#why make things harder for yourself when you know there is a solution but you refuse to do it bc you think it should be done the other way

[ms-demeanor]

You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?

This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.

Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.

I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.

I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?

I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."

For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.

(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )

But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.

There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?

Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.

If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.

(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)

Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.

For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:

That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)

Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.

Talk about this shit

Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.

Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."

Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.

Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.

Reduce friction for cleaning

Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:

Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.

Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)

Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).

This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:

Create Dump Zones

One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.

We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.

HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.

A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.

Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."

I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.

AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:

Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)

Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.

Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.

To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.

Landing Zones

Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.

To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.

I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.

Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.

Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.

Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).

People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.

If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.

It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.

It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?

IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?

anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.

[generalslime]

Instead of buying the edgeworth shirt I was so responsible and bought a laundry basket and dish rack and new phone case please clap

#my dish rack is so horrible it was the cheapest thing I could find when o first moved here and was supremely broke like 2 years ago #and I’m getting a new laundry basket bc my clean laundry ends up staying in my current laundry basket for weeks until I finally make myself #deal with it and then my dirty clothes are just everywhere #and I saw some post that was like #why make things harder for yourself when you know there is a solution but you refuse to do it bc you think it should be done the other way #and honestly they are right I will just get another fucking laundry basket and stop fighting with myself #and my phone case is absolutely falling apart it’s honestly really bad #and I need this thing to last another 2 years at least (I am hoping it’s been kind of struggling lately)

[aweina]

౨ৎ. MANSPREAD ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. dry humping / heavy petting. begging. no reader orgasm ( boo ! ! ). cocky to submissive mikey + 1.8k words.

mike cannot seem to keep his legs closed. literally. sitting next to him was a total hassle. his legs covering every perimeter of leg space he could reach — leaving your knees buckled together and tucked in whatever corner you’re forced into.

you’ve mentioned his bad habit before, in which he mumbles an indolent “sorry” and then the next day, continues to do the same thing he’s half heartedly apologized for. at this point, you’re not sure he was doing it to press your buttons or his permanent restlessness has caught up with his memory.

then playful slaps on the knee became another idea. a quick sting to his skin kept his reactions stunned, buckling his knees together from your sharp touches. each slap garnered a short cry and a sudden flinch like some invisible string tied his legs together.

it worked, but only for a few days.

now mike catches your wrist halfway from making contact on his knees, gently tugging you down in the corner of the linen couch with a delighted chuckle. either that or he tosses you a knowing glance when you come by the couch, a raised brow and his hands protecting the caps of his knees — glancing his soft hazel eyes towards the tiny empty space beside him.

what a total ass.

all your solutions to stop his leg spreading habit seemed to do nothing for mike. instead, it made him even more repulsive — the spatial width between his legs could nearly reach the arms of the couch, leaving your poor body folded to regain any left over space. then his arms spread along the plush pillows — his rough hand would ever so often teasingly tug at your ears or play with the loose strands of your hair, pulling the ends while playfully twirling it in his finger.

in the corner of your eye, you swore there was a smug smile etched onto his face.

yeah, he’s totally doing this on purpose.

you thought a bit harder after that day. re-enacting different scenarios in your head without it resulting in some unneeded argument — nearly burning abby’s lunch in the process. but like a flash of light, it suddenly hit you. if mike was going to rob you of personal space, why can’t you do so to him?

“um … are you okay?” abby glances up at your blank eyes in concern, the chicken that was supposed to be golden brown violently sizzled from the bubbling oil, grimly layered under a blanket of black charcoal.

“o – oh, yes i’m fine abs.” you assured the smaller schmidt, transferring the hot pan away from the scorching stove — your inner victory delayed by your own clumsiness.

to salvage her burnt meal, you both shared a box of fresh delivered pizza for lunch.

but now it was that time.

it’s nighttime, mike was comfortably splayed on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. as it always was, his legs covered every crevice of the couch — body propped completely in between the plush cushions. the gray baggy sweatpants he changed into clung to his frame well — heavily ruffled on the parts you would love to get an eyeful of. his shirt was slightly damp from a warm shower, the gentle curl patterns in his brown hair glistened under the colorful glow of the television.

mike catches your lingering gaze, a pleased smile on his face.

“you’re not going to sit down?” he slurred a quip, patting down on the other end of the couch — seized by his thick thighs.

he refrains from teasing you for your blatant staring, but instead, for your multiple failed attempts to get him to stop his obnoxious leg spreading.

“oh yeah i will.” you mocked his sluggish tone, going to get yourself a cold drink before you make your way over to the couch.

blocking his view from the blaring screen, you purposely bent down in slow motion — distracting him from his vacuous browsing to simply put your drink down. mike quirks a brow at your little act, but still makes no effort to scoot over, barely moving a muscle.

then your body began to engulf his vision, fluorescent light spilling in the sides of your shadow. confusion knitted into his brows until suddenly, the air in his lungs were punched out from an added weight. the heavy crash of your body made mike rasp a curse, making him pathetically adjust himself after being nearly sunken in the folds of the aged couch — one hand clawing at the cushions for some stability.

“r – really? on my lap?” mike managed to breath out, holding your waist steadily with his free hand — your body felt so good flushed against his.

the innocent attempt to adjust himself ended up with him grinding on your ass, eliciting a low groan from his lips.

gosh, he’s too loud.

you hurriedly fish out the remote from his weak grasp, changing the channel to something that could hopefully muffle the pathetic noises that spill from mike’s mouth. abby’s room was still nearby the living room, the lights off and the door completely shut.

“well … you never give me room on the couch, so i think this is fair.” you explained leisurely, tossing the remote to the side as you grappled onto his spread knees, lifting off some weight to rub slow, shallow circles over his clothed cock.

mike fought back a needy whimper, biting his lip until fleshy pink turned paper white. the cooling sensation of his damp hair did nothing from how much his body was burning up. both his hands cling desperately onto the handles of your waist — kneading and lightly grazing his nails in your soft skin.

a throbbing warmth brushed against your clothed clit, mercilessly constricted by the confines of his sweatpants. you fought back a whine yourself, desperately tugging at the gray fabric with sealed lips. every steady brush of your soft flesh made mike see stars, the urge to lift his hips and grind harder into the curve of ass sat heavy in his lust hazed mind. yet his obedience seemed to glimmer brighter than his deviant instincts.

“ha ha- harder – ngh – please go harder.”

he sounded so sweet, so needy. you couldn’t deny him when the pool of his sticky precum oozes through the gray fabric — gossamer strings that weaved your dripping arousal with his own.

“s – stay still then.” you whispered, now fully pressing your weight against his hard cock — your back against his panting chest.

mike does what you ask, gluing his hips down to the cushions.

his heartbeat was racing against time, pumping all the hot blood that rushed down to his cock. his warm breath fanned the back of your neck, sending electric waves down your spine. his touches were sweaty, latching and kneading anything that pertained to softness. the open mouthed kisses he planted on your bare neck blossomed into purple hues, the drag of his teeth and muted whimpers coercing you to absolutely destroy him.

your hips rocked faster on his cock, the throbbing imprint tucked between the curve of your ass. his grip felt extra tight on your hips, reddish crescent marks decorating your flushed skin. mike throws his head back on the couch, his usual deep groans replaced with airy sighs. he closes his eyes, the same stars dancing in his eyelids — your heady scent making it harder for him not to hold you down himself and hump his cock against your pussy.

he’s so close, he can feel it.

“might cum – ah fuck.” mike warns with a high-pitched whine, the blasting audio from the television really doing him a favor.

you can tell too. his cock hasn’t stopped throbbing ever since he’s accidentally grind against you. his seeping precum never seemed to stop, only staining against the seat of the couch. he was like a horny teenager, so desperate to get off and trying so hard to compose himself. not like the asshole who was taking up all the space on the couch.

this was a great plan after all.

with one hard press against his cock, a spill of scorching heat nestled into your clothed pussy — eating through his soiled fabric and coating your covered folds. with no restraint whatsoever, mike’s deep groan vibrated the dimly lit living room, mindlessly bucking his hips lazily over your cunt like he could possibly pump some cum along your walls. the stars that whirled under his lids dispersed into a warm, satisfied feeling all over his usual restless body.

the very last minute, your hands flailed over his panting mouth — looking over to the direction of abby’s room. he seems to realize how loud he was, eyes widening as he hastily grabs onto the discarded remote, amplifying the volume to a considerate tone. not too loud to wake her up but definitely loud enough to cover the after effects of your intense heavy petting.

the light in her room remains untouched, her delicate footsteps nonexistent. she’s still asleep, thank goodness.

still both hazy from your lustful highs, mike drops the remote and snuggles into the crook of your neck — taking in your addicting scent while admiring the love marks he gave you. his cock softened under the soiled fabric, the sticky feeling making him furrow his brows. but then he realizes one thing, the sudden flinch of his body made you alarmed.

