won’t do him any good. Getting this close to you would have never happened in sober circumstances. At least he got to take care of you in the way he always wanted, even if only for a short time.
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Over the past few days, Eddie has been thinking about how he felt when you relied on him to get you home. He’s curious whether the call you made to him signifies that you still want him in your life. If that happens to be the case, then he can work with that.
Going through with this might worsen the sting of rejection, but Eddie has his heart set on mending things.
Within moments of entering the bar and scouring the room for you, he spots you conversing with Lee about a table’s order. Eddie begins to pat his thighs in an erratic rhythm as he feels his insides lurch.
As soon as Lee notices Eddie, he wraps up the conversation and gets back to work. You observe Eddie, noticing the hopefulness on his face as he strides across the room. “Do you need something?”
“Not necessarily. I was wondering if I could uh, make you dinner or something?” Eddie kicks one foot with the other and totters back and forth in place. 
Your expression changes to one of disbelieving annoyance. “I can slap together a PB&J at home, but thanks.”
“No, no. I’m serious, I’ll make whatever you want,” Eddie insists.
“What for?”
Eddie briefly looks away, scratching at the nape of his neck. “I miss hanging out with you.”
“I don’t know,” You ponder with uncertainty, your gaze monitoring the occupied tables in case you’re needed.
“Let me cook for you. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
His pleading eyes wear you down. “Fine, when?”
A bright smile spreads across Eddie’s face, stretching from ear to ear. He bounces on his tiptoes with enthusiasm. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set a time then.”
“Sure, yeah,” you respond, your attention diverted to a booth on the far side of the room where the seated customers wave you over. “Look, I gotta go.”
You’re already back in work mode and walking away before Eddie can say anything else. He just stands there, incapable of shrinking his smile to a mere grin.
Bowing his head, Eddie pumps his fists at his sides in a moment of triumph. With the opportunity for redemption sitting in his lap, he has his heart set on making things right.
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In the days leading up to the agreed-upon dinner, Eddie makes several trips to the library, hunting for a recipe for the meal you mentioned. He dips into his emergency savings to purchase extra ingredients, dedicating his time and money to practice making it.
The first go around, he forgot to add two crucial ingredients, resulting in a bland and tasteless dish. Eddie couldn’t let it go to waste, so he settled for the less-than-impressive dinner that night.
On the second attempt, he tried to compensate for the previous mistake by adding more than enough seasoning. He didn’t exactly do it on purpose; it poured out of the canister much faster than Eddie expected. Regrettably, that meal went straight into the trash. Eddie couldn’t stomach a forkful of it.
Eddie absolutely, positively cannot fuck this one up. He can’t afford to, both figuratively and literally. Without a doubt, if he serves you a shit dinner, you’ll push him out of your life for good.
When you knock on the front door, the perceived silence on the other side of the door is broken with a clatter and muffled cursing. The quiet resumes and hangs in the air for a couple of seconds before the door swings open.
There stands Eddie, hair a little tousled. “Hello, hello!”
His stomach does somersaults at the sight before him; your clothes accentuate your figure, and your skirt suits you. Once again, you look stunning and appropriately dressed for a date.
Meanwhile, Eddie doesn’t have many options to choose from. The most formal thing he owns is a button-up shirt and it’s too dressy, but it’s all he has. Paired with it are his holeless black jeans. Before today, he never thought it was possible to be both over and underdressed at the same time.
“Come on in,” Eddie says, stepping aside with reluctance, allowing you to enter his apartment.
As soon as he opened the door to you, his mind turned into a whirlwind of second-guessing himself. The shirt is definitely too formal, but Eddie wants to prove that he knows it’s a date this time, and he means for it to be one. If only he owned an iron so that the material wasn’t as wrinkly as it is.
He wants to prove that he can clean up nicely, evident from the scent of aftershave and cologne. Eddie meticulously clipped his fingernails and tidied his eyebrows, ensuring that he is as presentable as possible.
“This is my castle,” He gestures to the space.
The entirety of the afternoon was spent tidying up and Eddie couldn’t bear to leave a single surface undusted. Any potentially embarrassing materials were tucked away and he washed all of his dirty dishes.
As you enter and survey his studio apartment, he takes the opportunity to rake through his bangs with his fingers. You spot his sketchbook sprawled open on the guitar amp and pick it up.
“Oh, those are nothing, you don’t have to-” Eddie moves forward and reaches out, intending to retrieve the drawing pad, but pauses when you point to the sketch he recently finished.
“This one,” you trace the lines of the drawing with your finger before looking over at him. “I’d get this one.”
“You’d let me give you ink?” There’s a hint of insecurity and surprise in his voice as he subtly retrieves the sketchbook from your grasp.
“Maybe. It depends if you’re still shit at it,” you shrug casually, interlocking your hands behind your back as you assess the living room area. Your attention falls on the antique bookshelf, adorned with miscellaneous items and framed photos. “Has Cliff let you take clients yet?”
“No, you’d be my first real canvas,” Eddie admits.
As you continue looking around, his gaze is one beat ahead of yours. His eyes land on it just before yours do, and his stomach drops upon spotting the one thing he forgot to hide.
“Oh my god!” You squeal, rushing over to the couch and scooping up Mr. Pickles. “Who’s this cutie?”
Pale as a ghost, Eddie stares blankly back at you. How the fuck did he forget to hide the one thing on this planet that rids him of all masculinity.
“I’ll introduce you another time,” Eddie silently urges you to put Mr. Pickles back in his spot, desperately hoping you’ll never bring it up again.
In actuality, he should be thanking himself for the oversight, because you look far more high-spirited than when you stood outside his door.
“I’m looking forward to it,” You brush over the matted fur on the bunny’s head before carefully placing him back on the sofa.
The tension dissipates on his body as he picks up on the change in your energy. It’s reminiscent of how happy you were to see him when you were drunk. But this time is different; it’s genuine, rather than influenced by alcohol.
You’re lured into the kitchen by the incredible aroma, and the steaming food matches the enticing smell. “There’s no way in hell you made that.”
“You bet your ass I did,” Eddie retorts with his hands on his hips while he makes his way from the front door to the kitchen.
You step closer to him. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” you purr, inching closer until your toes nearly make contact with his socked ones. With featherlight pressure, you place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
Eddie’s internal circuits fry as he tries to process the fact that he just got kissed on the cheek for the first time. His lungs refuse their vital function, denying him oxygen. He retreats by half a step, attempting to mask the blazing rosiness of his face.
“For god’s sake, I’m so sick of whatever this stupid game is.”
“What game? I’m not-” Eddie panics.
“You get me to throw myself at you by doing thoughtful shit like this, but when I finally make a move, you act revolted.”
“I swear to Christ I’m not playing with you. I mean, I’m not trying to,” Eddie explains, his words jumbling together. “I know I've been making a total ass of myself, and tonight was supposed to fix that. But I just- I keep screwing up because I like you and you make me so nervous.”
You scoff, halfway turned toward the door. “That’s hard to believe. You flinch if I so much as bump into you. You don’t want to touch me, I get it.”
A pang of guilt hits him like a baseball bat to the stomach. “No no no, I do! I wanna touch you,” Eddie admits. “Look, you mean so goddamn much to me. You deserve someone who can make you feel good, and I can’t do that.”
Still guarded, you sound agitated but you turn to face him nonetheless. “What are you talking about?”
His voice lowers, a whisper of shame. “I don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Nobody wants to fuck the dorky virgin, y’know?” Eddie’s vision blurs from the tears veiling his vision.
You frown at the vulnerable quiver in his voice. “I do, I’ve been wanting to.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.”
“I have to disagree with you on that. You’re a fast learner,” You extend your hand to him at waist height.
Eddie stares at your outstretched hand, struggling to process the gesture. He holds his breath, torn between his anxiety and trust. Cautiously, he places his hand in yours.
The benevolent hold pulses a flash flood through his being, the frigid water jolting his systems alive. When you intertwine your fingers with his, the clamminess is evident against the softness of your palm. Insecurity floods him, worried that you’ll be repulsed by it.
Cracks of lightning electrify Eddie’s heart, rendering him unable to meet your gaze. Instead, he focuses intensely on your joined hands. “I have no idea what I'm doing though.”
“That’s okay,” you assure him with a confident smile. Giving his hand a slight squeeze, you add, “See, not so scary anymore, right?”
Eddie shakes his head, even though fear is still coursing through his veins. You pick up on his hesitation and knowing that he won’t do it himself, you guide his hand to your hip and leave it there.
He sort of caresses, not out of boldness, but seeking to alleviate the numbness in his fingers. The sensation has already spread to other parts of his body.
Your patient expression, graced with a grin, grows into a bright smile when you meet his eyes. Eddie’s confidence blossoms, and he uses his other hand to cradle your cheek.
Acquainting himself with the contours of your face, his thumb strokes lightly from beneath your eyes and along your cheekbone. He starts to smile too as his nerves give way to the feeling of reassurance.
As you tilt your head into his touch, your eyelids flutter closed, and you grasp at the loose sides of his shirt, pulling him closer. He steps forward willingly, but his voice retains an uncertain tone. “I really wanna kiss you, but I’ve never, uh…”
You lean in, and the tip of your nose gently brushes against his. The thundering of his heart in his ears drowns out everything but your voice.
“Close your eyes and follow my lead, okay?” The warmth of your breath encircles his lips, turning his knees to jelly. 
Eddie can’t even whisper a confirmation. At your request, he closes his eyes, leaving him solely reliant on his other senses. The smoothness of your lips against his registers as a gentle peck with just enough pressure for him to feel it. It lingers, and he finds himself incapable of moving his lips in response.
“Want another?”
With his eyes still closed, he murmurs, “Yes, please.”
Devilishly, you press a kiss to his wrist, the hand that is still gently cradling your face.
Eddie’s eyes open, a pout and a scowl simultaneously forming his reaction. “Nu-uh, right here,” he insists, leaning in eagerly. He’s caught up in the desire to feel it again but he’s still hesitant to initiate the kiss himself.
You happily close the gap and this time, Eddie slightly purses his lips against yours, doing his best to follow your lead. After giving it a few tries, he feels you withdraw but his head instinctively follows, chasing your lips.
His eyes swirl with affection as he grapples for something to say, feeling breathless and dumb. “Fuck, I don’t wanna stop doing that.”
“Then don’t.”
Finally, Eddie’s able to pursue, but only a fraction of a second before you. With determination, his pecks carry more verve. It’s easier than he thought it would be; granted, he can rely on his ability to keep a steady rhythm, a perk of being a musician.
Eddie didn’t think this could get any better—that is until your lips slot perfectly between his, wet and warm. He pauses, malfunctioning once more. As you kiss him deeply, his mind is dusted in a golden haze and it feels as though he’s floating within himself. Enveloped by the sensation of your hands on his collarbones, a soft noise escapes him.
Mortified, Eddie freezes. Instead of deterring you, it only spurs you on. You wrap your arms around his neck and mold your body against his. The intensity of the kiss only escalates, he’s chasing your storm, matching your every move.
Your fingers entwine in the curls at the nape of his neck, coaxing more noises from him. Eddie is so far gone that he’s unaware of the growing bulge in his jeans. His hand leaves your cheek, traces down your shoulder, and along the outside of your arm before clinging to your waist with both hands.
You hover over his lips, a stream of electricity fizzling between you. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”
Eddie forgets to respond but then nods fervently. With curious eyes, he watches intently as you lift your shirt, unveiling skin he’s never seen before.
He inhales and exhales shakily as your necklace falls back into its place against your chest. It’s not a swinging pocket watch, but Eddie is entranced nonetheless.
“You said you wanna touch me,” you draw his trembling hands up your sides. “Now’s your chance.”
Eddie’s hands ascend and meet the silky band of your bra, and you guide his palms forward to the plush foam padding. Your reassuring hold is encouraging, but Eddie tears his stare from your breasts to check-in. He finds you already looking at him, exuding a sweet demeanor. “Give it a try.”
Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs in the thick column of his throat, his hands unmoving beneath yours.
“Like this,” You squeeze your hands twice before removing your guidance and allowing him to proceed at his own pace.
Adrenaline motivates him to cup them independently this time, and his cock twitches as he commits to the action.
“You’re doing great by the way,” You offer a smile.
Growing more confident, Eddie applies more pressure. His thumbs move in tandem, brushing over the area where your nipples are concealed. The innocent delight in his eyes burns dark into frustration after a few squeezes. Eddie huffs in annoyance at the fact that he’s only getting handfuls of padding.
“Easy, tiger. Want this off too?”
Heartened by the lack of ridicule, he feels safe. Regardless, Eddie fails to articulate more than a few words, his heart lodged in his throat. “If that’s okay with you.” 
“Come sit,” You suggest, taking his hand in yours to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed.
As he sits, Eddie thanks himself for having washed his sheets for tonight, despite never imagining that this would happen.
When you release his hand, both of them return to the plush of your waist, making himself at home there. The straps of your unhooked bra drape loosely on your arms, and his pupils dilate as the foam cups gradually gain distance from your body. 
“Holy shit,” Eddie says under his breath, his bottom lip shining after a swift swipe of his tongue.
Your hips receive an involuntary squeeze as his patience begins to waver. He then slides his hands back up to your ribs, using his thumb followed by the heel of his palms to graze the bottom of your breasts.
With a sigh of relief, Eddie no longer has to daydream about what they might look like. His beautiful brown eyes roam over your body like you’re a masterpiece, a sculpture carved from stone solely for him to admire endlessly. Savoring the moment, he takes his time to appreciate every second. Eddie doesn’t take your trust for granted.
After a minute or two, you scoot backward onto the mattress toward the pillows. “Let’s get more comfortable.”
He watches you recline half-naked on his bed, and his belly swirls at the sight. Eddie follows suit, crawling to you. Now positioned between your legs, Eddie hesitates as he looks down at you, your hips not making any contact.
His touch resumes at your waist, but this time he’s stroking the expanse of your tummy; it inadvertently brings comfort to both you and him. Until this moment, he’s never had the chance to see the tiny details on your face up close—the distinct aspects that compose your sheer beauty.
Eddie’s hazelnut curls hang over his ears as his gaze trails over your neck and chest. His intense adoration makes you want to hide, but the unease is melted away when he captures your lips with his own. Eddie feels like it’s already been too long since he last kissed you, the deprivation like that of extreme thirst.
Goosebumps prickle his fully dressed form, a surge of belonging filling the cracks in the surface of his heart. Timid pecking is a thing of the past, each kiss more fervid than the one before it. The wet click of your lips drowns out the inhibitions buzzing in his ears.
Eddie’s large hand paws at your breast, his thumb playing with your pebbled nipple, drawing a whine from the back of your throat. You tug him closer by his jeans, bringing his hips down against yours. Regardless of the denim barrier, this causes a change in him. When you lift your hips against Eddie, he grinds back just as needily.
As your lips part, he begins a trail of affection along your cheek, jaw, and down your neck. When Eddie reaches your collarbones, his mouth moves hurriedly. He’s itching to fulfill the longing that’s been something he’s imagined plenty of times before. Kissing every inch in his descent, Eddie hunches over and takes your nipple into his mouth.
The melodious sound that pours from you makes him painfully harder. His cock strains against the metal zipper of his jeans, fighting to defy the taut material. You arch into his mouth, and Eddie continues to grind against the apex of your thighs.
He licks his way across to give much-needed attention to your opposite breast, all the while maintaining stimulation on the other with his thumb. Eddie suckles and flicks his tongue, his breath hitting your bare skin like a sweltering midsummer heat wave.
The reciprocity of sincerity is blowing his mind; the way it feels to have your hands weaving through his hair. There’s a slight tug when your fingers catch on a knot, and the sting only fans the flames burning in his lower belly.
Eddie releases your nipple, leaving it bereft of the heat of his mouth. Following his previously explored path up your chest and neck, he bashfully looks into your eyes. “Could I, uh, kiss you down there, too?”
“Normally I’d have to ask for head. Are you sure?”
The melted milk chocolate of his irises practically drips off of his lashes as he blinks at you. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”
“I’m not entirely convinced,” You coax him playfully.
“I’ll just have to prove how starving I am then, won’t I?” Eddie quips, moving out of the way to remove your skirt. As he does, the waistband slips from your hips and he slides it off your legs.
You’re in nothing but your panties and the white cotton is not particularly sexy, but they sure are familiar. That day at the laundromat, Eddie never imagined he’d see you in this exact pair at some point. He wonders if you did.
His fingertips tap their way up your thighs until they reach the band of your underwear. You look so cute with your hands resting across your belly like an awaiting princess—his princess.
Much like the skirt before it, the garment is tugged down the curvature of your legs. Your knees knock together as your legs reflexively close. Meanwhile, Eddie is mesmerized by the damp patch on panties hanging from his fist.
“You wanna keep 'em?”
Eddie nods with feigned innocence. These would go to good use, he thinks. 
“They’re all yours,” You grant his wish.
“I feel so spoiled,” he says while tucking them into his back pocket for safekeeping. Then, Eddie redirects his attention to the living art laid out before him. “Especially for getting to see you like this,” he drags his fingertips along the outside of your calves until they reach your knees.
Your legs fall open, proudly putting your glistening cunt on display for him. 
“Fuck,” Eddie says, moon-eyed. He repositions himself between your legs, lying on his stomach. Drool pools on his tongue, his mouth just inches away from your body. With one arm wrapped under your thigh, Eddie uses a finger on his free hand to collect the wetness that’s all for him.
“Don’t be a tease,” You fuss.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie responds, ready to put his new skill to use. It starts with a testing press of his lips against your clit. He works his way lower, mouthing at you messily, making out with your cunt. Eddie licks his lips and rests his cheek against your inner thigh. “Can I use my fingers too?”
“Yeah, just take it slow,” You gather his hair and keep it out of his face so it doesn’t get in the way.
Eddie glides two digits through your folds, admiring the way the pads of his fingers glisten with the mix of your slick and his spit. Slowly, he eases his two fingers into your entrance. They sink deeper without facing resistance, and you soak him down to his bottom knuckles. Eddie looks up at you from between your legs, amazed. “You’re so wet.”
You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. “You own a mirror, don’t you? How could I not be.”
Flattered, Eddie smiles. He draws his fingers back before plunging them into you a little faster this time, though not by much. As you lay back and get comfortable, you instinctively roll your hips downward with each thrust of his fingers.
With his cheek still resting on the inside of your thigh, he’s unable to bring himself to speed up, downright mesmerized by the sensation of your velvety walls squeezing around his fingers. When he accidentally flexes and curls them upward, it elicits a pretty gasp from you.
Eddie’s gaze flits up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What was that?” he teases and does it again, deliberately. “Did you say something?”
You moan, “That feels amazing,” You run your hand up your belly to your breast, massaging yourself in tandem with his improved technique.
He finds a steady tempo, rubbing the spot that makes your nerves flare. With nothing else on his mind, Eddie is fully engrossed as he drives his digits into you. Your fingers suddenly appear before him to rub your clit for added stimulation.