“i – i’m sorry. you didn’t get to cum.” mike sheepishly apologizes, fiddling with the waistband of your soiled shorts.

you shook your head with a relieved sigh, leaning back to gently kiss his stubble jawline — combing your fingers through his soft curls, dried on the top but the ends damp with sweat.

“i’m fine, baby, but you can make it up with one thing.” you mumbled in the base of his ear, a playful smile on your face.

in the corner of his eye, he can see the curl of your lips — the sight earning an eye roll.

“i already know what you’re going to say, but let’s hear it.” mike’s voice was baritone next to your flushed face, completely contrasting his previous whines and whimpers.

“give me all the space on the couch for now on.” you laugh when mike groans, still pulling your body closer to his despite this new ordeal.

“okay fine.” he defeatedly mumbles into your shoulder, his rough hands tracing over your bruised hips to your neglected chest — reaching under to knead your soft skin for his own enjoyment.

the moments of comforting silence were therapeutic, not even the continuous dialogue and sound effects from the bulky screen could ruin its peace. there was something still ticking mike off, he didn’t want to ruin this sweet moment but he couldn’t help it.

“are you sure my lap isn’t good enough?” he pleaded, a glint of hope in his hazy eyes — the couch being his only source of possession where he could splay himself comfortably.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in the back of your head.

“no.”

it was an attempt.

he huffs in defeat, now kneading at your chest for some comfort.

“okay.”

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson

[audisive]

♪ SAD GIRL. pretty when you cry alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: another bad day calls for another solution. simon knows best, after all.

tags: smut, mentions of crying, comfort, self-indulgent, dumbification ??, dirty talk, a sprinkle of breeding, unedited filth

      You're not entirely sure how you got here.

You know why; you'd been stressing your precious head off for the whole week. These past few days seem to be worse than the past ones that had you crying your eyes out in Simon's arms. University has taken its toll on you, and your work is anything but helpful. You don't even have time to cry now! At some point, you barely even had time to spend with your beloved boyfriend, so he took matters into his own capable hands.

Still, you don't know how. You try to remember, but it's hard to think when Simon's even harder dick is stretching out your – in his words – pretty little cunt once more. It's no use trying to work your brain, he claims, not when your shoulders are slumped, your head is leaning on him, and he's rubbing his thick cock against the walls of your pussy just right.

Really, you tried to deal with your stress in a more appropriate way, but you knew it was futile. You admitted defeat when you felt his hands slip from your waist to your hips, when his lips found your neck, when his cold fingers played with your clit and when he'd eased you down on his cock with praises and whispers.

It's just not your fault that he knows the right buttons to push, and he seems to love turning your brain off. What's going on in that brain 'f yours, lovie? C'mon, 'nough of that. Leave it all t'me. If he had it his way, he'd have you drop out of that awful university you always complain about. Please let him provide for you.

"Y'don' even have t' do anything, baby," he grunts in your ear lowly, hot breath hitting your skin. So you don't. You pant against him like a pathetic thing, but you're so far gone in the pleasure that you just can't bring yourself to be a little shy about your state of mind, or rather, the lack of it.

"Such a good fuckin'–" he moans out loud when you clench around him a little too hard without warning, "girl. That's m'girl, tha's it."

You moan his name back, the only thing you can think of. Whining when his thrusts become rougher and harder, he coos, "I know, I know. Almost there, baby, I got'cha."

His pants aren't even all the way down. Shameless bastard! He opted to slide them down his muscular thighs to let the noticeable bulge slip out of its enclosure. His hands have long since shoved themselves under your clothes, not bothering to take them off either. It makes you feel icky, desperate, and utterly pathetic, but the way his cold skin freezes the surface of your bare hips while he moves you up and down on his leaky cock is enough to take your mind off of it.

You're a bit too loud for your own liking, and Simon's dirty talk isn't helping. He laces the lewd sounds of your bedroom with his own groans and grunts that your neighbors are sure to hear and complain about. And when he finds that spot of yours, he pounds you into the mattress like your lives depend on it. You'll just have to ignore the weird looks and glares they give you when you step out of your house.

Oh, but what can you do? You're at his mercy; all you can bring yourself to do is whine and moan for him, but don't worry, he'll take it as a reward for taking such good care of his pretty baby. He's hell-bent on finding ways to comfort you. If he can't fix you with sweet pecks and warm cuddles, he'll fix you up real good with sloppy kisses and his leaky cock. :3 

You'll be a good girl and not complain when he cums in you, right?

    divider by @cafekitsune !

#౨ৎ simon ! #୨୧ audi's works ! #my asks are open pls talk to me #i should really make a masterlist now #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod x you #smut #cod smut #simon riley smut

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Activation Energy and Executive Dysfunction

A bunch of people (with executive dysfunction I assume) reacted a little disheartened to how I described the phenomenon.

The gist is that I used activation energy, a concept from chemistry, as a model for how executive dysfunction can keep you from doing things. Activation energy is the minimal energy that has to be available for any chemical reaction to occur and that amount is specific to every reaction.

Executive Dysfunction to me means, that this activation energy is always high, even for tasks other people experience as spontaneous reaction (yes the amount of ae and spontaneity of a reaction are not connected necessarily but bear with me here). A good example is showering or feeding yourself or sometimes getting up from the couch.

The tricky thing here is that the energy put into trying to reach activation energy is still *expended*, so while it might seem like nothing happens, you still get drained, making it harder to reach activation energy levels.

So what can we do?

In synthesis, if your activation energy is too high you basically can do two things: you either add a catalyst, or you find a different way to get to your result altogether.

The latter can be choosing a simpler recipe to feed yourself, graze on random items without making a meal until you are full or ordering food for example.

This is not always possible, but it *is* worth thinking about. An example from my life would be that I open my mail outside at the trash bins and immediately discard what I don't need because otherwise, I have paperstuff flying around my appartment that I don't get rid of.

"Weird" is not something that should factor in here. Make it functional and helpful.

The catalyst is my favourite solution however, and I can give you some tips here that you can *immediately* use. I won't know if they work for you, but they do for me (sometimes! be kind to yourself).

CATALYSTS AGAINST EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION

Have your tasks broken down: when you have energy, make sure that the thing on your to do list is something you can *actually* physically immediately do. Don't write "make reservation", but "call restaurant" along with the number. Not "clean kitchen" but "move dishes to sink" etc

Doorway Effect: The Doorway effect describes that silly thing that, when we cross a boundary, we sometimes feel like we've been soft reset ("what was I going to do?"). A hypothesis for why this happens can be that it helps our brain create separate contexts which then aids memory creation. What it can do for you is that it is an easy way to change context, which then frees you up to start something new more easily. Try it! Physically go through a doorway or open a different window on the computer, sometimes that is enough.

Costuming: Similar to the Doorway Effect, we are changing context in a low effort way here. Concentrate on putting on your shoes instead of taking out the trash or put on some rubber gloves if you plan on cleaning. Might be enough. Sometimes putting on mascara is enough for me to go "oh I am out of couch potato mode now"

Move! Put yourself where you need to be to tackle your task. That can already help.

Pressure: This can be done by setting a timer that will go off soon. Challenge yourself to get up and go before it rings - might stress you into inaction sometimes, but it can be helpful. I love visual timers for this as it helps with my time blindness

Prepare! If you are in a state of flow and have energy to spare *use it*. This includes breaking down your task as already described but also preparing your space - this can be a cleaned up desk or a caddy with cleaning supplies in a prominent spot.

And my absolute favorite: Throw a dice. When it is really bad, one thing I can always do is throw a dice (via an app, typing "d20" into the search bar or physically having one on me - which I usually do now). I tell myself that if I "make the roll" I get up and do it and if I don't, I try again in 20 minutes. This changes context easily, removes responsibility from me and makes the whole thing playful. I usually go with a d20 and tell myself to get going with a result over 10. If I have a particularly bad day I might need 15+ to do something. Just try it.

In short, what we are trying to do is

minimize friction by frontloading as much thinking and preparing as we can

make a context change as easy and small as possible

And remember: the goal is never to Always Be Doing Something.

#ADHD talk

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 2

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst.

See My Masterlist Here

Part One

Tonight was the night you were going to confess your feelings to Spencer. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, it was too painful. You were worried you would lose him when you told him, but you thought there was a good chance he felt the same.

You spent all afternoon cooking his favorite foods, planning for a night of cuddling and love making after you got the confession out of the way. When you were finished getting dressed, Spencer knocked on your door.

You invited him in, taking your seats at the table. You ate in silence, your nerves making your stomach hurt. “I have to tell you-“ “We should talk.” You spoke over each other. You smile, giggling with excitement. Spencer wanted to talk too. This is going so well.

“You go first.” You prompt him, smiling wide at him. “These past six months have been so fun. But I think our time together should come to an end.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry.

“I want to keep it professional at work. We can still be friends, we will just take the sex out of it.” He explains, studying your face. All you can do is nod as he rattles on about how the statistics of such a relationship show that the longer you did it, the harder it would be to end it.

You used to love hearing him spout a million facts about whatever topic he was talking about. But not tonight. “So what did you want to tell me?” He asks, serving himself more food. “Um, I was just going to tell you that book I ordered you came this morning. I thought you would be excited.” You rise from the table, retrieving the thick book from the counter and bringing it to Spencer.

“Thanks.” His smile breaks your heart. You can feel that your attempts to keep the tears at bay are failing. “Why don’t you take the food with you? I’m suddenly not feeling well.” You tell him, as you turn your back to get the lids for the bowls. You hand them to him, turning your back as the tears start to fall. “I’m going to lay down. Lock the door behind you.”

If he thought your sudden illness had anything to do with him, he didn’t act like it. Spencer was right about nothing changing. He was the exact same as he had always been with you, just without the sex.

Spencer was heartbroken. He didn’t want to end his sexual relationship with you. But he couldn’t put himself through the pain anymore. He spent all of his spare time with you. He couldn’t keep you off his mind. Things had changed a few months ago. He had bent the rules he set in place so he wouldn’t fall for you.

You had started spending the night and cuddling. Spencer had fallen fast and hard. But he couldn’t go through every day knowing you didn’t feel the same. So he had to end it, as painful as it was for him. It was no secret that you had been hooking up. But he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

Until two weeks after he called it off, he was so upset, he broke down and talked to Derek. He wanted to know all the details, but Spencer only told him the important information. “I have an easy fix for you, pretty boy.” Morgan smirked at him. Spencer leaned in, excited there was a solution.

“You know what they say, if you want to get over someone, get under someone else. You just have to sleep with someone and she will be the last thing you’re thinking of. Works for me every time.” Spencer cleared his throat. “Easy for you to say. I’m lucky she agreed to sleep with me. I’ll never find someone else so quickly, and I’m not sure I would want to.”

“I know someone who has been into you since she started here.” Derek boasts, nodding his head to the blonde at the coffee pot talking to Rossi. “Ashley?” Spencer squeaked, while Derek laughed.

Ashley Seaver was one coworker you could not get used to. She was impulsive, always throwing herself into trouble. You couldn’t stand her. Not only for how she acted on the field, but for how she looked at Spencer. She wanted him, and she didn’t care who knew it. She was all over him from the second she started working at the BAU.

She even knew that you and Spencer were hooking up, but she didn’t care. She used every opportunity to touch him or say something flirty, making eye contact with you the whole time she did it. Luckily, Spencer was oblivious. When you mentioned how she hung all over him, he said he didn’t even notice. He was too busy thinking about the case or the thing you did with your tongue the night before.

So you stopped being jealous. It wasn’t like you had any right to be. You and Spencer were just hooking up. If he wasn’t interested in her, then you would just let it go. The last time she tried anything had been a month ago. You were sick and she invited Spencer to go eat after work.

Spencer being the nice guy he is, accepted her offer. While they were out, he talked about you the whole time. She had told him to stop talking about you, that she was right there and she wanted whatever he was willing to give. He politely turned her down, but she was furious. She kept her distance from both of you since then.

That’s why you were confused when you heard her squealing and giggling, saying Spencer’s name as loudly as she could. You looked up from your mountainous stack of paperwork that you came in early to work on to see Spencer hugging her.

There was a vase of roses on her desk. “I can’t believe you got these for me! What a surprise! I knew you would come around!” She almost yelled, looking directly at you. Spencer took her hand in his, “I wanted to get you something before our date tonight, but I wasn’t sure I would have time to get them after work.” He explained shyly looking at her.

That little shit! Was he actually blushing? Was he seriously going on a date with Ashley tonight? And what is with the roses? He never once got you flowers. Did he call things off with you to date her? Seeing them together made you feel sick. Actually, the temperature felt like it rose a hundred degrees. You needed to get up now. You ran to the bathroom making it just in time to throw up.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @13430ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #between us

[saiidahyunie]

fake and true

minatozaki sana x f!reader || pt.2 pt.3

synopsis: you think you struck gold with an offer that's impossible to ignore, and sana thinks she's hit the jackpot in matchmaking. 

warnings: fluff ; cursing ; alcohol ; money talks ; reader is terrible at narrating ; sana is a few years older than reader ; tzuyu x shuhua pairing ; college student / tuition struggles ; jihyo mentioned but never appears ; not proofread

a/n: haven't wrote for sana in a HOT minute, also my first fic that actually uses a proper twice song?!?!

you first hear about it first from your best friend chou tzuyu.

“it’s an app,” she says while sitting on your couch, painting gloss on her nails with your little makeup box that you keep under the nightstand in your room. tzuyu then tosses the small bottle back into the box next to her with no care for it; she’s usually careless about most of the things in her life. “it’s just a way to make money.” 

make money? you think, and ask, with an eyebrow peaked up. isn’t that technically–like sex work? but minus the onlyfans biz—

“don’t be so reductive,” tzuyu corrects sharply. “it’s being called a sugar baby. and sometimes it’s not even that bad. sometimes the girls on there don’t even want sex. just company. they’ll pay you for dinner and that’s it. it doesn’t have to be so exclusive or that involved.” 

“have you ever done it for yourself?” you ask.

“me?” tzuyu snorts. “no, of course not. but it’s all online. a bunch of women have talked about it.” she looks up from her hand and gazes at you meaningfully. “i’m not saying that you should do it, but if you’re that desperate then why not? it’s really not that bad.” 

it’s really not that bad, you think, and just days later, you’re reminded with the numbers of your bank statements.

you rent was due in a week.

you just paid for the internet, drawing cash from whatever was left from your recent loan. most of the tip money you scrapped together for the necessary utilities in the house alone. there was also the debate if it was really necessary to cover the light bill when you could just go to bath and body works and use that money for strategically placed candles around the apartment instead. the water bill was necessary, obviously. and cheap, thank god—you never used it more than you needed to— but rent. rent. 

unfortunately, you can’t cut corners with that one. 

you take another bracing swig of your wine, staring hard into your computer screen. you phone rests right beside your elbow, and you glance at it, considering. mina had told you that you can always ask—

but no. your cousin never had much money to spare, and you can’t expect her to throw hundreds and hundreds of dollars your way every time you find yourself wanting, not when she needs it, herself. not when she’s the one who gave you the warning of going to grad school in the first place, having anticipated this happening. you can’t do that to her and live with yourself. 

but then again, you can’t pay your rent and live in general. you were already on your landlord’s ass for the last overdue payment as it is. 

so you let out an exasperated sigh, with your face in your hands, borderline breaking a sob, before ruthlessly scratching your hair and inhale through your teeth. you don’t know what to do.

you had a good case for compartmentalization. since you were little, you know that some parts of your life were meant to be separate and not coincide with the other. stress from school should not bleed into your work. a bad grade from an exam doesn’t mean that you can spend your day wallowing in the corner of your room and crying. your one option, the only option really, was to get better, try harder, and don’t cry. find your own solutions. it’s what mina kept preaching for you all throughout college: “find your own solutions.” 

find, you think again, distantly, and you look at the black screen of your phone. your own solutions. 