“Oh my god,” You moan unabashedly, arching your back off of the bed in response to the heightened ecstasy.
“You like that?” Eddie looks up at you, feeling a rush of pride as you writhe.
“Yes- fuck, I’m almost there.”
Eddie boldly nudges your hand away with his nose, swiftly replacing your fingers with his tongue, flicking it passionately.
Your moans fill his ears as he laps at you, enjoying the way you taste when you unravel. He’s so in the zone that he fails to realize you’ve already reached your peak and become overstimulated.
You squirm in his grip, gently pushing his forehead away. “Eddie, Eddie!”
“Yeah?” His fingers stop abruptly, and he looks at you with doe-like eyes, your glossy sugar smeared all over his lips and chin.
“It’s too much,” You say exhaustedly.
“Shit, my bad,” Eddie frowns, disappointed that his fun has come to an end. He slowly withdraws his digits, admiring the way you’ve coated them. He drags his fingers down his tongue like your arousal is cake batter from a bowl. A low hum emanates from Eddie as he sucks them clean, inadvertently making a show of it. “God, your pussy tastes good. Even better than I dreamed it would.”
“Come here,” You beckon him, smiling blissfully.
Eddie wastes no time getting onto his hands and knees and crawls up between your legs. Hovering over you, he gazes into your eyes, cheeks dimpled. “I made you cum.”
“I can’t remember the last time I came that hard either,” you chuckle, noticing the sheen on his face. You grab your discarded shirt to wipe it off. “Here, let me-”
“No!” Eddie angles out of your reach, his brow furrowed. Using his still-sticky fingers, he wipes at his lips and chin, licking his digits clean once more. “Can’t let it go to waste.”
After you tuck his frizzy curls behind his ears, Eddie’s tender grin fades. Your hands slowly move down his pecs to his belt, and you tug at the metal buckle. Just as you free the leather from the prong, he stops you.
“Uh- wait.” The hesitance in his voice brings your pursuit to a halt. The way you shrink back causes his heart to squeeze.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to go all the way if you’re not ready.”
“It’s not that. Believe me,” Eddie reassures you. He brings a hand to the side of your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m just worried that you’ll never wanna see me again ‘cause I'm so terrible in bed.”
Your shoulders raise and lower with the deep breath that you take. “You said you want to make me feel good, right?”
“More than anything,” Eddie declares in a heartbeat.
“Your cock would.”
Eddie nearly shudders and his voice burns raspy. “Yeah? You want it?”
You hook your fingers through his belt loops and tug, staring back at him intensely. “Not want. I need you inside me.”
“Christ,” he gulps and presses his hips forcefully against yours, dampening the denim. Eddie lowers his mouth to your shoulder and kisses it. “I wanna know what it feels like so bad.”
You turn your head and nibble his earlobe. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?” When your hands return to his partially undone belt, Eddie doesn’t intervene this time.
“I don’t have protection though.”
Blindly, you unbutton and unzip his jeans. “Side pocket of my purse.”
Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away and awkwardly scoots backward off the bed. His pants hang low on his slender hips, exposing the snug elastic band of his blue plaid boxers. After finding the condom, he inspects it. “I have no fucking clue how to use this.”
Sitting up, you hold your hand out. “I can put it on you if you want.”
Eddie hands it to you, then it occurs to him that he’s still fully dressed. While you’re tearing the foil package, he yanks down his jeans and kicks them away, his belt jangling. Only a few buttons are undone from the neck before he gets impatient. Eddie tears his shirt over his head, leaving his mane disheveled.
He pulls at the waistband of his precum-soaked boxers indecisively, but the sight of your beautiful naked body reminds him that it’s only fair. Eddie pulls them down and his anxiety has caused him to go partially soft. When you look at him, he wishes the world would swallow him whole. 
Your eyes rake across his slim frame, then meet his eyes instead of drifting below his waist. Eddie climbs back onto the bed, sitting on his haunches. You crawl onto your knees to join him and pull his body against yours, kissing him.
Mumbling against your lips, he tries to apologize for already failing you by being unable to stay hard, but his words falter as the kiss deepens, his worries becoming an afterthought. Eddie grips your waist, and the sensation of your breasts pressing against his bare chest makes him feel woozy. As soon as you break the kiss, he’s immediately filled with fear once more. “If it’s small or it looks weird, don’t tell me.”
You effectively distract him from his insecurities by trailing your lips down his pulse, dragging your teeth along the supple skin there. Eddie grips your ass harshly, a shaky sound pouring from his throat as you kiss your way down his body. He watches, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
As you finally look at his shy cock, you run your palms up and down the sparse hair on his outer thighs. “You’re the perfect size for me,” You compliment him with a smile. 
“I am?”
You suck a bruise on the pale skin of his waist. “Yeah, you are.” 
Eddie’s eyes close, his hands resting on your shoulders as he focuses on the sensation of you licking and biting him. Lost in the feeling rather than inside of his head, Eddie’s cock gradually rouses.
Having previously set it aside, you grab the condom. “Hold it still for me, please.”
“O-Okay,” he secures it at the base, his palm covering the trimmed thatch of curls. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” With one hand, you fit the band around the tip, and with your other, you roll the latex down his shaft. That alone causes Eddie’s mouth to fall open, a ghosted moan tumbling from his lips.
“There, easy peasy,” Sitting back up and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him flush against you. His wrapped, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“I’m not sure I could if I tried,” Eddie says, his eyes flitting between yours. “Is this really happening?”
“It’s happening,” After kissing the tip of his nose, you settle back bringing him down with you to get comfortable, your head resting on the pillow.
Eddie returns to the previous position, this time with your legs hiked around his hips, causing his cock to rub against your mound. Afraid of poking around too much, he asks, “Would you do the honors, m’lady?”
“Why, of course,” you say with a giggle. You guide the head of his cock right where it needs to be and look into Eddie’s eyes. “Go ahead.”
He swallows hard and inches his hips forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance. Eddie sinks until he’s halfway sheathed by the hot embrace of your cunt. As he pushes the rest of the way in, his jaw falls slack.
“You doing okay?” You soothingly stroke the bulging veins on his forearms.
“Mhm,” Eddie mumbles with his lips rolled inward. After a few seconds without moving, he draws his hips back and then drives them forward. The moan that rips from his chest is unholy.
After two or three agonizingly slow and experimental thrusts, the motion comes naturally to him after all that practice he’s gotten from humping his poor pillow in this very spot. “Fuck me,” The hand that isn’t supporting Eddie’s weight fists at the bed sheets as he thrusts repeatedly, falling into a slow and steady pace. “Jesus fucking fuck.”
“Look at you go,” you moan out. “It feels amazing, doesn’t it?”
“Feels… god, you feel incredible,” Eddie grunts, propping himself up on both hands. His hair hangs down, swaying with the tempo of his hips. In this position, he can watch the bounce of your body with each thrust and he’s doing just that.
The grazing of your fingernails along his flexing hips throws off his pace. It weakens him, especially when you’re looking at him the way you are. Eddie is so consumed by the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can’t be self-conscious about the fact that he’s moaning every time he sinks back into you.
The shame of virginity has been lifted away as Eddie experiences this night of firsts with the girl he’s crazy about. Eddie is struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. He’s captivated by the way you’re watching his length disappear inside you over and over.
You look stunning lying on his pillow, anchoring his body to yours. Before tonight, he considered the concept of moaning someone's name to be cliché because it only happens in the movies. But Eddie’s had a change of heart because he can’t stop saying yours. It’s all of you right here, right now, all over, making a man out of him.
His muscles begin to tremble, and he lowers himself onto his forearms. Eddie rests his forehead against yours, his hips stuttering. “I’m so close, baby. I don’t wanna cum,” He slows his movement to stave off his orgasm.
“I want you to,” You express while gliding your hands down his muscular back.
“No,” Eddie protests, ceasing his thrusts entirely. “I want you to cum again first.”
“This isn’t about me.”
 “Are you shitting me? It’s always been about you,” he pulls back to look into your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, you’re so damn worth it.”
Just before you have the chance to respond, Eddie unexpectedly rolls his hips. With one hand, he thumbs at your clit, watching how your eyes roll back. He doesn’t even have to look down to see the mess you’re making because he can hear it.
Eddie’s moans dance with yours as he pushes his knees forward, adjusting the angle of his hips to mimic a ‘come hither’ motion. He knows he’s found the spot he discovered prior when your legs spasm around him. In response, Eddie rubs your clit harder.
The way your walls tighten makes it all that more difficult for him to hold back. He’s on the cusp, his abs tensing as he tries to fight it. Your hand flies above you to push against the headboard, your other one occupied with gripping his flexing waist.
“Cum for me,” Eddie growls, frustrated with himself as he teeters on the edge, just seconds away from spilling into the condom.
Your brows furrow and your eyes squeeze shut, a rush of air getting caught in your throat as you climax.
“Yeahhh, that’s it,” Eddie’s abdominal muscles tense to their limit. “Oh- fuck,” His voice pitches higher.
“I’m yours,” You moan prettily and guide him down, letting him bury his face in your neck to give his arms a well-deserved rest.
“All mine,” Eddie says between his labored breaths. He grips and lifts your hips while you kiss his shoulder. Losing their previous steadiness, his strokes become shorter and more sporadic. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cuh- uh- mmm.”
Eddie lets out a whimper as he delivers two unsteady thrusts before slamming his hips against you, burying himself as he orgasms. His ass tenses and ripples, the muscles contracting as he rides out his high.
Panting loudly, Eddie stills his movements completely and props himself up to look down at you. “Jesus Christ. After that, I wanna have you for dinner every day,” he says against your cheek before kissing it. “As a snack in the middle of the night,” Eddie adds, kissing your temple. “Shit, you’d be good for breakfast too. It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know.”
You let out a winded giggle, your bodies sticking together as he struggles to keep himself propped up.
“Sweetheart, can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” You tease and smile wide when he rolls his eyes and snorts.
Eddie takes your hand, flattening your palm against his chest so that you can feel how vigorously his heart is beating. “Is this what being in love feels like?” He asks tearfully.
“Yeah,” you nod, placing his hand over your own heart that’s thudding just as hard. “Just like this.”
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tags: @nj01 @tlclick73 @foreveranexpatsposts @madelynraemunson
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rottenaero · 10 months
Text
AO3
Part 1
Part 4
Part 6
Part 5 of the roommates idea
Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.
Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.
This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.
Basically, I wanna know if I should;
A.Post it on ao3 as is
B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)
C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)
I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.
This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.
After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.
Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.
Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.
Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.
“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”
He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”
“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”
He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.
“Lets go, nerds”
-
Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.
One of his kids were gonna die.
Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse
Eddie was being hunted.
Two more students have been murdered.
He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.
They were royally fucked.
“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”
Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.
“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”
The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.
“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”
“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.
“Where are you?”
“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”
Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.
“I’m driving.”
She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.
-
“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”
“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”
Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”
“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.
“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”
Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.
“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”
“Right, but you like him like that, though?”
“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.
Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.
“See? You little butthead, I was right.”
Theres a rustle of leaves and then,
“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”
Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.
“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.
“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”
The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”
His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”
“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.
He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.
“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”
Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”
He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”
“9:27…”
“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.
Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”
“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”
Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.
“Skull Rock was North.”
“An electromagnetic field.”
“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”
Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?
“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”
And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.
“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”
He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.
“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.
“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”
Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.
It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.
“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”
Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”
Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.
He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”
Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”
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fanfiction4sooya · 2 months
Text
Call her now (Karina x Fem!R)
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Just wanted to write something to open my year of writings!! Just had this idea and well... you will know more once you read it. Hope ya'll like it! 💖💖💖
Ps: thanks to each one of you who enjoy my works and engage with it. I really appreciate each one of you babies 🥹💖
cw: fingering, humping, fingering, strapons, a tad bit of voyeurism, yves is here too and she is an asshole, girl on girl action, swearing, aggressiveness, light stalking, possessiveness, nipple play, etc.
You always wondered what exactly what was that girl's job. She came in at the bank you worked for to deposit a lot of cash every week and you just asked for her ID and did the transaction, but those questions ate you alive. It wasn't anything illegal otherwise the bank wouldn't approve her transactions; Stripper? No, the bills are big and strippers usually get smaller ones thrown at them. 'Maybe she works something more expensive...' You thought for the 10th time as she left your work place with a small nod and a charming smile.
You were staring at your computer a week later, a complete wreck since you and your girlfriend broke up and your life turned upside down. She was obsessively trying to talk to you since then, following you everywhere. You were honestly not feeling very safe. but the only way you had was come into work like everyday. You still had to pay your bills after all.
You didn't even realized when Jimin sat down to the other side of your desk, her leather purse full of cash with her as always.
"Good afternoon" Her voice broke you off from your trance, making you slightly jump.
"Oh, jesus" You closed your eyes, startled.
"I didn't mean to scare you" She said. "I've been sitting here for about two minutes and you seemingly didn't see me" Polite and cold as always, but this time she scanned you.
You felt the need to hide from her sharp gaze, run away. You knew you probably looked a mess and you didn't want to appear like that in front of the yoo Jimin.
"Are you okay?" You lowered your eyes, shy as ever and she stared at your buzzing phone. You turned the screen down.
"yes, thank you for asking" You smiled, fixing your glasses on your face and trying your best to keep your composure to 1: not melt at how intensely she was staring at you and 2: not lose it because of the many times your ex has called you since your client was in front of you.
"Bad ending?" Jimin said, once again taking you from your own mind. A simple transaction that supposedly would take less than five minutes was taking way longer.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Your phone buzzed about 6 times already and before you turned your screen down I saw a trash can emoji followed by 'Ex'" She leaned against the chair, her brown overcoat slightly opening and revealing a black leather dress under it. You gulped, looking away. "So I imagine someone is wanting another chance"
"Uh... yeah" You looked at your computer screen again, finishing her transaction. "Apparently she can't take no for an answer" You said, closing your eyes and mentally slapping your forehead. Too much information.
"She?" Jimin smiled, amused. You gave her the deposit receipt and she got up. "Glad to know I have a chance" She smiled, turning away and stopping at your office's door. "Have a good day, Ms" And she left without waiting any response from you.
You spent the rest of your day thinking of what she said. Was it possible? That woman could be described as a doll, an angel, anything but human and well, not that you thought you were ugly but she was another level of pretty. Your phone buzzed again, but this time you picked it up since you were leaving the bank.
"I told you I don't wanna talk to you" You sounded stern but deep down you were scared. Ha Sooyoung could be menacing when she wanted to.
"But I wanna talk to you" You heard her voice loud and clear right behind you. You turned around and of course she was there, leaning against her motorcycle. That fuckboy attitude present as ever.
A few days prior that would be considered attractive, now it just added to how juvenile her mind could be. Looking back she never took you seriously, you were the least on her priorities but you were too enamored with her to realize all that. Only when she broke up with you saying she needed to "get her freedom back" you came back to your senses.
"please baby, why are you being like this?" She stepped forward so fast she caught your hand without you even realizing. "I said I'm sorry, I wasn't in my right mind" Her eyes scanned you, her nostrils slightly moving as she took in your scent. "I miss you in my mouth" She whispered and your legs almost gave up. Sex with her was really good, another reason for you staying with her for so long.
"First of all, take your hands off of me" You gritted your teeth, pulling your hand away from her grip. "Second: I don't care how much you miss me, I am not going back to you because I can't deal with your indecisiveness anymore, so please leave me alone" You tried to turn around but she held you again.
"Are you going to tell me you don't miss me? Me? The one who taught you what pleasure is?" She sounded more like a jerk than ever. "I know your body with the back of my hand baby..." She got really close to you, everyone that passed you two staring a bit. "You can't find anyone better than me" She spat, letting your arm go in a pushing motion.
It hurt your ego more than your arm have her saying that to you, specially because she knew you very young and inexperienced.
"Hello love, I was waiting for you" You heard her voice before seeing her. Out of nowhere jimin had her arm around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. You were on your tippy toes because of the height difference, her lips firm against yours as it lasted a few seconds. She let go of you with a smile and soon you heard the other one clearing her throat. Jimin's eyes darkened a bit, defiant. "Who is this, love?" She continued the act and you knew you were profusely blusehd.
"She is..."
"I am her girlfriend" Yves said, pulling your arm and you pulled it back to make her let go of you.
"Oh, is she the trashy ex we were talking about?" Jimin showed her teeth in an imitation of a smile, 'whispering' to your ear. "Oh yeah, not worth it at all" Loud enough for yves to hear. The woman was so astonished she couldn't even think of a proper reply when the taller woman held your hand and you took off with her, taking you to her car. You knew it was a porsche due to your ex's obsession with those fancy cars.
She opened the door for your surprised self, delicately closing it behind you and going around to enter the vehicle. Turning the engine on she waved goodbye to yves (who still had her jaw dropped) and took off.
You were just so surprised that no sound came out of you for a few minutes as you saw the city in a flash of lights due to her speed. She noticed your surprised face, of course.
"You can breathe now" She said, side eyeing you and your pencil skirt, your glasses on the tip of your nose.
"Oh, yeah..." You finally allowed yourself to move. After a moment of the most awkward silence ever known to men you spoke. "Thank you for that..." You started, looking at her direction for one millisecond before blushing too hard. She was so attractive it was maddening. "You didn't have to lie to cover for me..." Your voice sounded small.
"I didn't lie" She stared at you now, turning her head at your direction with her hand still on the steering wheel.
"What do you mean?" You blurted out.
"I was waiting for you to get off work so I could take you home" She stared ahead. You were silent for a moment, thinking.
"You waited for hours just to take me home?"
"Yes"
"That's insane. Weren't you bored?" You said feeling bad for her waiting for you all that time.
"The thought of you entertained me" She half smiled at you.
"What... You are a natural sweet talker" You said, honestly amazed, trying to sound offended but of course you sounded playful.
"I'm a pro at it, love" She kept staring at the road, her side profile prettier than anything you've ever seen. "My place or yours?"
"W-what?" You gripped the side of your skirt, wetness already seeping through your panties with just that question. Jesus, that woman was hot.
"If you wanna go to your place its understandable, I'll gladly take you there and we can grab dinner another time" Her right hand let go of the steering wheel and she placed it on your thigh, looking intensely in your eyes. "If you come with me to my place we are going to fuck all night and tomorrow I'll drop you off at work if you'd like"
You stared at her for an eternity, a million thoughts going through your mind. You thought of saying no; excuses and excuses flowing through your head. You opened your mouth, her warm hand in your thigh making your panties damp.
"Your place"
-🌸🌸🌸-
The lights turned on as soon as you stepped inside; actually, as soon as she stepped inside because now she had your legs trapped behind her back, her hands holding you by the ass and your clothed core grinding hungrily against her stomach. You moaned against her lips when your back finally met the wall and you could really feel the weight of her body against yours.