“it’s really not that bad.” 

you bite your lip hard, mind racing, pulse jumping beneath your throat. your adrenaline spikes as you reach for it, taping the screen and opening the app store. the thought in your brain rattles much like: i don’t want to, i don’t want to, but you have to, because you never have enough money, and you can’t afford to work a second job while being a full-time student, and even then it might not be enough. may never be enough. and you have to. the rent is due at the end of the day. 

a fingertip taps on the screen of the light pink app, and it’s downloading. once you open it, you refuse to give the urge to throw your phone across the room and forget that you ever thought of trying this; that you smash it into pieces and toss it into the garbage disposal. but that would be just another expense added onto the list, and you already can’t afford the one you have. 

with a deep breath and another sip of the expensive wine, you suck it up and make a profile. 

when the matches start coming in, you’re getting nervous. 

you drew the line of age range maxing it at just pushing 30 and above, you didn’t want to play with the idea of speaking to anyone older, even if it was just for dinner. most of the women you see are largely unappealing. most of their bios are either cookie cut with the similar story of their life or skevvy, worst comes to worst of the thought being that it wasn’t a viable solution for her money situation. 

the reality sinks in, and you’re nearly brought to tears. 

you’ve only ever had three semi-serious relationships. two of them were in high school, the last being with your ex-girlfriend when you were in your undergrad courses: elizabeth. she was kind to you, and sweet, and very patient. she had a predilection towards arrogance, having grown up with everything pretty much handed to her, but she was good, down to the marrow. it was because of you that the relationship broke; you had aspirations to go to school and elizabeth wanted to settle down, and you were unwilling to meet her in the middle, knowing that something was off. despite all of her vitreus and being aware, despite the fact that you loved her– truly, honestly— she wasn’t the one: she wasn’t the person that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

and, you think wryly, staring down at your phone screen, at the new message notification. neither is park jihyo sadly. 

but that doesn’t really matter, does it? you didn’t download the damn app to find a wife. 

you click on her name. her profile is as spares as it was an hour ago: a brief descpirtion of her job—district attorney, head prosecutor– and three photos of herself, none of them were too grand, just her in a well fit dress or blazer. the photos all lend an air of importance, however. of severity. this is a woman who clearly knows what she wants and is used to getting it. you’re simply another play-thing she gets to choose. the thought chills you. 

opening the message. it’s a matter of fact as you expected it to be: 

do you like dinner?

hi! you type back, cringing with a stank face while your thumbs twiddle with the phone screen. of course i love dinner!

great. a few seconds pass before her icon pops up again, and your heart jumps to the hollow of your throat when you read: would you like to join me for dinner this weekend? and before you can ask, yes, you will be compensated for it.

the upper row of your teeth are latched to your bottom lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. the edges of your phone slide agaisnt your clammy palms. you can feel the pulse booming in her ears, like a rush of a tsunami. if you wanted to, this could be the last chance to say no, to delete the app and pretend you were never in this madness to begin with. maybe you can ask mina for money. what cost is your pride, anyway, when compared to this? 

but you already had your mind set on what you were going to say before you could even type it out.

yes! i would love to. <3

it’s amazing for the bold courage you had to tell when you see her on campus, isolated in a corner of the library. tzuyu takes you completely by surprise when she shrieks in the quiet environment. 

“you managed to get a fucking sugar mommy?!” 

“shut up!” you hiss, looking around frantically. none of the other students nearby seemed to have noticed her outburst. “nothing is official. i only agreed to go out to dinner with her.” 

“still,” tzuyu adds, leaning back in her chair, eyes appearing like she’s caught in a daze. “i didn’t expect you, of all people, to actually do it. you barely just lost your virginity.’ 

“that’s not true.” 

“a vibrator doesn’t count.” 

“i was talking about elizabeth!” 

“who you broke up with two years ago. my point still stands,” tzuyu says. her bewilderment has melted from her face, leaving a begrudging amusement. “i still can’t believe you did it, though.” 

“you’re the one who recommended it to me.” 

“i know! but when the hell do you ever listen to me?” she retorts, setting her elbows on the table and cradles her chin with her palms, staring at you expectantly. “so? are you gonna show me pictures of her?” 

“i wasn’t really planning on it,” you say wryly, but pull your phone out anyway. “it’s not like she’s a girl that i’m actually talking to.” 

“oh, but she is,” tzuyu says, taking it. your attention shifts from her face to jihyo’s profile, flushing slightly when you notice the disappointed frown that tugs at her friends lips. “she’s cute, but i don’t know…” 

“what makes you say that?” 

“well….you know…” 

you bristle, shaking your head, “you said it yourself, some women will pay you for the company. she said that i’d be compensated for dinner but didn’t mention anything after.” 

“well, thank god,” tzuyu replies, scrolling through the messages now, pausing over the one selfie you sent to prove that you weren’t a catfish: her request to add by the way. “do you know what you’re gonna wear?” 

“probably some cocktail dress. she said we’d be eating at a restaurant in a hotel. so, i’m not picturing anything that fancy.” 

“i’ve looked through your closet, though. you don’t have any cocktail dresses.” 

“yes, i do. the blue one. with the long sleeves.” 

horror is drawn all over tzuyu’s face. “you mean the one you wore to your senior homecoming. when you were eighteen?” 

“yeah, it’s nice.” 

tzuyu takes your hand from across the table, giving you a look that makes your stomach clench form embarrassment; a look the precedes many of her statements about their different priorities, the vast gap between their socio-economic classes. 

“no offense, y/n. you’re drop dead gorgeous. you’d look beautiful in a black plastic trash bag, but that dress? are you kidding? at–tell me about the restaurant again?” 

“four seasons.” 

tzuyu then slams her palm down flat on the table, earning a glare from the girl sitting behind her. “at the fucking four seasons? hell no. absolutely not. you’re not wearing that, especially if it looks like you got it from fucking windsor.” 

to be fair, she was right about that one. although there’s no point in bringing it up now. “i mean, i don’t have anything else to fall back to.” 

“i’ll let you borrow something. i have, like, a million cocktail dresses.” 

“nothing you have will fit. i’m about your height but your waist is more snatched than mine.” 

“that’s very true, but i’m sure it’ll fit!” 

“should i ask shuhua for her input?” 

“you can! her and i are similar in size so we can ask for her help too and i’m sure she’ll find something for you to borrow.” 

you shift in your comfy chair, still uncomfortable. you’re not the kind of person to ask for anything. “are you sure? i think my dress would be fine.” 

“trust me, it won’t be. and shuhua loves you and loves playing these kinds of games even more. she’d definitely say yes to helping.” 

“if you say so.” you quip while leaning back, watching tzuyu pull up her other best friend’s contact, thumbs flying across the screen. a second passes before she whoops a little and shoves the phone in your face. you can see the clear—and predictable—dry text since she was at work and not with you guys: sure. i can give her the black one.

“do you know which black one she’s talking about?” tzuyu asks, brown eyes sparkling, unfairly dazzling under the muted fluorescent lights. “it’s this one i bought her. it’s a little tight and it has a sweetheart neckline. oh, t/n, you’re gonna look so hot.” 

“i don’t need to look hot,” you retort, flustered, “it’s only—” 

“dinner, i know.” she waves you off, texting again. “but trust me, you’re gonna want to make a good first impression. when is your date?” 

you nick your eyebrow and your mouth winces at the word date, it sets an uneasy feeling in your stomach, a perverse malformation of what romance is supposed to be. “this friday.” 

“perfect. i’ll come over with the dress and help you get ready. i’ll bring my makeup bag too, if you want?” 

you blink at tzuyu, a flush rising beneath your cheeks. you don’t know how to say no. how to remind your friend that this isn’t a date but a transaction, and that there really shouldn’t be any excitement about this. however, before you can try, tzuyu grabs your hand again, grinning widely. 