Her tongue felt so good against yours it was really insane. How did that woman learn how to kiss like that? You tried to chase her lips again when she moved away from yours, whining when she ghosted them over yours just to teasingly smile. You rolled your eyes, scratching her shoulders under the brown overcoat.
Without much effort she kept her way to her bedroom with you on her lap, still holding tightly on her shoulders. She carefully placed you in her bed, straightening her back to look at you, her head cocked to the side like a curious feline as she measured you up and down. To your beautiful face and swollen lips, a mean smile on her lips.
"Fuck I wanted this so bad, love" She crawled to you, your panties were ruined at this point.
For some reason you didn't feel shy at all; not shy, not nervous... anything. You only felt wanted. No, not wanted. You felt needed.
She swiftly pulled you by the ankles, placing herself between your legs and staring from your face to the wet path on your underwear, a glint of arousal visible on her face too.
"you are so beautiful, fucking hell" You throbbed when she said that, her voice raspy and low as if she was speaking to herself and not entirely to you.
"Says the actual goddess over me" You bit your lip, embarrassingly out of breath.
"yet you never seemed to be interested in me" She pulled you by the nape, kissing you hungrily while unbuttoning your blouse all the way down, her fingertips grazing your tummy and making you whimper. "I usually don't go for anyone but I need to have you" she pushed you again to lay down, her tongue swirling against yours made your pussy throb like crazy.
Her tongue and teeth never stopped their assault on your lips, all you could do was whimper and scratch her arms when she traced her fingers down to your drenched cunt. You gasped when she touched your hard clit over the fabric, biting her lip a little too hard.
"Jimin, oh god" Was all you managed to say when she circled your clit a couple of times, rolling your hips each time they moved.
"yes princess, keep calling my name while I make you feel good" She lowered her assault to your neck, knowingly that would give you at least one hickey, smiling when you held her arm to keep it from going away.
It felt too good, and too much at the same time. You body felt feather like and the way she moaned while her hand kept working on your clit made you start convulsing, not really understanding why the fuck were you already cumming when with your ex you only could do it by penetration and clit stimulation.
"jimin, t-too much" you started saying but she kept rubing your swollen clit, a particularly harsh bite making you tip over the edge, squirting all over your panties and her hand. You kept rolling your hips, coming down from your high. "I've never squirted before..." You knit your eyebrows together, a bit surprised.
"Fuck, that useless asshole never made you squirt?" she devilishly smiled, biting her lower lip. She sat on her heels, pulling her dress over her head, her big breasts fully on display now as she quickly undressed you as well, pulling your dripping panties from you with and audible moan. "fuck now I want you squirting all over me" She kissed your thighs, placing herself between them to kiss your mound.
"No, it's your turn..." Pulling her to kiss you again, you thought how much you wanted that woman to be lost in you. "let me touch you, please. I don't really know how to but I wanna make you feel good" You stared into her brown eyes, her doll like features a bit more prominent from up close. She touched your face with her knuckles and that alone made you melt.
Nine times out of ten you bottomed with your ex, which didn't teach you a lot in the matters of being a top. She understandably nodded, softly smiling at you.
"Of course, love" She kissed you again and now you finally had the chance to do something instead of only let her do them to you. "It's okay, take your time" She patiently cooed and you shivered. That was arousing, oh so fucking hot.
You flipped her to be under you, straddling her hips and moaning against her skin when your boobs touched hers. She rolled her eyes and you quickly realized that was a soft spot for her, so you trailed your way down with your tongue, latching on them.
"oh, fuck" She pulled your hair a bit when your lips connected to her nipple. "Harder princess, no need to be soft with me" Jimin said, giving you directions and you clenched around nothing thinking of how hot that felt one more time.
Just now you understood how patience was something you needed in a partner. That guidance and lack of judgement... It gave you a boost of confidence.
You pulled on her nipple with a soft 'pop' and she whined, her eyebrows knit together as she rolled her eyes.
Her hips rolled on their own against yours and you ended up moaning too, sucking harshly on her right nipple while pinching the other. You started to grind down, her clit and yours perfectly grazing each other on that sinful position. She closed her eyes, tossing her head back and holding your hips to bump her clit on yours better while you kept working on her boobs.
"This feels perfect princess, k-keep going" Jimin managed to say between broken moans, the skin slapping sound loud and clear that somebody was fucking.
You were both so wet you could feel it between your legs every time she pushed your hips up to pull them down again against hers. You felt her tightening her grip. Time went both slow and fast, it was insane how turned on you were even by the lightest of touches coming from her.
"I'm gonna cum in your pussy baby, fuck fuck fuck" She gripped even harder, leaving her hand prints on your hips, deeply breathing with her eyes closed, your shiny eyes looking up at her in the most adorable way ever. You looked down to where you were connected and you could literally see how you both creamed on each other.
Coming down from her high jimin smiled at you, pulling you up for a deep kiss. Your heart was thrumming in your ears, that kiss alone making you feel things you didn't feel for the longest time, maybe never.
"Are you feeling okay?" She kissed your neck with you still straddling her and you hummed in response. "Good" She sat down, kissing your lips even more fervently than before, pushing on hand between your bodies to finally touch your pussy. "You are soaked, love" You rolled your eyes, hugging her shoulders when two of her fingers invaded you in one go. "Let's take care of that, hm?" She touch your spongy spot, pumping her fingers hard in and out of you.
You heard your cellphone buzz inside your purse somewhere but not that it mattered now that the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes on was literally fucking you hard enough to take your breath away.
"Can't she take a hint?" She said through gritted teeth, speeding up her pace.
"She'll stop..."You managed to say between a moan. "Eventually" She rolled her eyes.
"God, her insistence makes me wanna fuck you even more" She bit your lip. "Makes me wanna strap you down just so you can call her while calling my name" She said, knuckles deep inside you.
The temptation was too much, the thought of you doing such dirty thing making you clench viciously on her fingers.
"Oh, you want that" She growled, her fingers going to a full stop as she pulled them out of you, taking both to her lips and sucking it to gather your taste on her tongue. "I won't take long" She kissed you and got up. "Pick up your phone and wait for me with your legs open" She commanded.
"Y-yes, ma'am" She went to her closet and you quickly fished for your phone in your purse. In fact, a few missed calls from Sooyoung.
Jimin came back wearing a harness with a strapon, putting on a condom on the big thing. For safety reasons, you assumed.
"And your phone?" She asked, eyes glued on yours.
"She isn't calling anymore..." You said a bit out of breath when she knelt between your legs pulling you to her and laying on her stomach. Her tongue swirled between your folds and your clit, ripping a gutural moan from you. "Jesus"
"Call her now" She said, slurping on your juices. Her tongue in and out of you while her nose bumped your clit.
You did as she said, gripping on the phone for dear life when she turned you around placing you in all fours for her, holding your hips with one of them to play with your folds with the tip of the strap, slapping your clit a few times to make you jolt. Finally the other side of the line picked up.
"Where the fuck are you?" She practically shouted and finally jimin slipped in taking you by surprise and you did your best to swallow the sinful moan you were about to let out.
"I am not at my ap- fuck" You let out when she gave you a particularly hard thrust, the whole thing slipping inside you.
"You look beautiful like this, baby" She said loud enough for Yves to hear.
"What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck are you? I swear to god-"
Jimin picked up pace pulling you into her, your face completely smashed against the expensive sheets as you babbled some incoherent words. She picked the phone from your hand, never stopping what she was doing.
"Oh, hi" Her voice sounded poisonous, her free hand slapping your ass with force and making you cry out. "She is a bit busy now..."
"Jimin, please" You cried out loudly, completely forgetting anything else, the toy hitting your womb was too much to handle. "Please I'm gonna cum, please don't stop" you bit the back of your fingers, the urge to cry getting stronger by the second every time she pounded you.
"WHAT THE FUCK-"
"No need to scream, friend" She pulled you by the hair, your body now completely against hers now. "She is mine now, can you hear that?"She lifted the phone while slamming the dick inside your hole to make your moans even more audible for the other woman. "Bye bye" She said to your screaming ex, throwing your phone on the bed and finally hugging you against her. "I knew it was worth the wait..." She licked your ear lobe then your neck, reaching her hand to your clit, thrusting hard as you came screaming, squirting again all over her legs.
She kept the pace, humping the toy up while holding you for a long while. Her embrace felt strong and protective in some way.
Oh you were doomed.
When she finally took it off you fell onto the bed, limp and sweaty and so wet. She took it off, hugging your limp body and pulling you to lay on top of her on her chest and kissing your forehead, then lips taking in your scent.
"Are you feeling okay?" She said after a while.
"I'm feeling light as a feather" You nudged on her neck, feeling somewhat protected. She was warm and passionate and you really liked that. (authors note: Karina is a fire sign after all)
You finally looked around, taking in the luxurious place you were at.
"Can I ask you something?" You said and she hummed. "Don't get me wrong but I've been dying to ask you..." You placed your chin over your hands on her chest, puppy eyes looking up at her. "What do you work with?" You said making her burst out laughing. After a while she finally managed to pull herself together, looking at you.
"I am a professional domme, love" She said and you went 'Oh'. "Does that bother you?" She asked and you quickly shook your head no.
"No that's not it..." You said. "Now I'm just really thinking... are you taking any applications? I could be an intern..." She laughed out loud, caressing your hair.
"Well I am looking for a business partner..." She pulled you in for a kiss. "But you need to take some mandatory classes first" Her tongue swirled against yours and you whimpered. "Are you still interested?" She said, smiling against your lips.
"Oh you can be sure I'll be the best student you've ever had..." You sat again over her pussy, slightly grinding down and you both moaned, searching for that satisfaction one more time.
Your phone buzzed the whole night until it ran out of battery...
750 notes · View notes
afewproblems · 3 months
Text
Christmas Party Wish Part One
After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.
He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.
"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"
Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.
"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.
"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.
"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"
She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.
"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"
Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.
The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.
"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".
Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.
"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".
Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.
Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.
"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".
"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"
And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.
He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.
And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.
But Robin has a point.
On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--
Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"
"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.
"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".
Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.
"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.
Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.
"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.
Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.
"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"
"No--"
"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.
"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"
Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.
"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.
"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".
"Well, yeah--"
"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.
"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".
"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.
She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"
With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.
"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.
"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.
"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.
"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.
And he does, Steve thinks to himself.
They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.
Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.
"Okay, New Years it is".
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starsinmylatte · 11 months
Note
Maybe Silco with a motherly Fem!Reader who adores Jinx? Something with breeding & pregnancy? Domestic bliss please?
Soft
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Oooh, I do love some good domestic bliss... and I've always loved the idea of Silco's lover being a motherly figure for Jinx. Tbh, it would've solved so many problems in the show....
Rating: Explicit. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI
Pairing: Silco x Afab!reader.
Word count: 1.1k
Warnings: Breeding kink, sliiiiight degradation, Silco fantasizes about pregnant reader, cockwarming, y'all already know what's up
Join my taglist here!
(By clicking read more, you agree that you are 18+. Minors DNI)
You were by far the softest thing in Silco’s life. The Eye of Zaun -the most feared kingpin in all of the Undercity- was not a man who usually enjoyed life's softer, sweeter things, but you were the one exception.  
He could still vividly remember the day you showed up at his door, demanding to see Powder. Silco had wanted nothing more than to laugh. It was ridiculous, the way you showed up alone and completely unarmed to The Last Drop and demanded things from him of all people. Under any normal circumstance, you would’ve never gotten past his bouncers at the door, but he could barely get Jinx to eat or respond to him. Her door was locked, and the lock was reinforced from the inside…. he was worried about his new daughter, and you seemed to know her. So, against his better judgment, Silco took one look at the motherly concern you seemed to show for Jinx and brought you to her door. 
He watched carefully as you knelt in front of the door and took a deep, calming breath. “Darling, I know it’s been so hard, and you’ve been so brave… could you please come out and eat something? For me?” The door flew open in a blinding flash of unkempt, neon blue hair, and Jinx was in your arms. The small girl was sobbing and clutching you so tightly, almost like she was afraid you’d disappear at any second. She was trying to say something, but her sobs distorted her words to the point they were unrecognizable. 
You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, picking her up as she buried her face into the crook of your neck. Silco watched in shock as you stood and turned to face him calmly. “What are your thoughts on soup?.” 
In the span of five minutes, you had nearly kicked his door in to see Jinx, gotten her to come out of her room for the first time in a few days, and now you were asking him about…. soup??
“Excuse me?” He managed to say, a look of pure bewilderment still plastered on his usually smug face. 
“She likes it, so I’m going to make some. You don’t look like you’ve eaten recently either, so I want to know if I need to make enough for three.” Your tone was soft but completely matter-of-fact as you stroked the young girl’s hair. 
Silco nodded slowly. “Soup would be…. fine.” 
Without another word, you simply turned on your heel and headed for the kitchen, murmuring words of comfort to the child in your arms. 
_______
You were the brutally soft woman who had invaded Silco’s life and turned it upside down in the best way possible…. Which is how the Kingpin found himself in his current position: buried deep inside you, biting your shoulder as the thick, swollen head of his cock kissed your cervix. 
The pain-tinged pleasure was almost blinding, but fuck, it was exactly what you wanted. It was enough to have you desperately moaning his name and your back arching. The Eye of Zaun kissed the column of your neck hungrily, trailing his lips all the way up to your ear. Silco’s warm breath caressed the shell of your ear as he nipped at the delicate skin before murmuring. “You’re sure about this, my lovely?” 
“Silco, please.” You whined, voice barely audible over the sound of him fucking you. “W-we talked about this. I want a baby…. I want you to get me pregnant.” 
Silco growled in response, reaching up to palm the swell of your soft, generously curved breasts. He had you pressed back across the smooth wood of his desk, all of his papers and work carelessly thrown to the side as he took you roughly, with an almost singular purpose. The gold-trimmed bottom hem of the dress you favored had been roughly shoved up around the curves of your hips to allow him more room between your thighs. He leaned over to kiss you hungrily.
“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, sliding one of his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. Your tongue laved around it, eyelids fluttering shut in bliss as he pressed it in further. 
Silco hissed at the sight, trailing his other hand up to caress the soft skin of your lower abdomen. He pressed down with the flat of his palm, making you cry out at the sudden pressure before following it with another gentle massage. “Wanting me to fuck you raw like this…. Such a pretty thing, and you want to carry my child.” 
The thought of you pregnant was nearly enough to make him cum instantly. Your body would change… swell with the life he put inside you. Everyone would know it… Everyone would see his claim on you. Yes, Jinx would be getting a sibling, and Silco would be glad about that alone, but his true desires were much more selfish.
You whimpered as his clever fingers found their next target: one of your overly-sensitive nipples. Silco bit back a moan of his own, imagining your breasts swollen and heavy with milk. “Let me hear it again, lovely. Say my name.” 
A particularly delicious thrust of his hips punctuated each word, and Silco’s name fell from your kiss-swollen lips. Your orgasm burned through your body as you fell apart beneath him, whimpering and begging him to finish, to give you what you craved most. 
Silco’s beautiful green eye rolled back in bliss as his fingers forcefully dug into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises as he chased his own climax. His hips snapped into yours lewdly, and with one last strangled groan, the Eye of Zaun joined you in pure euphoria. The movement of his hips slowed, and you felt his warm seed fill you completely. 
Your head dropped back against the desk with a soft thunk, your energy completely and utterly spent. Silco caressed your temple, raising one of your hands to his lips to kiss it gently. 
“Beautiful…” he murmured, letting his gaze wash over you unashamedly and making no move to leave your warmth.  You shifted your hips slightly, drawing a short, sharp hiss from your lover as you sighed contentedly, completely relaxed beneath him.  
Silco dipped down to press more reverent kisses against your skin, his smooth, deep voice intensely comforting. “We are going to stay just like this for a few more minutes. It wouldn’t do for any of our hard work to go to waste.”
____________
Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @eriseffigy @ashotofspotchka @thebeardedmoon @dont-mess-with-my-fandom @redflamesbaku @My-awakened-ghost @agatemermaid @shadow-pancake9 @zaunsin @warpedbands @kemeso25 @ironandglass @nyx2021 @amyroswell @tinybookworm16 @dendrophileunsated @cassandrablacker @aikoiya @lemmielem
(If you are on my tag list and your name is crossed out, then the info I have for you either needs updating, or Tumblr is being strange)
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stanfanfiction · 7 months
Text
Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART THREE
Edit: multiple parts have been uploaded and can be found on my pinned Masterlist on my profile :)
For anyone who might want to skip the panic attacks/trauma response bit of the story and just enjoy all the smut (which I absolutely understand and would absolutely lose my mind if someone unintentionally got triggered by my story), I have put 🫶s all along the top and the bottom of the section of the story. So it’s super easy to just skip that entire section and enjoy what you had originally come for :)
Warnings: 18+ / V1rgin Ken / slow burn / smut smut smut/ losing virginity / P! In v! / oral (m! Receiving) / fluff / angst / mental health/ panic attack / purse-snatching incident / hard day for the reader / caretaking Ken / shower play / trauma response / ball touching & sucking / size k!nkk / praise K!nk
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You hopped in your classmate’s car, slamming the door shut, attempting you not look like you just ravaged by a living doll inside your house.
You classmate saw through your bullshit immediately. Zoey leaned her head back and laughed out loud, and you looked at her, knowing your ruse was up, and laughed, too.
“Is it that obvious?” You asked.
Zoey pulled down the passenger seat visor mirror and opened it for you. That’s when you saw how flushed you were AND the giant hickey forming where your neck and shoulder met. “OH FUCK.”
Zoey laughed again, putting her purse in your lap. “Glad you know you’re having a good time again,” she winked. “My concealer should be in one of my purse pockets.”
You found it and started dabbing it onto the bruise.
“So who’s the blonde?” Zoey asked, nodding towards your condo. You turned to look and saw Ken staring out the window, smiling, waving at you. Oh god.
You smiled and waved back. “Go, please, go now. He’ll come out and want to talk if you don’t.”
Zoey stepped on the gas and you watched Ken disappear in the side view mirror.
“Tell me about your new man,” Zoey coaxed.
“Later,” you giggled. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Mmm, fiinnee,” Zoey exaggerated.
🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 (Beginning of trauma response section)
Class was easy but also torturous. You aced your exam and were out of the classroom within half an hour, and stopped for another coffee at the campus cafe on your way to your next class. You wanted to be back with Ken. You hated how fast he had turned your world upside down, especially dealing with the aftermath of a really scary relationship that you were still slowly working to heal from. You had been in the midst of a mental collapse when Ken showed up in your life. You now wondered how much of an unconscious decision inviting him into your home had been about possibly just not living alone so you felt a bit more safe.
You got through your next class decently easily, considering how boring the lectures were in this one, but kept spacing out for some reason today. Your memories with your ex kept ravaging your mind despite how hard you fought them, and it was difficult to focus on taking class notes. The professor called on you to answer a question and, despite feeling like you knew it, answered incorrectly, and that got into your head, making you feel even worse about, well, everything at the moment. You were so grateful when the professor announced everyone could leave and reminded when next week’s homework assignments were due.