“this is gonna be so much fun!”

a week passes and friday rolls around frighteningly quick, giving you little to no reprieve or time to prepare, but tzuyu arrives just when she said she was going to. at 6:30 pm, right on the dot, smiling at your front door with a makeup bag in one hand and a garment bag in another. she waltzes in through the open door, gracefully, hair flaunting around, dressed like she was the one going out tonight. 

she jostles the makeup bag on her shoulder. “where are we getting ready?” 

you lead her to your room, crammed between her only bathroom and the small living room, directing her inside. tzuyu tosses the bag on your bed before walking towards the vanity and plopping down on the seat. she pulls the zipper of her pouch and starts pulling out miscellaneous products, an all-name brand: a small eyeshadow palette, a lipstick, bronzer. tom ford, chanel, MAC.

“so,” tzuyu says cherrily, hair up in a low ponytail swinging as she turns to look at you. “are you excited?” 

“no.” the answer comes easier than you expected it to, especially out loud, but it’s true. you’re not excited, rather, you’re— “i’m scared.”

“what? why?” 

“i don’t know this woman.” you walk toward your bed, slumping on the corner, shying away from the dress like it can burn you. “i’ve only talked to her a few times. she’s older and she’s important and she’s rich and—” 

“and?” tzuyu asks, swiveling towards her. “you’ve met my dad and brother. both of them are equally important and granted, one is an esteemed businessman while the other is a professional formula one driver.” 

“that’s different tzu. i’m not trying to be your dad’s sugar baby.” 

“i see your point, but—” 

“this is serious.” you snap, nerves fried, as they have been since you agreed to go on the fucking date. since you also realized that you were so dead broke that you had no other choice but that. “i’m going out with a stranger for money. i have no idea what’s going to happen and i’m scared.” 

“i’m sorry,” tzuyu says, sobered, all wry humor wiped off from her face. “i’m being an ass.” 

you look at the lingering wall, muttering your forgiveness, embarrassed at the outburst, but your friend stands up and makes her way over to you. she’s grabbing your shoulders, looking at you seriously.

“do you want to cancel?” 

“what?” 

“do you want to cancel?” she repeats. “if you’re uncomfortable then you can cancel. there’s no shame in that.” 

“i don’t…” you glance at your feet, eyeing the glossy hardwood floor below you. you’ve been needing to sweep up the place for quite some time, but since your mind has been caught up with other priorities that shifted away from simple house care—

“i can’t. i can’t afford to.” 

“there’s always other ways to make money. you can ask—” 

“i’m not asking mina,” you say firmly. “i’d rather sleep with jihyo than ask mina for anything.” 

tzuyu smirks and takes a step back with her palms up, held open in surrender. “it’s a good thing it’s just dinner than, right?” 

“yeah. just dinner,” you say. it’s as much as a reminder to yourself, and does little to calm your nerves. but it’s the truth, that’s the good thing about it. if she expected anything more, she would’ve mentioned it by now.

“okay,” tzuyu beams, hands on her hips, grinning again. “let’s help you get ready.” 

your uber—graciously paid by tzuyu—drops you off at the four seasons at exactly 8 o’clock; just when jihyo said she’d be there. 

you mumble a thank you to your driver as you step out, pulling your coat tighter around you. the dress beneath was black, the hem would just be a few inches above your knees, and tight. tiger than you thought it would be, but should’ve expected given who the owner is. you had always been slim, but your hips and breasts are—full, is a word for it. you’ve blossomed at seventeen and had a history of finding bras your size since then. 

tzuyu and shuhua, both tall and rail-thin, built like haute couture models. thus, the lent dress give to you would fit more snugly on you than you initially hoped, pulling tight across your hips, pushing your brasts up farther than you’re comfortable with. you feel like you’ve been put out on display, and the thought follows you as you steps inside the ritzy hotel, bundling up in the pit of her stomach like a coil: a woman who’s owned.

you want to vomit on the gleaming marble. 

the nice lady behind the front desk directs you to the restaurant after asking. when you walk away, you wonder if she can sens the anxiety and desperation wafting off of you, the fear. and if she did notice, what does she think? are girls in her situation common? do they all look the way that you do, with their cheap shoes and expensive dresses, hand-me-downs from nicer women? are they older? younger? you can’t fathom it. something being younger and doing this. 

when you walk into the restaurant, a sharply-dressed hostess in all black greets you with a smile. “hello, ma’am. are you meeting someone?” 

“yes, i have a reservation,” you say. it comes out in a breathless rush. “park jihyo. she said to come at 8. she might be here already?” 

“let’s see.” she walks behind the podium and picks up an ipad, tapping it. she scrolls down, brows furrowing, before looking at you. “oh okay. i do see a park jihyo here but she hasn’t checked in yet.” 

“oh,” you breathe, trying to ignore the rush of overwhelming relief. “can i…do i wait for her at the table?” 

she offers a sympathetic frown. “unfortunately, i can’t sit you until i get proof of ID from the person who made the reservation. it’s to prevent people from stealing other people’s tables.” 

“oh. um, do i leave?” 

“you can sit at the bar if you want?” she says, gesturing towards it. “i’m sure you’ll be waiting for just a few minutes anyway.” 

you nod and send a tight smile in thanks, walking towards the bar, angleed against the other side of the restaurant. like everything else in the hotel, it’s disgustingly opulent. the counters are a dark, shiny marble, as black as onyx. the tall stools have golden legs, the cushions soft and leathery when you move to sit atop it. a beautiful woman smiles at you while you settle in. to your relief, there are very few patrons around you. 

“hi. can i get you anything?” 

you consider it for a moment. drinking wasn’t the plan. and you were always a lightweight, and you don’t want anything in your system that could impede her decision making. but…

“a lemon drop, please?” 

she nods and moves towards the drinks, mixing with a quick, effortless efficiency that fascinates you, as eager for distraction as you were right now. the martini finds it’s place down in front of you, and you smile, fiddling with the straw. “i was a bartender for a little bit, you know?” 

“were you?” 

“yeah. i switched to waitressing, though.” 

“oh, really?” her eyes dart down to her fancy dress, alight with curiosity. you try not to blush. “you came here for a nice date then?” 

“um—” 

just then, an older woman sitting a few chairs down snaps at her, calling for her attention. she sends you an apologetic smile before stepping away. you sigh and take a bracing sip of your lemon drop, trying to pace yourself. 

you don’t. 

half an hour later, you’re still sitting at the bar, your second lemon drop in front of you, and more than a litte woozy. the bartender—seulgi, your new friend—stands on the other side of you, drying a crystal cup with a rag, as much of a cliche as she is. 

“do you want me to call a taxi?” she asks, concerned. 

“i think my friend irene would like you,” you say, sitting forward; her question doesn’t register. “she’s got black hair, and a bit shorter compared to you–” you’re holding your hand out and waving it around, slightly above your own head- “she’s really cute.” 

“i’m glad you think so,” she says dryly. “i don’t recall asking for a matchmaker, but—” 

“a lot of us don’t ask for a lot of things, but we get them anyway.” 

“that’s a bit of striking honesty.” 

“well.” you swivel in your chair a little bit, resentful. “my cousin always says that i’m a gloomy brat with a big mouth.” 

“and does your cousin live here? can he or she pick you up?” 

“no,” you pout. “she lives, like, two hours away. i came here for school.” 

“okay, what about your friend irene? can she pick you up?” 

“she’s probably sleeping or studying,” you say, wiving her off. a thought strikes you then, and you smile. “you wanna meet her, don’t you? i can give you her instagram.” 

she drops her elbows onto the counter and states at you. finally, seulgi shrugs. “yeah, let me see.” 

your smile widens and you reach for your coat, now rumpled from when you carelessly tossed it onto the chair next to you after getting overheated. you pull out your phone and quickly scroll through your messages. nothing from jihyo yet, but you expected that, having long since gotten the feeling that you’ve been stood up; not that you really mind. you mourn the money more than anything else. it’s why you haven’t left. 

“here,” you say, once you switched to instagram. “this is her username, renebaebae. you should message her.” 