Zoey texted that she had a family emergency and wasn’t able to drive you home as you left the classroom. You sent her your best and told her to let you know how you could help when she needed it. You decided to take the bus, which didn’t drop you off super close to your condo, but it was closer than walking from campus. The bus took ages, as there was a huge traffic jam on the road leading up to the bus stop. When you finally managed to get to the station near your house and got off, a masked man jumped out from around the corner of the building you were walking around with a knife and started ordering you to throw him your bag, approaching you swiftly. You screamed, whipping the heavy book bag into the criminal’s face as hard as you could before turning on your heel and sprinting away. The criminal was knocked down by how hard you had managed to hit him, and thankfully your scream alerted an couple other passerby’s and they started yelling at the guy, who stood as fast as he could and ran in the opposite direction. Once you knew he was definitely out of sight, you slowed your pace a little, finally at the last crosswalk that separated you from your home.
It had rained while you were in class, and as you were able to cross the street, a car zoomed by way over the speed limit and you got doused with a muddy puddle. You stared ahead in disbelief, but grit you teeth and began to walk home a little faster. You hadn’t had a panic attack in awhile, and didn’t want to involve Ken in any of the shit you were suddenly battling again in your head, AND after having just a kinda stupid day. You calmed your breathing as you approached your home, wanting to just shower in peace and hopefully calm down and not worry about anything the rest of the day.
You entered your condo dirty and exhausted. Ken was in the doorway, grinning, like he had been standing there all day. You looked up through wet eyelashes at him to see his demeanor change instantly, walking towards you.
“What happened?” He was so concerned. His hands danced around, trying to figure out what to do, reaching for your book bag then retreating his hand.
“I just….hmmm,” you worked hard to keep your composure. You didn’t want to break down in front of him. “I just need to shower, and, uh, then we can….whatever…”
He heard the defeat in your voice, and he looked so concerned. “How do I help?”
You smiled a little. “There’s nothing you can do, Ken. Just one of those days.” You patted his arm. “I’ll be fine, just need a bit.”
“Oh, okay,” Ken paused, glancing towards the bedroom. “Uh, so, I need you to close your eyes when walking to the bathroom.”
You eyed him. “Why, Ken?”
He seemed distressed. “You’ll see, but later. Can I cover your eyes?”
You were too tired to play games, even though he was being sincere. “I’ll just close my eyes, you can guide me to the bathroom.”
Ken nodded, looking determined. You closed your eyes, offering him your wet hand, and he slowly helped you get into the bathroom, closing the door behind the two of you.
“I can open my eyes now?”
“Yes.”
He stared at you, sad, looking helpless.
“Can I help you get these off?” He reached for your wet clothes.
You gently stopped his hand. “I’m good, Ken. Thank you. I just need a moment alone.”
He looked a little crushed, but nodded, still learning how to navigate this new emotion coming from you.
“Okay, y/n. I’m, uh, I’ll be just outside the door if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Ken.”
You peeled off your wet clothes we he closed the door, shivering from feeling so cold. You turned the shower on to hot, leaning your hands onto the sink counter as you breathed intentionally, still trying not to cry. You needed to cry but felt scared too, but for whatever reason you weren’t sure why. You walked into the hot shower, focusing on enjoying its warmth and began to lather the dirty off of yourself, shampooing your hair, staring towards the floor the whole time.
When you were finally clean, you leaned your head into the wall, slowly allowing yourself to finally leak some tears. Your head spun, and then the sobs came quick and hard. You sank down onto the tile floor, your body heaving, and your wrapped your arms around your legs, hugging yourself as you experienced your release.
You heard the shower door open. Ken stood there, naked, and walked into the shower with you, closing the door. You stared up at him with bloodshot eyes, trembling lips, the shower water falling over your figure. You could see him racking his brain on what to do.
He sat down beside you, the side of frame gently touching your own, as the shower wasn’t big enough to allow you enough space to not be in bodily contact. He copied your stance of hugging your legs, and looked down at the floor.
“I’m not sure what is wrong, but I didn’t want you to be alone.” His voice echoed softly in the tiled room.
You felt safe. It was sudden, it was amazing, and it made your heart ache even more somehow. Shame racked your entire being and you began to sob again, Ken sitting quietly next to you, and his silent company somehow made it easier to experience your pain.
He allowed you as much time as you needed, and when you began to calm down a little, exhausted more than ever, you covered your face with your hands, mortified. You felt Ken’s hand gently touch your forearm.
“What’s wrong?” He asked so tenderly it made you want to cry again.
You shook your head. “I…can’t…”
He waited patiently for you to finish.
“I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it right now,” you said between shaky breaths.
Ken nodded. “That’s okay.” He paused, before asking, “I just want to make sure it’s not something I did to you.”
You looked up at him now, his beautiful face gazing down at yours. You shook your head. “No, Ken. You have only been wonderful to me.”
His anxiety relaxed, and he nodded again. “Whatever it is, I will keep you safe.”
You had no idea why he said that, but maybe somehow his intuition was way more evolved than you realized. A few more tears ran down your face. “Thank you, Ken.”
“I want to help.”
“You are helping.” You sniffed and leaned your head on his shoulder, allowing his calming presence to relax you a little.
🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 🫶 (End of trauma response section)
Ken looked over and saw the bruise he had left on your shoulder area earlier that day. He looked alarmed. “Who did this to you?”
You laughed now, and he startled at that. “You did. When you suck too hard sometimes, you can bruise my skin. We call them hickeys.”
Ken stared. “I…didn’t mean -“
“I know,” you wrapped your arms around his. “It doesn’t hurt, I just have to cover it up when I’m out. Well, I guess I choose to cover it up.”
“Why?”
“It’s kind of an indication that I’m having sex with someone.”
Ken looked confused. “Is that a bad? That people would know?”
You paused, thinking. “I suppose not? It’s just not something a lot of people want others to randomly know, I guess. Hickeys can also be seen as marks of ownership.”
“Ownership?”
“Yeah, like a kink thing. Kind of a, I’ll leave a hickey on you because I want others to know you’re mine.”
Ken’s wheels were spinning. “Kink thing…”
“I’ll explain kinks later, if that’s alright.” You put your chin on his shoulder now, looking up at him.
“Uhh, so, people will see your hickey and assume you are,” he lowered his voice, “mine?”
“Well, not specifically ‘yours,’ as they don’t know who you are, but it could be seen as an indication that someone marks me as a means of calling me their own.”
“Ah.” Ken was working hard to appear nonchalant, but you definitely noticed him processing that information.
Your exhausted state of mind was causing your body to slowly come down from the day, and being this close to Ken, feeling he sensitive he was to wanting to understand you and the world around him was such an easy turn-on. You reached a hand over and placed it on his chest. His pecs swelled when he in-took a sharp breath at your touch.
“You’re so kind to me. Can I return the favor?” You traced your finger down his sternum. A small moan grew from the back of his throat
“You’re sure?” He asked, although suddenly struggling to keep his composure. You LOVED how easily he was turned on by you.
“Mmmhmm. Want to make you feel good.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“What would you like *me* to do?” You repeated back to him, your hand now reaching for his cock, which was already hardening.
“I…don’t…if you are tired -“
“I’m not too tired for you.” You kneeled, turning his face in your hands. “Let me take care of you, my sweet boy.”
That did it. In one swift movement, Ken stood up, bringing you up with him into a standing position. He pressed you into the shower wall, the slight sting of the cold tile awakening all of your senses.
“Gonna make you wet for me,” he said, hooking one of your legs around his waist and holding it there as his now fully hardened cock began rubbing in-between your folds. You moaned loudly at the sparks that exploded in your abdomen.
He reached around with his other hand to grab your butt and you giggled a little when you realized this was his first time really touching you there. He discovered that he could maneuver your hips to move in rhythm with his own this way, and he moaned in awe as he watching your two bodies move together.
His breathing was becoming louder now.
“What do you want, Ken?”
“Just want you,” he shuddered, rubbing into you harder now. You moaned loudly at the way his cock was beautifully massaging your clit. “Just so desperate for you.”
You put your hands on his chest. “Why don’t we take this to bed?” You asked, wanting to be able to pleasure him while he relaxed.
Ken shook his head at first. “Need you now,” he said, hips beginning to buck a little faster, then he slowed his pace, remembering something. “Ohhh, oh yeah. Yes.” He stopped his movement. “Okay, yeah we should go to the bed.”
You cocked your head trying to figure out his change of mind when you recalled he had asked you to close your eyes on the way to the bathroom.
Ken turned off the shower water and stepped out, wrapping you in a towel first so you would stay warm. He hurriedly dried himself off and then tried to help you, which made you laugh, as he only got in the way, but your laugh made him smile, and that felt good to see.
“Okay,” he said, reaching for your hand but then pulling back.
“What’s with the sudden shyness?” You asked.
“Just want you to be happy.”
“I’ll be happy. Can I see now?”
He nodded, then reached back for your hand, which you accepted. He opened the bathroom door and you stepped into the bedroom, and your heart melted.
Ken had put candles on the bedside tables, different colors, all lit, and the bed was covered in fresh rose petals. You looked at him.
“You did this?”
He grinned, pleased to see you liked it. “Yeah. I found this app thing called Pin Interest and uh, looked up things girls like, and I found a picture of something like this. I didn’t know what color you liked best so I got all the colors I could find,” he said, indicating the candles.
You giggled, wanting to correct him that the app was called “Pintrest,” but decided it didn’t really matter. “You went and got all this?”
“Yeah, I took the cash you left for me and went shopping. Although,” he looked confused again, “three different people gave me their phone numbers on the way there and back. I’m not sure what to do with them? Am I supposed to call them about something?”
“Forget the numbers, Ken.” You laughed, and pulled him towards the bed. “Okay, lay down.”
Ken shook his head, and picked you up bridal style. He got onto the bed and placed you in front of him so your back was pressed against his chest and torso, and he reached for a cup on the bedside table.
“You always make this when you seem stressed after class, so I made you some when you got into the shower.” He handed you a cup of your favorite hot tea with a sliver of lemon, just the way you always made it. Had he paid this close attention to you?
You felt like crying again. No one had ever thought about caring for you this way. He wrapped his arms around your waist contentedly as you took a sip.
“It’s perfect, Ken.” You smiled up at him, eyes teary. “*You’re* perfect.”
He looked so happy at you, and reached forward towards your cup. “I just want you to feel loved.” He felt like a wall behind you, secure as you leaned fully back into him, and he rested his chin softly onto your hickey.
“I do,” you wanted to say, but something in you chocked the words down. Instead, you turned to kiss him, and he kissed you back. His kisses were so wonderfully warm and soft. When you two pulled apart, he reached a hand near your cup.
“May I?” He asked.
You didn’t know what he was asking to do but you nodded anyway, and he dipped two fingers into the tea, stirring them around in it for a moment before bringing them up to your lips. Ahhhh, he discovered he really liked his fingers in your mouth. You took them between your lips and sucked on them while Ken watched as his pupils dilated. You licked them for a moment before letting them free, and he looked like he was in a daze.
“Remember how my mouth felt on your cock?’
He nodded, silent.
“Would you like me to do that again?”
“I do. Been thinking about it all day.”
“You’re so patient, you deserve to be rewarded.”
Ken made a soft sound at that, and you decided you’d have to keep praising him the rest of the night, he was so hot when he reacted to it.
You reached over to set your tea down, Ken loosening his grip on you just enough to do so, then tightening it again. You pushed at his arms.
“I need to get up so I can pleasure you,” you purred.
“MMhmm. In a little while.”
You gasped when he hooked his legs underneath yours, ankles wrapping around yours, and opening your legs for him.
“Ken, it’s your turn, remember?”
“Gotta make you wet first,” Ken his fingers back into your mouth, and you knew this was already becoming addictive to him.
“Ken, I promise you, I’m plenty wet,” you said when he pulled his fingers out a moment later.
Ken shook his head. “Don’t want to hurt you,” and with your saliva on his fingers, he began running his fingers up and down your vulva, from opening to clit.
Your head fell back onto his shoulder, and if your eyes had been open you would have seen him gazing adoringly at you. His fingers teased your entrance, dipping in only the tiniest bit before circling it and then going back up to rub on your clit.
“Ken, please,” you begged, your legs shaking a little. “Please let me just pleasure you. I need to. I need to right now.”
“Later.” He pushed two fingers inside of you, curling them right as he entered, and immediately hit your g-spot, causing you to cry out.
“Ken, Ken, Ken…” his name on your lips like a prayer. He was hypnotized by you. You squeezed hard around his fingers as he sped up the pace, holding you in place with his legs. Fucking hell if he wasn’t a virgin you would force him down, ride his face until you collapsed, and then make him fuck you until you lost control over all rhyme and reason.
“Fuck you until you lose what?”
His voice startled you but you couldn’t be bothered to full re-enter reality with the way he was touching you. “What?”
“You were mumbling.”
Oh fuck you couldn’t even trust your thoughts to yourself. You needed to gain back control which would take great difficulty as he swirled his fingers inside you, deeper, feeling every crevice he could find.
“Need you to stop,” you gasped. “Please.”
“Why?” He asked, slowing his pace the tiniest bit.
“Because I want to orgasm on your cock.”
He stopped then and you opened your eyes, watching him contemplate how that would feel.
“The way you squeeze and spasm around my fingers…”
“Yes,” you reached behind you and gripped his throbbing member in your hand, “but around here instead.”
He finally decided to listen and slowly removed his fingers from you. You decided to make him happy and sucked your juices from his fingers, and he shuddered again watching his digits disappear into your mouth. You released them, then looked up at him firmly.
“Now lay back like a good Ken.”
His eyes glazed over a little and he immediately complied, laying down, the rose petals on the bed moving around the two of you as you straddled his hips.
“What would you like first, sweet Ken?”
“Anything you’ll do to me,” he choked out as you rubbed your wet vulva over his cock and ran your fingers down his lower abs, those fucking perfect muscles flexing in time with his spasms.
“Good Ken.” You leaned down and, continuing your slow rubbing on his cock, kissed from his lips, down his neck, to his chest which was heaving with heavy breaths. You smirked at him as the tip of your tongue traced one of his nipples. He grabbed your hips and bucked into you, and you smiled now as you began licking and gently biting him there.
“Ohh! I can’t..fuck, y/n, what….this feels so…” he groaned when you left his nipple for a moment to suck hard on the area of his peck above it, using teeth and staring up at him as he watched you mark him. When you pulled back, the small bruise was already beginning to form, and his eyes shone at you. You realized then maybe marking him for fun might not have been the *best* idea, since he had reacted the strongest to the idea that a hickey represented someone claiming someone else….but you decided you’d figure that out later.
You continued down his abs, licking up and down and he gripped your hair tightly when you reached down to hold his balls.
“Y/N!” He cried, his entire body shaking a little.
“You’re doing so good, Ken. Taking everything I’m giving you so well. You’re handling it all so, so well.”
He regained a little confidence at that but lost everything again when you took his member into your mouth, sucking hard at the tip before lowering your mouth as far to his base as you could. He trembled and made the most wonderful noises you had ever heard, your free hand firmly gripping his base and moving in time with your mouth.
“It’s…..ahhhh! It’s too much,” he gasped shakily, and you paused softly, removing your mouth from him, and climbing back up onto his hips.
“Are you okay, sweet boy? Is it hurting you?”
He stared up at you, and he looked so innocent, so overwhelmed. “I’m trying,” he promised.
“You don’t have to try. This is supposed to feel good.”
“It *does* feel good.” It seemed he wasn’t gaining back any control of his body despite the break from you pleasuring him, and he began to tremble. You took his lips in yours, intentionally moaning into his mouth, and he kissed you back so hard, with so much love, you swear you felt it full your entire being.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he whispered, face flushed.
“Why on earth would you disappoint me?” You asked, brushing back a hair from his forehead. He looked so emotional, and then you understood. You had been intimidated and felt oddly shameful and sad your first time, too. You just hadn’t thought that a man could feel the same way, at least it hadn’t crossed your mind until now.
“Everything you are feeling,” you said softly, Ken hanging on your every word, “is normal. But there’s no reason to feel bad about any of this. You’re safe. All of you, all of this, it’s beautiful. It’s special.”
He stared at you, so much trust in his eyes.
“Would you like me to keep going? Or should we stop for awhile?”
He shook his head, running his fingers up and down your back, giving you such a lovely shiver.
“I want everything. I want you.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, small, but certain. “Please.”
You smiled at him. You promised yourself you’d be gentle, and you would. You wanted to make this beyond amazing for him. You held his cock, huge in your hand, and thought for a second about how maybe you should have let him finger you a bit longer to stretch you open, but you would definitely make do. You lined him up underneath you, and placed his hands on your hips.
“I know it’s your first time, but I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” you stated. Ken had no idea what you were talking about but assumed since you were the one saying it that he would love it.
His eyes grew wide as you achingly slowly lowered yourself onto his tip, and his hands gripped your hips so tightly you knew you’d have fresh bruises when this was over. That made you feel so turned on that you lowered yourself further, keeping your eyes on Ken, making sure he was alright with everything as it was happening. He cried out when you fully bottomed out onto his cock, and you moaned loudly as how long and thick he was. You definitely *were* in pain, but FUCK if it wasn’t so incredible and you were soaking up every moment of it.
“You okay, my sweet boy? Are you taking all of this like a good Ken?” You lifted yourself back up, almost letting him fully out of you before lowering yourself back down, having you balance yourself with your hands on his chest because he was causing you so much pleasure but still adjusting to his size. Ken’s head rolled back into the pillows, shuddering, hips twitching underneath you.
You were going to fuck him out of his mind. You began moving a little faster and he spit out the most incredible noises and half-coherent words.
“You are so….ah…bea - I ohhh….tight…you’re so TIGHT…I’m…so good…y/n…it’s, ahh, please, please…”
Your hips moved faster once you were physically able to stand his size, and you panted, focusing on keeping a steady pace as his whole body writhed underneath you.
“Mmmm, you fuck me so well,” you gasped, and he opened his eyes - those gorgeous, blue, being fucked-out-of-his-mind eyes - and looked so proud and happy that he was able to make you feel this good. The fact that he was still so focused on your pleasure when he was literally experiencing intercourse for the first time made you even hotter, and you began bouncing up and down on his cock.
He yelled out in surprise, hands shaking, and you removed them from your hips to your breasts, which he took between his strong fingers and squeezed, your head falling back and you letting out breathy moans.
Ken started getting close to his climax and you could tell, he was becoming even less coherent, and his hands moved around on you, trying to find somewhere to grip but not knowing where to land. You realized he looked a little scared. You leaned forward but didn’t stop your pace while you fucked him.
“Are you okay, my Ken?”
He didn’t answer, just took both of your wrists in his hands. You slowed your pace now, and placed both of your hands on his face. As always, he relaxed a little, his face brightening, and he leaned his cheek into one of your palms.
“Can you help me finish you like this?” He closed his eyes, taking in your scent as your hair fell a little into his face, but he nodded. “Can you put your feet on the bed, bend your knees?”
He complied, and now his cock was buried *deeep* inside of you, both of you moaning loudly in unison.
You kept your hands on his face. “Are you ready, sweet Ken? My good Ken?”
He opened his eyes, completely lost in you.
“Yes, please,” he whispered. You began riding him again and shuddered so hard he had to grip your hips to balance you. He was so fucking deep from this angle you swore he might hit your cervix.
“I’ve got you,” you soothed as you regained some composure and got back into a steady pace. Ken was panting now, every muscle tensed and fucking fuck he was so goddamn strong and chiseled and flawless. He almost yelped when you took a hand back to reach down and press into a spot directly above his cock. You had learned this from a sex magazine ages ago, about how men had a special little “g spot” too to a degree in their groin area there, but had never tried it. Apparently the magazine was telling the truth because Ken seemed to lose all control after that.
He bucked up into you, hard, and you screamed in a mix of pleasure and pain, chanting his name over and over again as you swore your voice would become hoarse from how loud you were having to be to release some of this internal pressure. You felt surrounded by him - his body, his energy, the smell of the rose petals around the two of you mixing with his scent. You were in heaven.
You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm hit hard, washing over and over and over again, and if you had been looking you would have seen Ken smiling up at you right before he lost all control himself - feeling you squeeze and spasm around him, hearing you yelling his name over and over again, watching you experience intense pleasure because of him, while on top of him, with him inside you. You were beautiful, so beautiful. He fucked into you fast and hard, chasing his orgasm that exploded his entire being into fireworks, his vision seeing stars as he lost any idea of how he was moving or what was happening around him, only that he felt SO so amazing, and that you were there with him. He sobbed your name as he rode out his pleasure, his body going limp the moment he was through.
You both worked to catch your breath, eyes focusing on each other, and you smiled, exhausted, down at him. He smiled back, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You were so thankful he didn’t seem scared or embarrassed by it, because you knew that it meant he felt safe.
He whines, visibly unhappy, when you pulled yourself off of him. You laid down next to him on your side, facing him, your body spent. He turned on his side, too, and hooked your leg around his waist, then wrapped his arm around your torso, holding you close. He thrust back up into you completely . You yelped, grasping his strong arm in shock.
“Wanna stay here,” he mumbles, trying to look dominant but his expression being obvious that he was hoping you wouldn’t make him leave. To prove his point, he pushed himself impossibly deeper into you ever so softly, but now it was your turn to see stars, and you felt like you would cry now.
“Please, Ken,” you begged. “I’m really tender right now.”
“I know,” he said, barely moving his hips but still stroking his still rock-hard cock in and out. Goosebumps covered your flesh.
“How are you still able to do this??” Tears actually begun forming now. Your body was telling you it couldn’t take any more but somehow it was, and you couldn’t seem to manage to make yourself push him away no matter how loud you yelled at your body to do so.
“Am I not supposed to be able to do this?” He asked genuinely.
“Most men can’t…ahhhhh…” you faltered, your head falling into his chest as his cock rubbed every inch of the top of your opening, your g-spot getting perfectly stimulated with the rest of your muscle tightening around him.
“Most men can’t what?”
“Do this again so soon,” you choked.
“Mmmmm.” He acknowledged his understanding, then placed a kiss on your forehead. “But I’m not most men.”
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blushweddinggowns · 6 months
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It had started as a rough few weeks. A rough few weeks that turned into a rough few months. It was weird, because in all honesty when it came to social standings, Will was doing a lot better here than he ever did in Hawkins. There were no Zombie Boy stories following him here, and he even managed to get a few girls to have a crush on him. He…still wasn’t quite clear how that worked out and he really wasn’t a fan of it. But they were also the only people he could talk to at school. He was way too paranoid of getting close to any guys. God forbid he got another crush on a friend, having none of them just seemed like the better course of action. 
It didn’t help that Mike had basically stopped acknowledging that he existed after they moved. He didn’t write to him, he didn’t call him, and it felt like the only time he heard his voice was when he politely asked for El over the phone. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially when he still put in so much effort to get ahold of El all the time. He’d resent her for it if he could, but the only one who was having a worse time than him with the move was her. Maybe Mike was a shitty friend to him, but at least she had someone to talk to. 
But whatever. Lucas and Dustin cared, and so did Eddie and Steve. And when Jonathan wasn’t busy being high as hell, he had him too. Even Max called him more often than Mike did. Even when she was just trying to get ahold of El she’d take the time to ask him how he was, a courtesy that his best friend from freaking kindergarten couldn’t even offer anymore. 
So maybe Will didn’t have many friends in California yet, but he didn’t feel very lonely. 
Just a little heartbroken. 
But he could get past it. Especially when some of his favorite people were only one phone call away. Sometimes it made him feel a little guilty, that Steve and Eddie were his go to for talking about his problems. Especially since Jonathan was always trying to get him to open up. Even when he was zoinked out of his gourd he never failed to ask Will how his day was. Though…he did have a hard time following the plot when Will told him. 
But that didn’t change the fact that Jonathan always wanted to help. But what could Will say? I’m depressed because I’m in love with my best friend who doesn’t care about me? And oh yeah, I’m gay? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen. If Jonathan of all people hated him for that…he’s not sure he could recover. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it.
It was kind of pathetic, but he’d fantasize about it sometimes. Coming out to his family, everyone smiling and saying they’d love him anyway, no matter what. And if he was being honest with himself, it was technically possible, right? His brother had never said a bad word about Steve and Eddie. His mom never failed to shut the homophobic crap down when his crappy sperm donor had still been around. But it was different when it was your own kid, right? Will wasn’t quite sure. But he did know that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 
So he called who he always did when he had a problem. It only took a few rings before someone was picking up, Steve’s familiar voice on the other end, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Will sighed, flopping face first into his bed, the phone pressed to his ear. 
He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”
God, he was such a dad. Will wouldn’t be shocked if he started wearing socks with sandals by the time he hit twenty-three. He went straight to the point, “Do you think that living happily ever after is like a real thing? For people like us?”
Steve laughed, “It better fucking be after all the shit we’ve seen.”
“I don’t mean the Upside Down stuff,” Will sighed, “I mean like…y’know. The gay.”
Steve snorted, “The gay? I’m going to have to tell Eddie that one.”
Will rolled his eyes at the redundant statement. He had learned a long time ago that telling Steve something meant telling Eddie something, and vice versa. He sighed a tiny smile on his face, “Oh what, like he’s not already next to you listening in?”
“...touché.” 
Will laughed, turning over to stare at the ceiling, “I’m serious though. Like…is it even possible? It’s not like everyone gets to magically find their soulmate at eight.”
“Is that such a bad thing though?” Steve asked, “Because no offense dude but honestly? I think you could do a lot better than Mike-”
“Be nice,” Will interrupted, torn between being defensive for Mike’s sake and amused at Steve never failing to find a way to come at him.
“I will when he starts being nice to me.”
“Well that’s just not going to happen,” Will laughed, “I’m starting to think Eddie’s right to call you a brat.”
Steve gasped, loud and scandalized. He’d been hanging out with Robin too much, “Me?! Never!”
Will could barely hear it over the receiver, but he could hear Eddie’s faint voice coming through, Yes he is!
And it was making him laugh even harder. Will missed this, so much. He missed having a place where he could just say whatever he wanted, with no worries. Even now he was looking over his shoulder, anxious at the chance that his mom or a sibling could come bursting in at any moment to catch him in the act of being comfortable. It was a confusing and weird feeling, and probably a little unfair to assume they’d prefer him to be sad and quiet over happy and queer. But he still did.
But for now he was safe. And he might as well take the chance to speak on all the things he couldn’t with anyone else, “But what if I don’t want to do better than Mike? Like…it’s stupid but do you think that um, I would ever have a chance?”
The answer was a strong no, but sometimes Will just needed a reality check from someone else’s mouth. 
Steve sighed, “I think the odds are pretty low bud. All jokes aside, even if he was playing for our team, I’m not sure if he’s the type who could even accept it. Y’know?”
Will did know, unfortunately. And if he’d never met Eddie and Steve there was a solid chance he’d be that guy. The truth stung a bit, but it was necessary, “I know, I know. But…do you think he would accept me? If he ever found out?”
“He fucking better. Otherwise I’ll-”
Will heard a shuffle on the other end, paired with something that sounded suspiciously like whining before he heard Eddie’s voice, “Will? You there? Sorry about that. I had to take the phone away before he started talking about beating up a child.”
Will grinned, happy to hear Eddie’s voice, “You made the right call. Do you think they’ll ever get along?”
“Not in this lifetime,” Eddie sighed, “And I know Mike’s not perfect, but if he’s okay with us why wouldn’t he be with you?”
“But it’s different when it’s a friend, isn’t it?” Will asked, “I’m not even sure if my mom would accept it, let alone him.”
“Well first of all, you don’t have to tell anyone shit, okay? But I can promise you that Joyce would be fine with it. And so would Jonathan for that matter. And I don’t even know if El is aware of what homophobia even is.”
It all sounded a lot more believable out of Eddie’s mouth than what was going on in his own head. But still… “What if they don’t though? What if I tell them and they kick me out or something? Or make me go to therapy?”
“Okay, on the off, off chance that you tell them and Joyce suddenly became a monster overnight, we’ll go to plan B. Steve and I will drive up there to kidnap you and you can live in Indy with us.”
Will grinned. He could live with that, “Can’t we just make that Plan A?”
“No, because your family loves you, as they should by the way. And this won’t bother them, I swear. Plus, telling them on your own terms is a lot less awkward than getting caught in the act.”
Will didn’t even want to know what Eddie was alluding to with that one. Poor Wayne, “But what if we’re wrong?”
He wanted to believe him, he really did, but stranger things had happened outside of gay people being disowned. 
“Will, listen to me,” Eddie said, his voice confident enough to make Will perk up, “I swear on Steve’s life, okay? There is no way in hell anyone in that house is gonna reject you for this.”
Will blinked, a little shocked at just how much faith he had in his family. More than he did, “Really?”
“Really. Trust me on this man, you’re going to be fine.”
They hung up pretty soon after that, mostly because El started knocking on his door for the phone. The conversation made him feel a bit better, but also…nervous. Could he really tell them? Would it all just work out? Just like that? Will wasn’t so sure. 
He decided against doing it right away despite Eddie’s own confidence. But he did start to drop a few feelers. He started with Jonathan, waiting until he was high enough for him to forget the conversation if it didn’t go well. And that wasn’t a long wait. 
He found him and his new friend sprawled out in his room, Fast Times playing in the background as they both stared into space. Though Will wasn’t quite sure he could count what Argyle was doing as staring. He’s eyes were barely open, and Will was 90 percent sure he was passed out. But that was good for him, now was as good a time as any. 
Jonathan smiled at him as he wandered in, his words kind but slurring, “Hey! What’s up? You never come in here. You wanna watch something or…?”
Will shook his head, his heart aching a little at the way it made his brother frown. Maybe he really had been neglecting him, too caught up in his own head to spend time with the closest thing he had to a Dad. 
It made him feel a little bad, but that wasn’t what he was here for, “No thanks. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure!” Jonathan said, way too excited at the prospect of a simple question, but maybe that was the weed, “What’s up?”
Will shrugged, casually leaning against the door. Or at least he hoped it looked casual, because his heart was beating a mile per minute, “Steve said that his and Eddie’s anniversary is coming up soon. Do you think I should send them something?”
Jonathan tilted his head up to look at him, his eyes bloodshot with a tiny smile on his face, “That’s like…so nice dude. You’re always so nice. How are you so nice?”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Will pressed, hope fluttering in his chest, “To be, y’know, celebrating them like that?”
Jonathan shook his head, “Nah man. It’s like…romance. Y’know? It’s sweet.”
“Yeah dude, gay guys are cool,” Argyle agreed out of nowhere, his eyes still closed,  “Good for Stu and Eggie. Gay people got like, the best hair.”
Will didn’t really know what to do with that one. But Jonathan was impressed. He jerked his head back to stare at Argyle, his voice in awe, “How’d you know he had good hair? I never told you he had good hair.”
“I bet they both have good hair,” Argyle sighed, “They alway do.”
“Are you like, psychic?” Jonathan asked, like that made any sense at all.
“Shit, you think I could be?”
Will watched as the two of them started to debate the idea, his brow raised. God, weed sure was a hell of a drug. He left them to it after that, deciding to slowly back out of the room. But he was going to chalk it up as a positive. 
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Bad For Business: Level One
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.3K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.
“You’re late.”
“No I’m not.”
You were. Twenty five minutes, in fact, and your stomach was still swirling from the night before, remnants of cheap beer and cheaper vodka mixing unhappily with the cold, strawberry pop-tart you’d force fed yourself on the way to work. 
Steve Harrington leant against the wall with a grin as he watched you struggle to clock in, the old machine chewing up your employee card before it finally stamped it. You pushed past him, shoulder into his in a way that was awfully familiar now. The blunt words, the eye rolls, the semi serious acts of violence all part of your work day and they had been since last summer. He didn’t give in to you, arms colliding, the smell of his cologne now on your T-shirt too. 
“Hungover?” Steve asked, enjoying the way you squinted against the harsh, fluorescent strip lights. 
The office was much quieter than the arcade outside of the staff doors and you were trying your best to stay away from the sounds of Super Mario and Pac-Man for as long as you could. Except Steve wasn’t making it easy. 
“No,” you lied again. You were so hungover, stupidly hungover. And tired. You’d barely managed to crawl back through your bedroom window when the sun was beginning to rise, the summer outside starting back up as the sky turned apricot and the birds sang. Eddie had walked you home, both of you sharing the last dregs from a lukewarm beer before he bent at the waist and let you use his back as a footstool, groaning and swearing at you as you took too long to grab the end of the broken trellis. “What’s with the fucking interrogation, Harrington? Did Murray die and leave you in charge?”
Outside the office, the arcade machines jingled, beeping and ringing with each win and loss, the constant clinkclinkclink of quarters being dropped into the coin slots, the yells of sugared up kids making your head pound. 
“Nah,” Steve’s grin only widened, an almost smirk that made you grit your teeth together. You busied yourself at your locker, shoving your bag into the too small space, the rattle of the metal hurting your very being. “Seeing you each morning is just the best part of my day.” 
You rolled your eyes at Steve’s blatant lie, snorting at the possibility you could both be anything close to friends. Steve Harrington lived to annoy you, and had done since middle school. He spent the first couple of grades annoying you at recess, pulling your hair and snickering with his friends when you yelled, all pink cheeked and shocked looking when you stomped towards him, indignant, shoving the heel of your buttercup yellow shoe into his toes. 
It went on like that, spitballs launched from each end of the classroom, backs of chairs kicked and faces pulled at the other during presentations. Then you both got older and the words got colder, scathing remarks made in the hallway, lockers defaced with semi serious insults and potential dates ruined by mocking comments said in front of crushes. 
Then high school was over, Hawkins seemed to get smaller and the only job available to get you enough cash to leave the tiny, backwater town was a position beside Steve at Upside Down Arcade. Run by someone who everyone only knew as Murray - a man who had absolutely no time for anyone under the age of twenty five and was utterly inept with technology - the arcade was a staple in Hawkins. As permanent a feature as the community pool, the town hall and the library; the brown brick building looked bland from the street outside, but stepping in the doors led kids into a maze of gaming machines, air hockey tables and neon lights. 
The carpets had seen better days, the Space Invaders themed pattern a headache of dulled yellows, purples reds and greens, the painted black walls barely seen behind the rows and rows of games, all brightly light and beeping, illuminations flashing pink and blue, leaderboard charts mocking on the screens. 
It smelled like burnt sugar and stale popcorn, despite the machine not having worked for over a decade. A heavy mix of all things bad for you: sour candy, old hotdogs, cherry slush stains and pre-teen hormones. 
“If I’m somehow even bringing you the slightest bit of joy with my presence, Harrington,” you deadpanned, “then I’m doing it wrong.” You slammed the locker door shut and smirked when Steve had to yank his hand back, fingers narrowly avoided. 
He narrowed his eyes at you, moving only to grab his name badge from the board, making sure he knocked yours onto the floor when he shoved the bundle of keys into his pocket that opened up all the coin slots. 
“Murray’s not in until later, Donkey Kong is fried and oh,” he clicked his fingers and pointed a digit at you, all faux sympathy making his face soften. “I knocked you off the top spot on Dig Dug. Again.”
You glared. Steve grinned. 
 You wanted to say something sharp, something witty and mean, but your head was still pounding and your throat felt like the Sahara Desert. “Bite me, Steven,” you muttered instead, shoving past the boy so you could get out the door first, for no other reason than simply to feel like you’d won something. 
Steve was too close behind you when he answered, all charm and flirt, the cadence of his voice dropped to the level he used when he flirted with the older girls that brought in their baby siblings. 
“Bend over then, Princess Peach,” he cooed, “at least lemme see what I’m working with.” His voice was at your ear, his stupid hair tickling at your cheek. 
The stupid nickname made your nostrils flare, but the suggestive comment before it had your toes curling. You scoffed, shocked, because as the summer crawled by and the heat got higher, you and Steve’s snipes were getting more and more below the belt.
But that was his bravest yet. 
You didn’t bother turning round, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and Jesus, you were sure your cheeks were flushed - but if he dared comment on it, you would’ve blamed it on the hangover you told him you didn’t have. 
“You���re a pig,” you bit out, ignoring how he kept close behind you as you finally braved opening the door. 
The arcade was already full to the brim, bursting with kids, a line of them at the desk, ticket stubs clutched in sticky hands, dollar bills ready to be exchanged for bags full of coins. The door almost hit Steve when you let it go behind you, his hands barely catching it as he scowled at your retreating figure. You planned to lurk in the darkest corner of the arcade for your entire shift, maybe sipping on a stolen slurpee, biding your time and waiting for your headache to soften enough in order to conjure a formulated attack on the Dig Dug machine. 
You turned around just before Steve served the first customer, narrowing your eyes at him in suspicion. He was already behind the cash register, Erica Sinclairs bundle of tickets in his hands as the girl pointed at a toy sword in the cabinet. 
“And don’t even try and pretend you haven’t looked before,” you called back to him, smug and referring to his lewd comment before. “Oh, ‘lemme see what I’m working with’,” you mimicked. “You’re not sly, asshole.”
A few kids tittered at the insult, Dustin Henderson snorting especially loud, but some gasped at how you cursed in front of them, a sure fire way to know there’d be a hand written complaint about on Murray’s desk tomorrow. You’d hoped your jab would make Steve shrink, maybe blush like he used to when you got all brave and bold with him. Shit, maybe he’d even had the right to look ashamed. 
But he simply shrugged, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking at you but his expression was still the same. 