“i might,” seulgi says, winking at you, before turning over her head. she straightens up, once again slipping into a professional veneer. “hi, welcome. can i get you anything?” 

curious, you turn over, blinking when you notice a woman sitting just a chair away from you. she’s thrown her suit jacket off and has her sleeves rolled up. her eyes follow the length of her toned forearm, lingering on her silver rolex, before moving up again, from the broad stretch of her back to the locks of brown hair. you only stop when you notice that she’s caught you, brown eyes twinkling, the flash of them almost fox-like. 

she has a whiskey in front of her. they’re alone. seulgi had journeyed down the other end of the bar. 

“do you need something?” she asks. 

“no.” you take another sip of your lemon drop, just to keep from looking at her. 

she doesn’t offer the same courtesy. “are you drunk?” 

“no,” you sputter. “obviously not.” 

she hums, disbelievingly and glances at the chair between you, as if in silent permission. you dip your chin and she moves into it, throwing her jacket onto the counter. if you inhale, you can smell her perfume: a rich, dark scent that settles into the pit of your stomach, slow-moving and warm. rich. her watch gleams beneath the golden lights, like her shiny oxford heels and the cuff-links she carelessly tossed into her pocket. she must feel at home here in the grotesque palace of wealth. you wonder if she can smell the fraud wafting off of you, thick as the victoria’s secret perfume you spritzed on just hours before. 

“are you on a date?” 

“no.” a wave of defensiveness rises up, bolstered by resentment, and the alcohol does little to dampen its sting. “and you? why are you here?” 

“i’m drinking,” she says, and takes another swig. your eyes flicker down to the line of her throat as she swallows. when you look back up, her lips quirk. “i had a meeting.” 

“a meeting? at the four seasons?” she really is rich. 

“no, a meeting at the new york-presbyterian hospital and then dinner at the four season. my co-workers are a bunch of old men who fall asleep at 9:30 so i decided to get drunk instead of joining them.” 

“you’re a doctor?” 

“trama surgeon. you?” 

“waitress,” you say dimly, ignoring the flush that warms your cheeks. you hastily add, “and i go to school here. finishing up my undergrad, actually.” 

“nice.”

you lean into your palm, staring at her. “you look very young to be a doctor.”

“so everybody keeps telling me.” 

“how old are you?” 

brown eyes cut to you, sharp like a knife and mirthful in a way you can only describe as mean. “are you sure you’re not on a date?” 

your flush spreads, hot beneath your skin, and you look away from her, taking another swig of the martini. you caught her meaning and you’re not sure if you actually like it, if she’s making fun of you. 

after a beat of tense silence, she sighs and shifts closer, pressing her wrist lightly against her own. 

“twenty-nine,” she says, “and my name is minatozaki sana.” 

roughly about seven or eight years, you think. not that old or too old for that matter. “my name is y/n.” 

“y/n.” and you never knew your name could feel like a caress in someone else’s mouth, but it does. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“you too.” 

seulgi passes by you again, getting another whiskey for sana and a third lemon drop for you. you can sense that she’s reluctant to give it to you, and you know that you should be mindful of how expensive this tab can be, but you don’t care. after today, with the stress and fear and the adrenaline constantly pumping in your veins, you’ve lost the ability to; you’re numb. 

and so you ignore it. “wanna take shots with me?” 

“you’re really trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” 

“aren’t you?” 

“it usually takes a bit more than two whiskeys and a shot to do me in.” 

“so no?”

“how much have you racked up on this tab y/n?” sana asks, and you visibly stifle a wince. “three lemon drop martinis. that’s probably over a hundred fucking dollars, knowing this place. why the hell would you go to the four seasons to get drunk anyway?” 

the tone is definitely something you don’t like, the patronizing color to it. it makes you reckless. “i was invited.” 

“by who?” 

“someone that isn’t here.” 

“so you are on a date.” 

“no.” 

“then who invited you here?” 

“someone.” 

“a man? woman? probably someone your age.” 

you huff a bitter laugh and take another sip of the martini. “not my age exactly.” 

“so older.” it’s not a question but a statement, and she leans back in her stool, eyes flat. “not a date, but you—some random, pretty-grad student—were invited to the four seasons by someone older than you. i’m assuming or man or woman?” 

“mhm, a woman.”

“can i ask you a personal question?”

“you already have been.” 

“why did you agree to come?” 

why else? you’re pondering. “money.” 

she stares at you for a few seconds. you keep waiting for the disgust to bleed in, or the judgment, or—if worse really happens let alone the unthinkable—the excitement for your perceived vulnerable, but she gives you none of that. instead, she curses softly under her breath and sits up, carding a hand through her brown hair. “that sucks,” she says, looking at you. the intensity of her sympathy startles you. “i’m sorry.” 

“i-it’s okay.” 

“she’s terrible for doing that, what a piece of shit. it’s rare these days how women act like that. even crazier that some can’t find real love on their own so they look for it in people like you. the ones that can’t say no.” 

“i don’t think she wants love from me.” 

her mouth thins, fist clenching atop the counter. “you mean sex?” 

your eyes widen. “no, not sex.” 

“then what is it?” 

“company,” you say. “dinner. sometimes they’ll pay you for it. it’s all over the internet.” 

“yeah, said by fucking liars. what woman is signing up to be a sugar mommy so that she can take a girl that looks like you out for just fucking dinner? how does that make any sense?” 

you’re squirming in your seat, nearly cringing at the discomfort. sana’s saying everything that you’ve been trying to ignore for a week straight, and suddenly, you hate yourself for thinking that you could be so naive. that you have the privilege to be, like tzuyu.

“i—” 

“did you drive here?” 

“what?” 

she stands up, reaching for her suit jacket. a pang of mourning shoots through you when you realize that she’s leaving. “did you drive here?”

“no. my friend ordered an uber for me.” 

sana nods and looks over to seulgi, gesturing for her to come over. she whispers something to her, a request to her tab, probably, before looking back down on you. 

“what time was your date?” 

“eight o’clock.” 

“i think you’ve been stood up.”

“i know.” 

she shrugs the jacket on, fiddling with the cufflinks. she looks disheveled, but in a way that seems purposeful. enticing. seulgi hands her a black booklet, and sana pulls her wallet out. you glance away form her, always awkward around money. 

“you probably shouldn’t talk to this girl again.” 

“wasn’t planning on it.” 

“you should also delete the…app—? she raises an eyebrow at you. you nod—”that you met her on. shit’s already sketchy as it is.” 

“i know.” 

sana steps back, and you bite your tongue, just in case. 

"it's nice to meet you, y/n. maybe i'll see you around?"

unlikely but you’re entertaining with the idea, dipping your chin an acknowledgement because you’re still too afraid to speak. she turns on her heel, and you watch her, eyes following her back until she’s disappeared from sight. you’re hitting the one eighty to face seulgi, only to falter when you notices the black booklet in front of you. “am i cut off?” 

“yup,” seulgi says, a smile playing on her lips.

you brace yourself as you slowly open the bill, cringing away from it like it can hurt her. however, it’s not the sight of an exorbitant price that greets you, but a wad of cash; hundreds of dollars. more than that.

and a series of numbers are written on the receipt, with a note on the bottom, penned in a somewhat elegant writing that shows a sliver of sharp intelligence.

“for subjecting you to an interrogation when you were trying to get drunk. good luck with school.— sana.”

“she left me a hefty tip too. for both of you,” she says, smirking at you. “you must’ve made a very lasting impression.” 

a close of the hand slams the booklet, and your eyes were unseeing. 

five hundred dollars. 

you’re counting five hundred dollars. 

five hundred. now 480 from the twenty you forked over to your uber driver on the way home. but five hundred dollars, given to you by a veritable stranger, along with—

the receipt is in your handbag, not messing with the thought of throwing it away. if not for her company, then for her generosity. and you really should call her; to thank her, send the money back, ask why the hell would she bother throwing that much money away on a poor, drunk woman wallowing away at a bar. jesus christ almi—

the trill of your phone startles you, ducking your head while you’re scrambling to the couch to yank it from your purse. tzuyu’s smile flashes at you from the screen, and you sigh deeply before bringing the phone to your ear. “hello?” 

“hello,” she says, voice pitched in a lilting sing-song. “‘i’m with shuhua and you’re on speaker. say hi.”

“hi, shua.” 

“sup, y/n.”

tzuyu chimes again, “so, how was it?”