Pleased. Too cocky. Challenging. 
You went straight to Dig Dug. 
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1K notes · View notes
wordbunch · 9 months
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SFW Alphabet: Legolas
a/n: no idea who requested it, but boy am I glad they did!!! 💛 it will be big (just like my love for him) cause I got carried away, but I do hope you will enjoy it!! feedback and reblogs are always SO appreciated and mean a lot to me. and once again, Legolas is so AAAAA 😍😍😍
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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) He is very affectionate and incredibly warm, subtly in front of others, but almost boundlessly when you two are alone. In a dangerous situation, even if you’re not alone, he won’t hesitate, though, to hug you as tightly as he needs to in order to reassure both himself and you that everything is alright. Legolas shows affection in any way possible: hugs, kisses wherever he can reach, holding your hand or just having a hand on your back/shoulders in public, touching your hair, even in the way he looks at you it is obvious how smitten he is.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) He would honestly be an amazing friend (canon!), loyal to a fault, protective, and even if paths of life take you away from each other, he’d always have love for you. It would start perhaps during an adventure of his? If not, maybe even in childhood. He really gives me lifelong friends vibes. 
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) To be fair, he didn’t have many cuddle sessions in his life, so he’s not exactly completely used to them, but he will savor every opportunity to shower his beloved with love so… if that is your preferred way of showing affection, he totally has nothing against it! But it wouldn’t be his number one expression of love and physical closeness. However, he cannot and won’t say no to a cuddle session after a demanding day, and he is quite a big fan of being the little spoon or laying with his head on your chest as your fingers brush through his shiny hair. 
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) He is a tidy person and he can clean his space decently well, but he cannot cook - a prince doesn’t exactly have to. If that is something you enjoy, he loves to hang around while you do it and he asks you questions, and offers to help, but he really isn’t too good at it. And regarding settling down, he is quite a youthful and restless spirit, but he is certain he wants to be where you are, no matter where it is. And if you’re willing to accompany him to random journeys and adventures and just be free together, he would be inexplicably happy. 
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) not today :)  hope this helps!
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) I feel like elves would be very proper regarding those things, and he is a prince so it would be kind of expected of him to get married. Before falling for you, he wasn’t extremely keen on the idea, and he would have done it if necessary for the stability of his realm, but you turned his world upside down and he wants nothing more but to be yours forever. Honestly he would like being kind of a trophy husband?? And he is so proud of being with you so he would like to officially crown your love. “Quickly” is a very relative term when it comes to elves… but I feel like he would go for it as soon as you give him a hint that you might want the same. 
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) VERY. Yes, he might be a super skilled warrior in many aspects, but when it comes to you, his touch is as light as a feather, and so are his lips against your skin, and his voice when he whispers words of adoration. I’d say that emotionally he’s really unproblematic, and attuned to his emotions, and he would be very careful with yours. Unless he’s having a really terrible day, then he might accidentally snap at you for nothing, but he regrets it in a millisecond; he’s still pretty young after all, and sometimes a random impulse will take over.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) He likes hugs and they’re one of the surest ways to comfort him if something is bothering him. Legolas basically melts into your embrace. Maybe you’re the one who initiates it a bit more, but you know how dear they are to him and you know they’re something that makes him feel very loved. When he hugs you, he will try to shield you from the outside world as much as possible, which is really sweet. Also, his arms and shoulders are literally perfect so the hugs feel super nice.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Ahh, what is quick for elves?? I feel like he would fall in love gradually, but it would show in his actions and facial expressions, until he slips up during some sweet moment between the two of you. He almost scolds himself for not making it a more special moment, worthy of his favorite person, but you’re relishing in it either way, and the blush on his usually pale cheeks is a very nice bonus! 
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Legolas comes off as pretty confident, and he is, so jealousy isn’t an emotion that often plagues him. However, he is for sure slightly possessive (maybe it’s an elvish thing?), and what is his… is his. Deep down he is passionate, and he is feisty in his particular way, which sometimes comes out in the form of possessiveness too. 
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Gentle and plenty. He likes to kiss you everywhere he can, whenever he can, it’s one of his guilty pleasures. He wakes you up with a bunch of kisses all over your face, in public he often kisses your hand, but in private he might kiss each one of your fingers separately. Don’t even get me started on the neck kisses - he would never stop if he could. His sweet spots, which you discovered by accident but it was plain by the way that he inhaled, are right under his ear, and on the inside of his wrists. It is incredibly intimate, and something that only you will ever know and do.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He is confused, for sure, since he’s not really been around too many children in his long life. Unsure of what to do, he stammers when kids ask him questions because they’re, unsurprisingly, fascinated by him, and he looks to you for guidance. You think it’s kind of charming, he literally seems scared which is an unusual look on him. If you’re good with children, he has a huge admiration for it, and he would definitely be an amazing dad one day.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Legolas is quite high on energy, so I think he’d prefer more active mornings - even better if he can finish early whatever he needs to do for the day, so that later he can be all yours without distractions. But on other occasions he thinks you just look too enticing to be left alone at dawn… he can’t help himself but hang around a little bit more when you look so peaceful, smell so amazing, and have the most kissable soft skin in the world…
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) He loves evenings and nights, especially clear and starry ones, he will never fail to be excited and it’s so cute. Legolas loves to go outside with you at night and stargaze, even though he might spend a solid amount of time gazing at you while you look at the brilliant sky. You have had so many long night walks also, and you have basically lost count. If the weather isn’t ideal, he will sit on the floor in front of you, while you’re on the bed, and have you braid his hair and tell you every single detail of his day (about the parts you weren’t around for), and then you’ll switch and he will braid your hair and listen to you.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) I’d say he is pretty easy to read, even if his facial expressions are subtle, so you can often guess his feelings based on that alone. He wants to sometimes play the part of a handsome, mysterious prince, but all it takes is for you to rake your fingers through his flawless hair for him to confess to anything ever. 
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) By you? Almost never. He will just get really upset if you found yourself alone in a very dangerous situation, and it could have been prevented. Generally he is also patient with others (he’s still royalty and needs to keep his behavior in check), until someone tries to mess with you, in whatever way. Then he doesn’t really care about politeness anymore.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) His memory is impeccable, no matter how much or how little you talk. If you say something, he will listen AND remember. Perhaps, though, he is just a tiny bit spoiled and he will expect you to be like that as well, but secretly. 
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) The first time the two of you went on some little journey alone. Whether it was just a one-day errand to check on something that happened in one area of the forest, or an entire visit to another kingdom, he treasures it so much. He likes to do things like that, and there is nothing better in all of Middle-earth than doing it with the person he loves more than anyone. At the same time it would activate his extra protective mode, but he would also be more free and unrestrained than he usually is, and it tugs on your heartstrings for sure.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Legolas is very protective and very quick to act. In his many years he has seen all kinds of horrors, and he knows how his mother’s death affected both him and his father, and he absolutely refuses to ever let anything bad happen to you, as much as it is in his power. First and foremost he physically protects you, but he is no stranger to speaking up for you if you need verbal defense. He really appreciates it when you sweep in if he’s having a boring conversation with someone and he is looking for a way out - although he’s friendly, he really hates dull conversations which are sometimes a given for a royal. So he’ll be forever grateful if you get him out of it. 
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Legolas firmly believes that you deserve the best of the best, every single day, but he can also get impatient while preparing something special for you, like having a piece of jewelry custom made. However, he still loves spoiling you and making you feel special, but he loves to feel spoiled as well. So both of you occasionally go all out and plan a special outing, or a dinner with the other’s favorite food, or just a little gift that is perfectly suited for the other person. 
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) He can sometimes be a bit impulsive and rash in using his words, and is quick to hit someone with a witty answer, which can end up being unnecessarily rude… but he is really growing out of it. He also gets very easily carried away in talking about something that he is passionate about, but you find it way more endearing than annoying. 
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Quite - have you seen him? But he is convinced he looks best when you help him pick out clothes, and especially when you braid his hair. He is also happy if the two of you match your clothes even in a very subtle way, but it shows your bond in a nice way.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Before falling in love with you, his answer would be no - he had a pretty decent life… however, he always felt a constant desire to keep searching for something, not knowing exactly what it is, but like something was missing from his life.. Lo and behold, when you two got together,  that feeling disappeared.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) He is fascinated by snow and thinks it’s really beautiful, and he doesn’t get to see much of it, so his fascination grows. 
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Someone who doesn’t have appreciation for smaller joys in life! Like, how can you not be absolutely amazed by those trees or these butterflies or that sunset from the other day! There is so much to love and marvel at in this world, and he will take any opportunity to do so, but he wants to share that feeling with his partner.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Doesn’t really need sleep, doesn’t sleep much, but he will let himself go a little bit if you happen to be cuddling him. 
✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings​​​​​​ @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place​​​​​​ @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr​​​​​​ @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese​​​​​​ @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste​​​​​​ @ironmandeficiency     @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar​ @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll​ @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncrat @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth
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thevampywolf · 2 months
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𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥
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☆ Genre: Domestic, school, slice of life, angst, fluff
☆ Warnings: None
☆ Request: No
☆ Characters: Noah + his friends, Angeline, Chan, Y/N, Sky
☆ Word Count: 9.3k
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Noah didn't believe in love at first sight.
He found the notion of it fickle and somewhat unethical … he didn't understand how someone could possibly fall in love based on someone's looks alone.
It was funny, really. All the books and music and movies he had been exposed to since he was a toddler all celebrated the fairy tale like stories of love at first sight. It was everywhere. The idea of love at first sight was such a popular theme amongst humanity that it seemed perhaps true love was only present at first glance. And perhaps that was why people seemed so desperate to experience love the way it was portrayed fictionally - after all, if it was as hyped up as it was, it must be a completely attainable goal.
But maybe it was more than that; maybe it was possible to feel a sudden connection upon first glance, to feel that one knew the other person from somewhere before.
Noah doubted it, however. He had never been one to follow that trail of thought. It seemed bizarre to him that one could develop feelings for a human's outer layer, rather than get to know their inmost qualities first. Perhaps it was to do with his lack of experience in romance … but Noah didn't understand people who fell for looks. After all … what would happen when the looks changed and warped with time? Would the feelings also change and warp? Would they fall out of love?
Noah's favourite love story was his parents’. He had quizzed them about their meeting countless times before, their stories beyond fascinating and much more appealing than the fictional stories floating around him. Perhaps it was because their story was real, and not a work of fiction … but there was an element of rawness and realism to their love story that Noah enjoyed far more than the fictional stories he had heard and read.
Though at times it did seem to Noah like his parents’ was embedded and threaded with a long string of miracles. Each time Noah had been exposed to a new piece of information from his parents, Noah realised the importance of loving someone for their soul, rather than their outward beauty. He knew a pretty face would fade quicker than the speed of light … but the way one's eyes softened when they gazed upon their lover - the way his parents looked at each other - would last forever. It was the hearts and the souls that were connected with one another when the love was real. Not the touch of skin against skin in the spur of a heated moment.
But then again … what if people could fall in love with the lock of gazes, too?
What if everything he had ever thought about love was wrong?
Noah didn't realise how hard he would fall for Angeline.
Nor did he realise just how much it would turn his entire world upside down when he did.
*☆*☆*
“Oi!”
Noah turned around just as Matthew hurtled himself at him in a flurry of aggressive body spray.
"There's a new girl," Matthew hissed, slinging his arm around Noah's neck. "Apparently she's super fucking hot."
Noah frowned. He slapped Matthew on the back of his head and immediately ruffled his friend's feathers. "Don't fucking objectify her. How many times do I have to say that?"
"Sorry, dad," Matthew muttered. The fourteen year old sighed, a wistful smile on his face as he walked with his best friend to their first class of the day. "I wonder if she's in our class?"
"I hope for her sake, she's not," Noah said dryly. He slid his headphones down his neck and wrapped the long cord around his phone. "You're like a vulture."
Matthew frowned. "I just want my first kiss already."
At that, Noah softened slightly. "Well … save your first kiss for someone who you actually love. Don't just kiss someone because everyone else is doing it. You'll probably regret it later.”
“But I wanna know how it feels,” Matthew whined.
Noah wrinkled his nose. “Mushy, I bet. And wet.”
Suddenly Michael appeared behind the two boys. He pushed himself into the middle, crushing the both of them as he slid his own arms around their shoulders. Michael had been working out slowly alongside his father from time to time, and Noah smiled when he felt the slight difference in the shape of his friend's biceps around his neck.
"The old man being an old man again?" Michael inclined his head towards Matthew as he side-eyed Noah. "What are you again … fifty seven? Give or take a few?"
Noah scowled. "I'm just saying."
"Loosen up a little bit, Bang," Michael said, playfully messing the boy's hair up. "You don't need to be so … "
"Uptight?" Ryan offered helpfully, falling into step beside them.
Noah scowled. "I am not uptight. My dad says - "
"Yeah, yeah, your dad is a real gentleman, we know," Matthew groaned, making Noah smile. "He swept your mum off of her feet with his incomparable charms, and now they're living happily ever after in their perfect house with their perfect children - "
"Fuck off," Noah laughed, kicking out at his taller friend. “We aren't perfect.” And then, "Do you think I'm uptight, Lukey?"
Lucas shrugged. His attention was diverted; he was reading a magazine, and Noah furrowed his brows trying to make out the fine print beside the couture fashion models.
He smiled.
"I think you're sensible," Lucas said. "I also think Matty is a whore."
"What the fuck are you reading?" Matthew retorted, snatching the magazine out of his hands. "A fashion magazine?"
Noah tutted. He grabbed the magazine and handed it back to Lucas before tackling the former boy with his hands.
"Stop being such a cunt," Noah grunted, Matthew laughing as he was shoved into the nearest wall. "Let him read his fashion magazines if he wants to. There's nothing wrong with men reading fashion shit."
Matthew giggled. "I'm teasing, Mr Old Man."
The group of boys entered their classroom, playful chattering a steady stream amongst them as they made their way to their seats. Their maths teacher wasn't there yet, and the students that were already in the room had engineered a loud hubbub that echoed off of the walls.
"What's her name, anyway?" Noah asked, dumping his bag onto the floor.
"I don't remember. Ang … Ang something? Angie? That's such an old name," Matthew snorted, slumping over his chair like a sack of potatoes. His uniform was already a mess; his tie was nowhere to be seen, and his P.E shirt was a stark red under his unbuttoned white shirt.
"You're gonna get a DT again," Noah shook his head as he pulled his notebook out from his bag. "How many have you had this week?"
"Five," Lucas offered helpfully in his soft voice. "Not including the ones at lunch."
"Seriously Matty, do you enjoy detentions?" Michael asked as he hooked his football under his arm. "Don't you wanna hang out with us?"
"It's not that I enjoy them," Matthew grumbled. "I'm just not very good at avoiding them."
Noah flipped his book open. "Well, try harder. We can't really practice as a band if a member is always fucking missing."
"Yes, dad," Matthew grinned. "Whatever you say, dad."
Leaning over the back of his chair, Ryan turned his gaze onto Noah's desk. He had produced a slice of toast from somewhere, and he crunched into it as he tried to read Noah's handwriting. "New song?"
"I'm trying," Noah muttered, clutching at his head with his slender fingers. "The words don't sound right. They sound like shit."
"You're being too hard on yourself," Lucas said. "Take a break. Go back to it later."
Slumping back in his seat, Noah groaned. "You're probably right."
The door to the classroom opened again, and the boys looked up. A girl stepped into the room; she looked a little lost. Her eyes briefly scanned the room's layout, though her face remained as blank as a sheet of paper.
"Ow!" Noah suddenly yelped, jerking in his seat; Matthew had just stomped on his foot and simultaneously jabbed him in his ribcage. Exasperated, Noah stared at him; he quickly realised what had caused his friend to react the way he had, and he sighed, a small smile growing on his lips.
"I think that's her," Matthew hissed, nodding towards the girl at the front of the classroom. "Offer her the seat beside you."
Noah tutted. "Why?"
"Because she's looking for a free seat!" Matthew pressed on, shaking his friend's hand arm. "Don't keep the lady waiting."
From beside Matthew, Michael stifled a wheeze.
Noah let out a laborious sigh.
"Hey … are you looking for a free seat?" Noah called out; the girl in question turned to look at him, and something unreadable flashed across her eyes.
She nodded.
"There's a free one there, and there's one here," Noah pointed to the front corner, and then to beside him. "I think someone's drawn a dick on that one though."
The girl peered over the desk; there was indeed an explicit Sharpie drawing on the back of the seat, and the girl's lips twitched.
She walked towards the empty desk beside Noah and quietly pulled the chair out before seating herself.
The five boys blinked at each other.
Noah couldn't remember the last time they had been so quiet.
"What's your name?" Noah turned to the girl, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen on them all. "I'm Noah."
"Angeline," the girl said. "And I don't like boys."
"Oh," Noah said slowly, just as Matthew hid a guffaw. "That's okay. There's lots of gay people - "
"I'm not gay," Angeline interrupted, turning her face to him. "I just don't want to talk to you."
"Oh," Noah said again, blinking slowly. "Okay. Sorry."
He turned away again, his cheeks flooding with heat. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Matthew. Things always went wrong when he took his advice.
"Nice one," Matthew sniggered under his breath.
Noah looked up at him. The glare in his eyes was so intense that Matthew immediately piped down, clearing his throat as he reached for his own notebook.
*☆*☆*
"Hey … Noah, was it?"
Noah turned around; he was alone, his friends all heading towards different lessons for the second period.
Just as well, he thought to himself. He was suddenly in no mood to converse with anyone.
Angeline stood behind him, the same impassive expression glued to her pale face. Noah blinked at her through the curls on his forehead as he slung his backpack further up his shoulder
"Yeah," Noah said.
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," Angeline said quietly. Her voice was soft, almost silent, and Noah had to listen carefully to decipher her words. "I didn't mean it."
Noah shrugged. "No harm done."
She looked uneasy suddenly, and Noah cocked his head to the side.
"Did you need something, or … ?"
Angeline pulled out a sheet of paper. Noah stared at the top of her head with mild curiosity as the girl looked down at the paper. Her hair was a hazelnut brown, and it fell around her shoulders in bouncy waves when she looked up again.
" … Do you know where this is?" Angeline asked him, pointing to the room on her timetable.
Noah leaned in slightly, trying to read the words on the paper. He caught a whiff of something floral and stepped back again, suddenly feeling too close to her.
"That's actually my next lesson," Noah said quietly. "I can take you there, if you want?"
Angeline looked up at him. She looked unsure.
"We don't have to speak, I promise," Noah offered. It caught the girl off guard and she suddenly smiled; Noah was taken aback. He didn't realise how much a single smile could light up a person's entire face.
"Okay," Angeline nodded.
Turning around again, Noah began to walk down the corridor. Every now and then he briefly looked over his shoulder to make sure Angeline was following him, and wasn't getting stuck in the throngs of people. He kept his promise and kept quiet the entire time, and when they approached the English classroom, Angeline seemed considerably less agitated than she had appeared in the beginning.