“uh,” you glance down at your handbag again, at the wad of cash sticking up from the top of it. your pulse jumps. “it went alright.” 

“was jihyo as scary as you thought she would be?”

she, well- uh– she never showed up.” 

“what!?” you scrunch up your shoulders at the screech. “what do you mean she never showed up?” 

“i got stood up.”

“oh, beb. i’m so sorry.” 

“it’s fine.”

“so it ended up being all for nothing?” shuhua asks, appalled. “you got all dressed up and went down to one of the most expensive hotels in the city for fucking nothing? you’re still broke?”

tzuyu shrieks again, this time shushing in scolding, but you huff a laugh instead of getting offended, still reeling in disbelief.

“not for nothing.” you mumble out. and the line stays quiet on their end. “what did you say, honey?” 

“not for nothing.” you repeat, louder. “i…i met someone, and she…” 

“and she what?” 

saying it out loud wouldn’t make it make sense, but you force the words out in vain hope. “she gave me five hundred bucks.” 

the other end went silent again, clearly digesting this, seeing what they can make from it. that is, until shuhua barks out a mean laugh and asks, “don’t tell me you got on your knees for her or something?” 

“shua!” 

“it’s an honest question! what kind of old, rich woman gives a girl money for free unless she’s actually interested in?”

“i didn’t—” the lump in your throat rises while the heat flushes your cheeks. “nothing happened between us. we just talked. and she isn’t old.” 

“...is she cute?” 

you’re thinking of sana’s strong side profile, rolled up sleeves, and the low registered tone along with the bite of her tongue. “yes.” 

“so if nothing happened, why did she give you money?” shuhua asks.

“i don’t know,” you reply softly, pulling up your knees to hug them. “i think…she just felt bad for me.” 

“felt bad for you? what makes you say that?” 

“i told her why i was there, pretty much. she seemed bothered by it.” 

“if god was a woman,” tzuyu says, a smile in her voice, and despite her generosity, you don’t even know if you’d consider sana your saving grace; there was an intensity to her, to her kindness that belied normal human decency. you can’t even tell if she’d do it for anyone else. 

but if that were the case, why you the? what did you do to earn that kind of attention?

“well, i think there’s something else happening that y/n is telling us,” shuhua says bluntly. “i don’t see why she’d be that nice otherwise.”

tzuyu hums along in agreement, considering. “what do you think, y/n?” 

“i don’t know either, if i knew exactly the i would’ve told you.” 

“maybe it’d be worth taking into account asking her then? let your curiosity get the best of you.” 

you’re reaching for your handbag, pulling the crumpled receipt from it, smoothing your thumb over the fine printed calligraphy of sana’s name. 

“maybe i will.” you whisper. 

later after the call, you text her while you’re tucking yourself into bed, hoping that it’ll be late enough that she won’t immediately respond. the nervousness and confusion rumbling in your head to even go forward into speaking to sana. you toss your phone on the nightstand and turn over, willing not-so-tired body to sleep. 

the hope diminsieses very quickly. phone vibrating for a few seconds to make you jump up, reaching over. you’re tapping at the unsaved contact and click on the text, trembling. your own message flashes at you innocently, and you just want to throw your phone into the toilet or damn fire: hi! this is y/n. the girl you met at the bar tonight. do you remember? 

sn: 

hey. and yeah i do. 

y/n:

cool! your thumbs hover over the touchscreen. unfortunately, i think you might’ve accidentally left something with me. 

sn: 

it wasn’t an accident. 

y/n: 

oh, you think, typing away. i’im so sorry, and thank you so much for your kindness, but i can’t accept that. 

sn: 

why not? 

y/n: 

it’s too much money and you’re a stranger. i can’t ask that of you.

sn: 

you don’t owe me anything. 

a second passes before she adds: can i call you? 

your heart skyrockets up to the opening in your throat while your adrenaline spikes. for a moment, you want to say no. you don’t know if you can handle it, hearing her voice after she’s done you such unnecessary kindness. but it’s the thought that loops around and convinces you: sana gave you five hundred dollars. the least that you can do is have a damn conversation about it. 

yes.

your phone rings just seconds after you’ve pressed send, and you take a deep, steadying breath, willing your heart to slow it’s pace. you pick up. “hello?” 

“hey.” 

the low timbre of her voice makes your breath hitch. she sounds like she’s been sleeping. like she woke up for you. 

“you wanted to talk?” 

“well, you did. mostly.” you can hear a slight rustling on the other line. her shuffling in bed. “you said something about owing me.” 

“i can’t,” you say firmly. “i’d have to repay you, and as you can guess, i’m not made of money right now—” 

“i didn’t give you that because i though you would owe me something. to be honest, i didn’t know if i had a chance in hell of seeing you again. i was trying to be nice.” 

“and i appreciate it, but i can’t accept it. five hundred dollars is a lot of money, and—” 

“i’m a surgeon.” 

“which is how i know you’ve worked hard for it. i’m sorry, sana, but i can’t accept it.” 

“does anyone do nice things for you?” 

you blink, “what?” 

“you just seem to have a hard time accepting kindness.” 

“i…i don’t…” 

“fine,” she huffs. “i’m not gonna force you to keep anything you can’t accept.” 

“can i give it back to you?” 

“i was thinking more along the lines of: you could toss the cash in a fire if you want it—” 

“no,” you say, horrified. “i want to give it back to you.” 

silence lingers on sana’s end. your pulse roars in your eardrums and your fingers are gripping the sheets. you have this distinct feeling that you’re dangling over the precipice, waiting for the ball to be dropped. 

“how about you meet me for lunch?” 

“huh?” 

“lunch. tomorrow afternoon at 2.” 

“i…um…”

“or i can give you my mailing address and you can ship it back to me. whatever you want.” 

“are you asking me out?” 

her voice comes in lower, barely over a rumble over the crack of the speakers. deliberate. “if you’re okay with it.” 

you remember sana at the bar, under the dim golden lights. how she leaned into you when you spoke, how she listened, the geunine sympathy in her eyes when you told her why you were there. the way you mourned the loss of her when she left, with an intensity to it that startled you. 

answering in a breathless rush. “lunch. i-i’d like to go to lunch. with you.” 

“cool.” you can hear her smile. “i’ll text you tomorrow?” 

“yes.” 

“okay. see you then.” 

“see you.” you whisper, and drop your phone once she hung up. about two seconds pass before you pick it up frantically, dialing shuhua’s number. 

she sounds annoyed, plus a giggle is heard in the background. she and tzuyu were definitely hooking up. “what?!”

“shua! i need another one of your dresses!” 

half an hour before your date, sana texts you: “there’s been an emergency at work. i got called in.” 

you, on the other hand, was in the middle of drawing a very sharp wing, not caring for the falling eyeliner when you reach for you phone, frowning. 

y/n: 

huh!? what happened? 

sn: 

one of the other surgeons had a heart attack this morning so i had to fill in for him

it’s been a shitty day. 

y/n: 

i’m sorry :( 

a fleeting attempt to stave off the wave of disappointment that threatens to consume you, feeling ridiculous for it. childish. 

but it’s not so childish however, to keep you from typing, “will you have to cancel? :(“ 

sn: 

for lunch, yeah. but i was thinking we can reschedule for dinner? 

y/n: 

will you be able to get out by then? 

sn: 

my supervisor said i can expect to be out by 6. i can pick you up at 8:30 if you want? 

you press a finger to your lips, smothering a smile. 

y/n: 

i’d love that. 

sana’s reply comes a second later. 

sn: 

i’ll see you then. 

#hyunie #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #twice x you #sana imagines #sana minatozaki #twice fluff #sana twice

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you. 

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen. 

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on. 

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour? 

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time. 

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through. 

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened? 

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s. 

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now. 

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks. 

Eddie’s phone number. 

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone. 

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it. 

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant. 

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out? 

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer. 

EDDIE: Excuse me? 

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone. 

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them. 

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers. 

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh. 

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke? 

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that. 

EDDIE: Debatable. 

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two. 

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke. 

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant? 

This time, he plays along. 

EDDIE: I don't know, what? 

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight. 

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom. 

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny. 

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD. 

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face. 