She took a seat next to him like in the previous classroom. Noah was surprised; for someone who had made it so clear that she hated his sector of humanity, she did have a strange way of showing it.
He bit his lip. He pulled out his notebook again, flipping to the back where he started to scribble across the page in his looping scrawl.
Words flew out of him in a way they hadn't earlier in the morning; he had no idea where they were coming from. All he knew was that he suddenly felt like writing a dozen songs there and then, and he watched as his hand seemed to move of its own accord. The paper was soon filled with words and he turned the page over, continuing to dump his thoughts onto the other side.
He hadn't a clue that Angeline was quietly watching him with curiosity growing in her eyes. He also had no idea when she looked away, not wanting to accidentally read his words and intrude on his privacy.
Almost half of the lesson had passed without a word shared between the two of them. Even when the class was talking amongst themselves as they worked, Noah and Angeline were silent. The silence between them was heavy; not exactly awkward, but uncomfortable nonetheless. It made Noah jittery. A trait inherited from his father, the boy had a habit of making small talk to fill in any potential voids.
"Can I speak?" Noah finally asked, leaning back in his seat. He couldn't keep it in any longer - the intensity of their quietude was making him incredibly restless, his knee almost banging against the table from how hard he was bouncing his leg up and down.
Angeline didn't look at him. But she did smile slightly, her pink lips turning up at the corners. "Okay."
"You won't stab me with that pen, right?" Noah eyed the fountain pen in her hand; it was a deep copper colour, the lid on the end and the nib scratching against the paper as she wrote.
To his surprise, Angeline laughed. It was a soundless laugh, more like a scoff - but it was progress, and Noah's eyes widened slightly.
"No," Angeline said. "That's not my style."
Noah's lips twitched. "What's your style?"
Angeline shrugged. She tapped her pen against her lip as she looked to the screen at the front of the classroom. "Slowly choking someone to death in a flower field?"
Noah wasn't expecting that; his eyes widened further, and for the first time in a while he was completely robbed of his words.
"I'm joking," Angeline was laughing again; her cheeks glowed a rosy colour as she shook her head in amusement, looking down at her paper once more. "Just wanted to see your reaction."
Slowly regaining his thoughts, Noah blinked. His mouth broke into a grin and he slapped a hand over his face. He was alarmed when he realised how hot his skin was against his palm.
"Remind me to never go to a flower field with you," Noah said. And then, "Not that we'd ever even end up in a situation like that. You know … because you hate boys."
Angeline set her pen down. She paused. "I didn't mean that. I mean … I did, but … I was exaggerating. I don't hate all of them."
Noah raised an eyebrow. The girl shook her head, smiling softly.
"I'm not going to confide in you," Angeline said. It made Noah smile again, and he mentally gawped at himself.
What was wrong with him?
"I wasn't offering to listen," Noah retorted; he was smirking when Angeline stole a surprised glance at him, and her face broke into a pretty smile.
Noah bit his lip. "But I mean … if you wanted to talk I would listen."
"Yeah, but I don't want to talk," Angeline continued. "You're the last person I'd go to if I wanted to get something off of my chest."
Laughing under his breath, Noah nodded. "Oh, yeah. Me too. You're the last person I'd listen to."
Noah couldn't help but feel proud when Amgeline started to giggle. He felt he had successfully pulled her out of her cold shell, even if it was a momentary triumph.
He wished it'd last a while. He had a feeling he could get used to the sound of laughter.
"Your friends seem … interesting," Angeline said suddenly. "Do they usually stamp on your feet?"
Noah snorted, suddenly embarrassed. He rubbed a hand over his face. "You saw that?"
"You yelled very loudly," Angeline said.
Noah smiled. She did have a point.
"They're alright," Noah shrugged, spinning his pencil around in his fingers. "Bit annoying sometimes. They're like brothers to me."
"Even the one who stomped on your foot?"
"Especially the one who stomped on my foot," Noah said.
They sank into a mild, quiet atmosphere again. Though this time, it wasn't heavy. Noah's mind was racing. He pulled his notebook towards himself again and blindly scribbled a few more phrases that tumbled out of his brain.
He rubbed the nape of his neck, flitting his gaze to the girl beside him. She wasn't looking at him; her head was turned away, her hands rifling for something in her bag.
"Angeline?" He asked quietly.
She froze. She paused before sitting up again, staring at him.
"Yes?"
"What are you doing at lunch?" Noah asked.
Angeline blinked slowly. For some reason the smile had completely melted off of her face, and the cold blankness had returned in the centre of her eyes.
"Eating food, probably," Angeline stated as she slid her books into her bag again, clearing up her desk.
"Do you want to eat together?" Noah asked.
Squinting at him, Angeline swung her bag over her shoulder. "Why?"
Noah was suddenly very perplexed; he had no idea what had happened in the past two minutes, but he felt stupid. He was so close to getting through to her …
"Well, you're new … " Noah trailed off. "And … well I thought things were going okay, no?"
"We barely spoke," Angeline said. She was holding onto her bag strap peculiarly tightly. "Look … I have to go. Maybe I'll see you around."
Scrambling his books together, Noah shoved them into his bag. He almost stumbled over the legs of his table and chair in his hastiness. "Wait - Ang - "
The classroom door slammed shut, leaving a very confused, slightly hurt Noah, staring dumbfoundedly at the space Angeline had been standing in.
*☆*☆*
It was quiet at their lunch table.
Unusually quiet.
Matthew, Michael, Lucas, and Ryan stared at Noah in silence. Noah was picking off small pieces of the bread that comprised his sandwich, and instead of eating them, he dropped them into the growing pile on top of his sheet of foil. His eyes were slitted as he stared into the distance, a dark shadow seemingly casted over his pale face.
Matthew pursed his lips until he resembled that of a duck. He swallowed down more of his pasta before clearing his throat.
“So … how's that song coming along mate?”
Noah blinked. “Huh?”
“The song you were writing. This morning,” Ryan prompted. “Did you finish it?”
Noah nibbled the edge of a leaf of lettuce. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Cool,” Matthew nodded. It was an awkward gesture, and Ryan's facial expression became one of sympathy as Matthew visibly blanched.
Matthew despised awkward silences. He didn't particularly know how to resolve the current one, however; it was new, something he had never experienced amongst his friends before.
Annoyed suddenly, Michael slapped his hand down onto the table. “Alright. That's it. Noah, what the hell is wrong with you? You're molesting that sandwich as if it's ruined your life.”
Noah dropped the bread. He pushed it away with a scowl.
“I'm fine,” Noah stated.
“And there are pigs flying outside,” Matthew drawled. “I can't believe you … you're already head over heels for the new girl. Love at first sight, aye?”
Noah stared at him, taken aback.
Matthew shrugged. “Only explanation that makes sense.”
“I'm not head over heels for her,” Noah kicked out at him. “She's just … “
“Everything you ever wished for?” Michael offered helpfully.
Noah scowled. He pushed his chair back and stood up, grabbing his bag. “I'm leaving.”
He turned and left before his friends could say anything else; they stared after him with curious eyes, shrugging at each other.
Ryan sighed. He pinched a slice of tomato out of Noah's vacated sandwich and nibbled at the edge of it. “Poor guy has never had a crush before. I don't even want to know how he'll act when he's in actual love.”
*☆*☆*
The next day Noah arrived at school an hour early. He slumped himself onto the beanbag in the corner of his favourite practice room and rested the neck of his guitar against his leg as dropped his head back against the wall.
He hadn't slept a wink.
And he didn't even have a clear idea as to why.
Flipping open the notebook he had stashed in the back of his backpack, Noah landed on the hastily scribbled lines he had come up with yesterday. He peered at them with a frown. His writing was so smudged and so intangible that he could barely make out more than half a sentence; frustrated, Noah dropped the book and groaned loudly just as the door opened.
“Oh, sorry,” Noah looked up as Angeline walked in, her eyes dark in the shadows as she looked around. “Thought I heard a dying whale in here. But it's just you.”
Noah stared at her. He then let out a bark of laughter before dropping his face into his hands.
“Why are you here so early?” Noah asked her.
Angeline blinked. “Why are you here so early?”
“I asked you first.”
“So? I asked you second.”
Noah smiled. He dropped his head against the wall again and let his hands dangle in-between his legs as pulled his knees up to his chest.
“Couldn't sleep,” Noah said. “Came to practise some new stuff I was working on.”
He picked his notebook up and rifled through the pages once more before dropping it into his bag. “I can't read what I wrote though. So … I'm just sitting.”
Angeline inclined her head in acknowledgement. A brief silence passed between them both before Angeline dropped her bag down onto the floor a few feet away from Noah. She sat down beside it much to Noah's surprise, and he was even more surprised when she pulled out a paper bag. It was stained with faint grease spots and Noah watched curiously as Angeline retrieved a single pain au raisin.
“Keep staring at me and I will poke your eyes out,” Angeline commented without looking at him. She removed a raisin from the top of her pastry and deposited it into her mouth before turning her gaze towards him.
Noah looked away. He also smiled, unable to keep the expression off of his face.
Angeline had gotten through a few bites of what Noah suspected was her breakfast before she spoke again. She licked the icing off of her fingertips as Noah sidled his eyes to her again.
“Don't call me by my full name,” Angeline said.
Noah raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“Yesterday,” Angeline elaborated. “You asked me to eat lunch with you. And I … “
“Declined to answer?” Noah prompted.
Angeline shrugged. “It wasn't because I didn't want to eat with you. You called me Angeline. And it caught me off guard.”
Noah casted his mind back to the previous day. He remembered how he had thought he was doing so well, tentatively bonding with the strange girl and her slightly intimidating eyes … but his feeble attempt had shattered when he had called her name for the first time.
He felt a sudden pang of guilt inside of him.
He really had done something to upset her.
“I'm sorry,” Noah said quietly. “But I mean … it's not like you told me not to call you that. You just ran.”
Angeline picked another raisin off of her pastry. “I guess. I'm sorry too.”
Noah stared.
For some reason his brain had already solidified the idea that Angeline was perhaps the sort of girl who wouldn't apologise unless she was very, very wrong about something.
“What do you want me to call you instead?” Noah asked.
Angeline paused. She shrugged, picking off another raisin and nibbling the icing off of it.
Noah smiled at the movement. “How about … Raisin?”
“Raisin?” Angeline echoed. She looked down at her pastry in bewilderment. “Really? You're going to name me after a dehydrated grape?”
“Dehydrated grape … “ Noah repeated under his breath with a crooked grin. “You look like you really like those dehydrated grapes though.”
Lips twitching, Angeline broke off a piece of her pastry. “I love dehydrated grapes.”
“Raisin it is, then,” Noah mused. “Ray for short?”
Angeline turned to look at him. The light brown of her eyes twinkled like copper in the early sunlight escaping from the folds of the blinds, and Noah found himself vaguely devoid of breath as he looked back at her.
“Okay,” Angeline whispered.
“Okay,” Noah nodded. “Ray.”
Angeline smiled slowly. She looked away, then, and dusted off the small flakes of pastry that dotted the collar of her shirt.
Noah reached for his notebook. Flipping to a new page, he scribbled two words in the centre of the paper and circled it aggressively.
Pastry Girl.
*☆*☆*
It had been two weeks since Noah and Angeline's early morning interaction.
Noah hadn't seen Angeline since.
*☆*☆*
“Why do you look like that?” Matthew asked.
Noah raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like … that,” stealing a mirror from the pencil case of the girl beside him, Matthew raised it to Noah's face. The girl kicked out at Matthew and Matthew hastily returned her property just as Noah rubbed his eyes from the glare that had struck him from the ceiling lights reflecting on the mirror.
Before he could reply however the door opened and all the students looked up; Angeline sidled into the classroom with a dark expression clouding her eyes. She dropped into the seat beside Noah without a word and soon the staring had turned into quiet whispers, the students all turning back to their work.
Noah didn't drill his gaze into her the way everyone else had. He wanted to; in fact he was itching to talk to her. But he looked down at his desk instead, pulling a scrap piece of paper towards him before scribbling across the centre of it.
Wordlessly he slid the paper onto Angeline's desk. Noah watched out of the corner of his eye; the girl picked the paper up and scanned the writing briefly.
Wanna get lunch together, Raisin?
Blinking, Angeline tore the note in half, and then in half again. Noah's face turned into one of slow horror as he watched her shred the note into smithereens before blowing them away like sad confetti.
*☆*☆*
Y/N had just set the last piece of fried chicken down onto a large tray when Noah trudged into the front of the house. She turned around with her husband and they both smiled happily as their gaze landed on the fourteen year old.
“Just In time! Fancy some fried chicken?” Y/N asked cheerfully.
Noah forced a smile in his parents’ direction. “No thanks. I'm not hungry. I'm going to my room.”
Without another word, Noah made his way towards the stairs, his bag dragging on the floor as he moved.
Y/N and Chan stared at each other.
“Did he just say no to fried chicken?” Chan broke the silence first. His face was one of puzzled disbelief as he picked up a fried chicken leg. “That was Noey, right? I'm not hallucinating, right?”
Sliding a plate under her husband's chin as he bit into his chicken rather aggressively, Y/N's eyebrows creased. “Did you see his face? Poor boy looked exhausted.”
Chan nodded. “Do you think something happened?”
Y/N pressed her lips into a contemplative thought in response.
“What if it's … a girl?” Chan mused with the rise of an eyebrow. He suddenly grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Can you imagine? Our Noey having girl trouble.”
Y/N couldn't help but giggle. “Do you really think a girl is capable of making him look like … like that?”
“Like death?” Chan offered helpfully.
Grinning at her husband, Y/N picked up a piece of chicken for herself. “I'll go check on him in a bit. He might need a bit of space.”
A few hours had passed since Noah came home. He had spent them all slumped in his room, hunched over his desk. His hair fell in his eyes as he scribbled in his notebook in annoyance; pencil flying, paper crinkling, Noah was breathing hard when he finally sat back and tossed his pencil to the side.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a gentle knock on his door.
“Noey? Baby, can I come in?” Y/N called out softly.
Noah dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed his temples before slumping back in his seat again, plastering a calm expression on his face
“Yeah.”
Noah watched the door open. His mother walked in with a smile on his face and a plate of food resting on one of her hands.
“You must be starving,” Y/N mused as she set it down on his desk. She ruffled her fingers through her son's hair and kissed his forehead. “What are you writing?”
“Just … stupid stuff,” Noah shrugged. “Thanks for the food.”
Y/N nodded. She leaned casually against the wall and folded her arms loosely over her chest as she watched her son poke at his food.
“Noey?”
Noah looked up.
“Are you okay, my love?”
Noah smiled at her. “Yeah. Just … tired.”
“Well,” Y/N smiled wryly at him. “That's what happens when you stay up all night instead of sleeping.”
Chuckling under his breath, Noah picked up a chicken leg and bit into it. “I can't sleep at night.”
“I'm not surprised,” Y/N shook her head. “You're just like your father.”
They fell into a soft silence, Noah beginning to give in and finally properly eating his food. A short while later Chan popped his head into the room and he started to chuckle when he saw them both.
“What are you both doing? Is this some sort of silent meeting I wasn't told about?” Chan asked as he sidled inside.
“I'm eating,” Noah commented.
“And I'm watching,” Y/N explained.
Noah grinned. “Not creepy at all.”
“Well, I'm going to watch you too,” Chan chuckled as he sat down on the edge of his son's bed. “Do you want some more chicken, kiddo?”
“I'm okay,” Noah shook his head. “Hey … I have a question though.”
“For me or your mum?” Chan asked.
Noah shrugged. “Both. What do you do when someone gets mad at you for saying their name but they forgive you and then two weeks later they completely ignore you?”
Y/N and Chan blinked.
“Do you … wanna explain … ?” Chan cocked his head to the side.
Noah leaned back in his seat and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie as he swivelled side to side in his chair. He bit his lip as he blinked at his parents, wondering how to turn his feelings into comprehensible words.
“There's this new girl at school,” Noah began.
Unbeknown to his son, Chan excitedly jabbed Y/N in the small of her back. It was a gesture that spoke of triumph and Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line to prevent herself from bursting into giggles.
“She's … weird,” Noah said.
Y/N furrowed her brows. “Weird how?”
Noah shrugged. “Very quiet. Doesn't speak to anyone. She got mad at me for using her first name the day we met. She didn't come to school for two weeks. And then … today … “
He trailed off and shook his head. “Nevermind.”
“No, go on,” Chan prompted softly. “What happened today?”
Noah looked frustrated. “I thought we had started to become friends. But I passed her a note and she ripped it up, dad. She ripped it up and threw it on the floor.”
Chan stole a knowing glance at his wife as he was suddenly remembered of their earlier years.
Y/N's lips twitched.
“What did the note say, Noey?” Y/N asked.
Noah flushed ever so slightly under his pale skin. He sank into his hoodie and mumbled through the top of the fabric.
“I asked her to eat lunch with me,” Noah said. “Because she doesn't eat with anyone.”
Y/N frowned. “She didn't say anything?”
“Nope.”
Chan folded his arms across his chest, chewing his lower lip in thought. “Maybe she … read it wrong? Maybe she thought it said ‘don't’ eat lunch with me.”
“Dad.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Chan started to chuckle as Y/N slid an amused glance at him. “Maybe she doesn't trust you? I mean … she's new, right?”
Noah's face darkened. “It's nearly been a month.”
“Give her some time,” Y/N said softly. “I think she's … she might have a guard up. And she might not be the best at communicating it.”
“What do you mean?” Noah frowned.
“Well … sometimes people can act like that if they've been hurt in the past,” Y/N explained. “They might ignore the people around them, or act like they don't care. Sometimes they might get triggered by being called certain things or being in certain situations because it reminds them of a bad memory.”
“Or maybe she really hates her name,” Chan chimed in, making both Y/N and Noah laugh. “Or she might hate lunch. Maybe both.”
Noah grinned. He sunk further into his chair and sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “Are all girls this complicated?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Chan and Y/N both looked at each other; they burst into laughter and Noah smiled fondly when his father slid his arms playfully around his mother's waist.
“Guys are complicated too,” Y/N grinned as she patted Chan's arm. “But I think when you truly care about someone, you automatically understand them better. Who knows … maybe you'll end up good friends with this girl. And she might not seem as complicated anymore.”
Noah wrinkled his nose as he began to roll his pencil around his nimble fingers. “I really, really doubt that. She might hate me.”
Chan resisted the urge to grin. “I don't think so. You haven't done anything to make her hate you.”
“I breathed,” Noah scowled.
“That's disgusting,” Sky suddenly bounded into the room, catching her brother's last words. “Why would you breathe on someone?”
The family started to giggle at Sky's contribution to the conversation; the atmosphere around Noah had considerably lightened, and his mouth turned up at the corners as he pushed his perplexities to the back of his mind.
*☆*☆*
Clutching a paper bag in his hands as he vacated a small café on his way to school the next day, Noah inhaled slowly. He tried not to let his mind flood with anxious thoughts. He could smell the scent of the buttery pastry in the bag, and the boy's stomach churned with the emotions swimming in the pit of his stomach.
Once Noah stepped into the school building, he headed towards the empty practice room he usually resided in when he was early. His heart lurched when he pushed open the door and he slowly scanned the room with his gaze as he stepped inside.
Angeline was curled up in the corner of the room on a small beanbag. Her jacket was thrown over her shoulders like a blanket and her head was bent at an awkward angle; her eyes were shut and Noah's facial expression became one of surprise as he realised she was fast asleep.
He bit his lip. Noah wondered if he should wake her up, or if he should leave her to sleep; but upon seeing the dark rings below her eyes when he padded towards her, he decided on the latter. The boy slumped onto the floor beside him and set his bag down, placing his pastry bag next to it before pulling out his notebook.
Noah wasn't entirely sure how long he was sitting there for. Alternating between jotting down words on his paper and texting his friends, he barely noticed when the girl beside him stirred awake and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him next to her.
“How long have you been here?” Angeline whispered.
Noah turned to look at her. There was a deep current of exhaustion running through her eyes and Noah felt a pang of sympathy thud through him.
He didn't respond to her question. Instead he moved his arm to the side and retrieved the paper bag before holding out to her.
Angeline blinked down at it suspiciously.
Noah started to laugh under his breath. “Just take it.”
Tentative, Angeline reached for the bag. She peered inside of it and her eyes widened in horror when she felt a sting at the back of them; before she knew what was happening, the girl had burst into silent tears and Noah froze at the sight of her.
“A - are you … okay?” Noah hummed nervously. “Did I do something wrong again?”
At that, Angeline let out a stunned bark of laughter. She curled her legs up to her chest and dropped her forehead against the tops of her knees in defeat.
Noah swallowed thickly. He usually prided himself on being relatively good at comforting people; but for some reason he had no idea what to say or do to ease Angeline.
He didn't want to push her even further away.
“I'm sorry,” Angeline mumbled against the curves of her knees. “I'm sorry, Noah.”
Noah felt his ears grow warm.
The only other time Angeline had used his name was when they first met.
It was incredibly startling.
“Why are you sorry?” Noah asked quietly.
Angeline sat up again. She leaned her head against the wall as a tear rolled down her pink cheek. She looked drained, and Noah fought against everything inside of him to make sure he didn't throw his arms around her in a hug.
“I'm a shitty person,” Angeline breathed. “And … you're not. You're kind. And it makes me angry.”
Noah examined her face carefully. “You're not a shitty person.”
Turning her large brown eyes on him, Angeline's face crumpled. “You don't know me.”
Dropping his head, Noah rubbed the nape of his neck. He picked his phone up from beside him and unlocked it before tapping on the screen.
He held it out to Angeline. “Can I have your number?”
Angeline's eyebrows shot up into her fringe. “What?”
“I … “ Noah smiled awkwardly. “You're right. I don't know you. But … I'd like to. I'd really, really like to.”
Angeline's eyes glistened as they pooled with unshed tears. “Why?”
Noah shrugged. “I don't know. My gut is just telling me it's the right thing.”
Looking down at Noah's phone, Angeline bit her lip. She took it from him and carefully input her number before handing it back to him.
Noah smiled inwardly with a burst of joy. He sent the girl beside him a small message, and his heart flipped with satisfaction when he heard her phone buzz beside her.
She hadn't given him a false number.
It was a start.
“Did you put poison in the pastry?” Angeline asked a short while later. When Noah looked over at her, he was surprised to see her smiling back at him.
He couldn't help but chuckle. “No.”
“Can I eat it?” Angeline questioned him.
“It's yours,” Noah grinned. “I bought it for you. Eat it whenever you want to. Raisin.”
Angeline's smile deepened. She reached into the paper bag and pulled out the pain au raisin and after briefly examining it, she carefully tore it in half.
She held out one half of it to Noah.
A lump in his throat, Noah couldn't keep the flush off of his face as he accepted the pastry, and the two of them sank into a comfortable silence as they finished their halves.
*☆*☆*
"Stop - stop," Noah groaned in agitation as he yanked at his leather jacket. It was caught underneath two of his band members who had decided to fight each other; Matthew landed heavily on the leather, the material squeaking under him. "You cunt … I just finished painting this … if it's smudged I'm going to eat your left kneecap for brekkie tomorrow."
Matthew howled with laughter as Noah glared at him. "Why my kneecap? Do you enjoy bones or something, you fucking dog?"
Noah shook out his jacket with a mild frown as Matthew and Lucas high fived each other, clearly amused at the question. Noah couldn't help but grin too after a moment, and his right cheek dimpled considerably as he sighed at the pair of them. "You're a menace."
It was the night of their school's winter show, and Noah and his friends were getting ready in one of their school's music rooms. They were going to perform a number of songs - and for the first time, they planned on introducing a few of their original songs.
Noah was slightly terrified. It wasn't the fact that half the school would be watching him that scared him; it was the fact that all their parents would be there too. Noah adored his parents; they were closer than most families, and for that exact reason, Noah felt slightly jittery when he thought about their possible reaction when they heard his songs for the first time.
He sincerely hoped no one would catch on to the true meaning of the lyrics he had written.
Lucas cocked his head to the side just then, and he surveyed the dressing room with curious eyes. Ryan was sitting on a small stool in the corner, playful music from his favourite game escaping his phone. His brow was creased as he jabbed at the screen with his thumbs, and he groaned under his breath a moment later as he sagged further into the seat
"Where's Wazowski?" Lucas asked, looking for their friend Michael. "He's late. He's never late."
"Maybe he forgot," Ryan said. He looked up mildly. "That'd be pretty shit."
"Nah, he can't have forgotten," Matthew interjected as he flung his arm around the back of the sofa. "He'll be here. Just wait. I give him … three … two … one … "
As if on cue, the door to the small music room swung open and Michael walked through the door. The four friends cheered at the sight of him, and Matthew grinned widely before hurtling himself at Michael.
"Wazowski! Thought you weren't coming mate," Matthew said.
"There are girls," Michael breathed heavily in response. His eyes seemed to stick out of his skull as he leaned against the nearest wall, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Everywhere. They're screaming."
Noah folded his arms across his chest. "What do you mean?"
“They're all lined up waiting to go into the hall. They're waiting for us,” Michael elaborated. “I think I even saw someone wearing a t-shirt with Noey’s face on it.”
Noah bit his lip. He didn't particularly care about who was waiting for them; there was only one girl on his mind, and there was no way she'd be there.
They hadn't spoken in almost a year.
After three years of a very rocky, very tumultuous friendship, Angeline had disappeared again. Noah was used to her disappearances. Expected them, even. But the usual few weeks had soon turned into months, and with no message from her and dead calls from his end, Noah had begun to slowly accept that he would never see her again.
The thought was like a rose thorn pricking his skin before burying itself into his body.
From the side, Matthew watched his best friend carefully. He knew Noah like the back of his hand; he instantly noticed the flicker of hope in Noah's eyes upon hearing Michael's words.
Matthew sighed sadly under his breath. The day he saw Angeline again, he would be sure to give her a piece of his mind for hurting one of the kindest people he knew.
“My face?” Noah asked. “How did she even get a picture of my face?”
“You have fans,” Lucas laughed from the other side of the room. “I don't blame them.”
Noah shook his head.
"Had to pick up some new drumsticks on the way," Michael was explaining why he had been late, and he pulled out two sticks from behind his ears, making the boys snort. "Accidentally sat on them."
"Fuck me, how heavy is your ass?" Ryan asked from the corner of the room. "How'd you manage that?"
"Phone was in my back pocket," Mike shrugged. He waved his hands around, the drumsticks almost poking Matthew in his eyeballs. "Forget it. Noey, mate you look weird."
Noah scowled; his hair wasn't styled properly yet and he was in a vague state of undress. He found his belt hanging around Matthews neck like a makeshift necklace, and he slapped the back of his friend's thigh with it in annoyance before hooking it through the waistband of his leather trousers.
"You look weird," Noah muttered as he slid his arms into his jacket. He was satisfied that the paint hadn't cracked along the grain of the leather, and he turned to his side, peering over his shoulder to admire his handiwork. A tangle of red roses, looping song lyrics and clusters of stars hugged the majority of his back like an intricate storyline, and Noah grinned at the sight of it. It looked much cooler than he had thought it would, and he adjusted the lapels of his jacket before running his fingers through his unruly curls.
"That's insane," Michael whistled through his teeth as he observed Noah's artwork. He narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward. “Are those … lyrics? Our lyrics?”
Noah grinned. “Like ‘em?”
Michael was about to respond when the door to the practice room flew open.
“You guys ready? We're starting soon,” one of the members of staff who was in charge of the event popped her head into the room with a smile. “Oh, I love that jacket. Very suave.”
“Suave,” Noah repeated with a laugh. “Thanks.”
“So suave,” Matthew mocked his friend once the woman had left. He lopped his arms around Noah's shoulders and pretended to kiss him, Noah immediately pulling back and kicking him in the shin.
“Give over you idiot,” Noah grumbled. “Are you even ready? You look like a mop.”
Matthew grinned. He tossed his head back and peered at his friends through his narrowed eyes. “I enjoy looking like a mop. I want to be a mop when I grow up.”
Michael shook his head as he tuned into the conversation. “You're always talking and yet you never say anything useful, you know that right?”
“You sound like my mum,” Matthew stuck his tongue out at Michael. The group had begun to vacate the room and they walked down the corridor towards the doors that led into their main hall's side entrance. “That's all she ever says to me. She says I'll never find love because no one is gonna want to put up with my bullshit. Direct quote.”
Noah firmly patted Matthew's shoulder before using his fingers to shake out his curls. “Don't worry mate. I'm sure there's someone out there who would die for your bullshit.”
“I wouldn't be so sure … “ Ryan grimaced from behind the group, making his friends laugh.
Approaching the hall, Noah's stomach started to lurch. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering, and he inhaled under his breath, trying to clear the vivid images from his brain.
“You okay?” Matthew murmured a moment later. He leaned closer to Noah and gently touched his arm. “Not gonna pass out on stage, right?”
Noah smiled. “I'm fine. Just … thinking?”
“About Angeline?”
Turning to look at the blonde boy, Noah swallowed thickly. “No.”
“It's fine if you are,” Matthew shrugged. “I get it.”
“It's not fine,” Noah grumbled. “It's almost been a year. I should have forgotten her by now.”
Sighing, Matthew grabbed Noah's shoulders and stared at him intently. “Look, we're almost due to go on so I can't say as much as I wanna say. But mate, no one can forget someone that quickly. You love her. You're not gonna forget her like that … and honestly, I don't think you should forget her.”
Noah looked down at his boots. “I don't love her.”
“Stop lying to yourself,” Matthew tutted. “The more you deny your feelings the harder you're making it for yourself. Just accept it, bro.”
There was no time for Noah to respond for they were soon ushered onto the stage; it was loud in the room, and uncharacteristically dark for the main space in the building. The large lights had been dimmed and instead someone had strung up rows of LED lights that flashed hues of violet and fuschia at the five boys. Tiny piccolo lights dotted the room, and Noah had to squint considerably before his eyes slowly adjusted to the dramatic change in lightning.
“Hi,” Noah waved his fingers and flashed the substantially sized crowd one of his contagious grins. “We're The Cyber Lads.”
The crowd cheered; once the noise had begun to subside, a voice called out to him.
“Hi! I'm your dad!”
The crowd burst into laughter. Noah couldn't help but burst into quiet laughter as he saw his father grinning up at him, clearly proud of his statement. From beside him, Y/N was shaking her head as she laughed and Sky's face was one of pure second hand embarrassment as she did her best to sink into the crowd.
“Hi dad,” Noah snorted with laughter. “Everyone, say hi to my dad who is clearly feeling very bold tonight. And to my sister, who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here.”
Chan waved his hands around in alarm as his face turned into one of embarrassment just as the crowd chorused a loud greeting to him. Sky meanwhile had the expression of murder upon her face, and her eyes drilled lasers into her brother's face as he smiled innocently at her.
“Anway, I'm Noah,” Noah said, grabbing the crowd's attention again. A loud cheer echoed in the hall again and Noah's face flushed pink as he turned his head to his side, grinning at his friends. “And these guys … well I'll let them introduce themselves. I'm kind like that.”
The room filled with laughter again, and Noah's friends took turns to introduce themselves. As they were doing so, Noah looked out to the crowd. He looked around casually, a twinkle in his eye; but his gaze soon landed on a figure near the back, and as Noah slowly made out familiar features in the shadows, the eighteen year old felt his heart drop, and his body freeze.
Angeline stared back at him with her round eyes. She looked much the same, but different; her hair was longer, her face sharper. There was a soft smile on her lips, and it grew as she folded her arms across her chest, the sleeves of her floral dress moving like water in the shade.
To Noah, it felt like the entire world had stopped. It was just Noah and Angeline staring at each other, the loud chatter around them completely silenced. Noah's fingers tightened on his microphone stand as his breathing became shallow, and he was completely unaware of his bandmates trying to get his attention as he continued to stare off into the distance.
Chan frowned. He looked to his wife who appeared just as worried as he was; she followed Noah's gaze and together Chan and Y/N managed to spot Angeline at the back of the crowd.
“Is he okay?” Chan murmured to his wife.
“He looks like he just saw a ghost,” Sky prompted helpfully. “Didn't his girlfriend like … disappear?’
Chan's eyes widened. “Girlfriend?”
“They're not actually together,” Y/N hurried to say before Chan's eyes fell out of his skull. “Don't worry, you didn't miss anything.”
“Nearly cried,” Chan started to chuckle. He looked towards his son again, his face softening as he registered Noah's facial expression. “Poor kid. He looks … “
“Traumatised,” Sky said.
“Oi!” Michael hissed from his seat at the drums from behind Noah. “Snap out of it!”
Noah jumped. No longer distracted, he realised the crowd was staring at him with curiosity, and his family were wearing expressions of pure worry as they watched him.
He cleared his throat, rifling a trembling hand through his hair.
“Sorry,” Noah said. He grinned widely, his eyes crinkling and glowing amber under the stage lights. “I got distracted. You all probably know what it's like to zone out in the middle of nowhere, right?”
His light question immediately transformed the audience's mood and a chorus of agreement rippled through the room; Chan couldn't help but smile at his swift recovery, and he turned to Y/N to comment on how proud he was of their son.
The band flew through the majority of their songs without any problems, and with Noah forcefully pushing Angeline to the back of his mind, they managed to capture the crowd's interest almost immediately. Noah couldn't keep the smile off of his face as they clapped energetically after the second to last song, and he leaned into his microphone again, waiting for everyone to fall silent.
“I … “ Noah wrapped his hands around his microphone as he looked out onto the crowd. He had been so sure of what he was going to say for the last song; but now that Angeline was watching him, he felt like anything that he could say wouldn't be enough. He looked directly at her, hoping for some sort of answer in her eyes.
But she stared back at him, her face as impassive as ever.
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He looked down at his shoes and paused for a moment before speaking again.
“I want to dedicate this last song to someone,” Noah said. His grin was crooked as he looked towards Angeline again, every one of his words aimed at her and her alone. “I've known this person for a while. They're … complicated. I think they hate me.”
The crowd started to laugh, and Noah smiled back; he was relieved, in a way. They didn't seem to understand what he was actually saying, and Noaj wondered if perhaps it was better that way.
“I guess we're all complicated, in our own way,” Noah continued. “I guess this song is a reminder that just because you feel like the whole world is crashing down on you, it doesn't mean you're alone. You're never alone.”
Noah was speaking directly to Angeline, though the crowd didn't know that. They listened to him with interest as he continued to watch Angeline.
Her impassive face had dissolved. Her lower lip was caught in-between her teeth, and she hugged her arms to herself, her eyes starting to blur.
“The song is called ‘Pastry Girl’,” Noah said with a smile as he adjusted the guitar in his arms. “I hope you like it.”
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noomon · 7 months
Text
ding!
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. . . nagi seishirou. effort, effort. put in the effort!
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in all honesty, there weren’t many things that seishirou would put in the effort for.
he thinks it’s a bother—a chore. he’d rather laze around in the comfort of his quiet apartment, surrounding himself with the things he likes, his games that he’s spent countless vacant hours on, his comfortable bed, sometimes accompanying reo to football practice after his usual routine, and even talking to his choki, his cactus, when he gets home from a “tiring” day.
then, you came along and turned seishirou’s way upside down in the best way possible.
“you’re going to burn holes in that duckie if you keep glaring at it like that, sei,” you told him with a slight laugh.
“hm?” he doesn’t look at you; he’s too immersed in trying to fish a rubber duckie through the continuous flow of water on the festival booth.
“cute.”
“mm,” he hums, and you let your boyfriend take his time with what he’s doing. he’s holding the little fishing rod with one hand as the line with the magnet swishes idly, his eyes carefully observing the passing ducks in front of him.
“what are you trying to win anyway? what’s gotten you so hooked? no pun intended.” you smiled.
“the winning plushie reminds me of us, so ‘m trying to win it for you.”
“oh?”
oh.
you certainly weren’t expecting that. you were sure that you just got dragged by him toward this booth to try out his luck with the rubber ducks because he’s been immersed in this game where he had to take care of a duck to win.
but seishirou’s answer made your heart flutter in response.
you didn’t have much time to think as something unexpectedly collided with your forehead, causing you to step back with a slight yelp.
“ow– what the-?”
“i won,” he says, the plushie landing on your hands. “did you see?” he asks, his eyes holding a glimmer of anticipation and excitement, like a child elated to know that he got his favorite toy for his birthday.
“ah– yes, i did, sei,” you answer with a sheepish tone. “it’s so cute,” you said in awe, taking in the details of the plushie. it was two bears hugging each other as one was close to falling asleep while the other had a big smile on its face. “thank you! i’ll be sure to treasure it always.”
seishirou nods, linking his arm with yours. “should we visit the other booths? tell me if you see something you’d like, i’ll do my best to get it for you.”
“eh? you’re still not tired? i mean . . . we’ve been at this festival for an hour or two now.”
he shook his head. “you said there was still the fireworks show you wanted to see, right? i want to see it with you, too.”
you happily nod, holding the plushie close to your chest. “alright. let’s wander around ‘til the fireworks show starts, sei.”
and if you were to look closely at your usually stoic boyfriend’s face, a small, contented smile could be seen, the tips of his ears slightly red at how bold he was being. usually, you were the one to initiate these things, but tonight and the following days, he tells himself that he’ll put in more effort as well.
“put in the effort!” his imaginary small self said in his head.
and so he did, and he’ll continue to do so.
just for you.
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note. @riabriyn, for you!
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