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do. 

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me. 

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out. 

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying. 

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are. 

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings. 

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him. 

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you. 

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful. 

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene. 

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.” 

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him. 

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.” 

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?” 

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.” 

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you. 

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains. 

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent. 

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.” 

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips. 

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,”  you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” 

He didn’t believe you. 

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.” 

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb. 

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.” 

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.” 

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves. 

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.” 

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.” 

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.” 

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated. 

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.” 

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him ��� they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs. 

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.” 

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.” 

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.” 

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists. 

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him. 

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught. 

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you. 

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?” 

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?” 

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.” 

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move. 

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred. 

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip. 

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?” 

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him. 

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to. 

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts. 

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now. 

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy. 

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them. 

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking. 

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly. 

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in. 

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down. 

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers. 

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?” 

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you. 

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?” 

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance. 

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply. 

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.” 

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.” 

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on. 

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack. 

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on. 

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.” 

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin. 

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning. 

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory. 

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember. 

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control. 

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him. 

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you. 

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it. 

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days. 

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.” 

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.” 

“Yeah? Only for me?” 

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him. 

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned. 

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?” 

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.” 

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.” 

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down. 

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said. 

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.” 

“Why?” 

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release. 

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.” 

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed. 

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.” 

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed. 

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain. 

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers. 

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.” 

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!” 

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat. 

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him. 

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.” 

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm. 

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said. 

Loved you. 

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done. 

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #if it's bad do not tell me #stranger things

[aureatchi]

⚕ ᡣ𐭩 . ° . AND IF THERE WAS A PLACE I HAD TO CHOOSE…IT’D BE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT. (bedroom session) ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, akutagawa, sigma

— how the bsd men treat you when you’re sick. (& more)

a/n. started writing when i was sick djsjsja. tagging my moots who were under the weather anytime this month <3 to them & anyone else unwell, feel better soon !!

info. fem!reader. fluff. established relationships. light angst & hospital in akutagawa’s. chuuya plays the guitar. you play the piano in fyodor’s. sigma’s a chef. some inspo from RED for dazai & fyodor’s (our hcs!)

DAZAI will cuddle with you anyway, even when you are buried under bundles of blankets. he still thinks you need a little more warmth…and you look just too cute wrapped up in what resembles an igloo to not nuzzle with you! however, don’t be surprised when he blames you for making him sick once you recover, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“A-choo!” Your eyes were watery, you felt too cold for your liking, and it was harder than usual to breathe through your nose. Your sneeze made you sit up in discomfort, and you hastily pulled the covers toward you.

“‘Bella? Are you alright?” Dazai sat up next, meeting your eyes as you turned your face toward him.

He noticed how flushed your cheeks were and how watery your eyes were as you frowned—no, the first thought Dazai had wasn’t Oh no! You’re sick!

“Aw, love! You look so cute!” And he tackled you back down.

“Osamu!” you shouted as he lay practically atop you, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

“‘Samu!” you repeated once more. “You’re going to suffocate me!”

“You feel so cold, though, darling!” His reply was muffled as he buried his face into your neck.

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself sick!”

He sat the both of you back up.

“H-huh? What’d you mean? Why would anyone willingly get sick?”

“Oh, I’m not sure either!” you exclaimed. “Maybe so you can use it as an excuse to skip wor-“

You sneezed again, interrupting your statement, seeing through Dazai’s plan.

“Bless you ‘bella!” he replied, a bit too excited. “What were you saying?”

“I. Was-” you sneezed again. And then twice. And then thrice.

“Aw, my poor baby!” Dazai spoke in his infantile voice. “Looks like you’re super sick…don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I have a solution.”

“Yes, please,” you responded—as best as you could with him pinching your cheeks—thinking Dazai would finally get up and bring you medicine so you didn’t have to do it yourself. That was, in fact, a terrible assumption.

“You trust me so well you didn’t even wait for me to tell you!”

“Uh-”

He then proceeded to pepper your entire face with kisses.

“Get-well kisses! They work better than medicine, trust me. Because these ones are made from lo-ove~.”

“Osamu!” you shouted. “You’re really going to get sick!”

“Do you really think I care, pretty?” He moved his face so his nose was touching yours. “I’ll tell you a secret. I know why I’d get willingly sick. So that I’ll be taken care of by my favorite girl in the world-“

“You’re so stupid!” you facepalmed. “You see being ill as a reward?”

“Yeah, I’ll make you believe so by the end of the day,” he winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Thankfully, Dazai did give you medicine to clear your stuffy nose. And then he told you to stay in bed while he would prepare you…breakfast.

“Oh no,” you said, knowing well that you mostly cooked the meals for a reason. Dazai was good at many things, but there were exceptions. He wasn’t the worst cook, but he certainly wasn’t the best.

“Wait, please trust me on this one!” he pleaded before you could get up. “I promise you I won’t burn the house down.”

The brunette was staring at you with dramatic puppy-dog eyes, and you were too tired to object any further.

“You have to make sure it’s edible, too,” you glumly replied.

…

It felt like almost an hour passed. You started to get worried—was he really struggling with cooking you something? You imagined the kitchen would be a chaotic nightmare by now, and it was enough to make you want to check on him.

But the moment you decided to get up, the door opened with Dazai bringing in a bowl of hot soup. Surprisingly, you could smell the aroma—and it was good.

“You really underestimated me, ‘bella?” Dazai smirked as he placed the bowl on a portable bed tray. “Bon appétit!”

“I haven’t even tried it yet,” you smiled back. “It might be the worst soup I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t bad. You hated to admit it, but it tasted delicious.

“The virus must’ve affected my taste buds, too,” you chuckled. “Because for someone whose forte isn’t cooking, this tastes really good.”

Dazai wiped his head with a phew! “I actually…put in a lot of effort. I wanted to make sure I did it all right for you. Sorry it took so long.”

You wanted to hug him. You found it so adorable that he had really taken his time to make you something.

“Awe, thanks, Osamu,” you responded. “This was really sweet.”

“So…do I get a few kisses and back rubs as a thank you?” he asked.

“Sorry, back rubs? I’m the one sick; you should be the one giving me them!”

…

Dazai ended up giving you the massages in exchange for continuing to cling to you without complaint. You accepted and were defeated at this point—the man really wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to stay with you until you felt better, and very unsurprisingly he spoiled your recovery celebration by becoming sick himself.

“Heh…” he mumbled as you looked at the thermometer with a frown. Contradicting was Dazai with a large smile, despite just finding out he had a fever.

“Your turn, ‘bella!” he exclaimed. “I already called Kunikida saying I’m going to be out for another week! This almost beats a vacation.”

“Osamu!”

“What? Any time spent with you feels just as amazing. And this is just a result of how well I’ve taken care of you.”

CHUUYA wants to make your recovery as comfortable and entertaining as possible—he doesn’t want his darling feeling mopey the entire time. after all, enjoying something distracts one from the botherations of being sick, right?

You hadn’t done as much as you would’ve liked today. Unfortunately, you were sick, but not to the point where you had to visit a doctor or were stuck in bed. It was an inconvenient gray area, where you were still able to do things but accompanied by the mild symptoms of a cold.

“Nah, doll, you’re just a workaholic.”

Chuuya laughed as you pouted while trying to do your laundry. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you should skip your chores. You would probably still go to work the next day, too—as long as you weren’t dying, you’d be alright.

You sort of felt like you were, though. You were overcome by a haze of debilitation, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But you couldn’t just sit around all day.

“I’m fine though, Chuu,” you replied, but a contradicting sneeze immediately followed.

“Your nose is saying something different,” he replied, handing you a tissue. “If you’re so bored, how ‘bout we do something actually fun? And won’t exhaust the life out of you?”

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked, curious as you wiped your nose.

…

Chuuya had you sat by the table with a bowl and a box of cornstarch.

“Out of all people, it was Q who showed me this.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not dangerous. It’s weird, but I can’t deny this entrances me.”

Chuuya poured some cornstarch into the container and added a cup of water. “It gets a little messy, but…” he started combining the contents until it became a gooey mixture.

You started giggling. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the sort of crafts experiment you did as a kid.

“Chuu, this is quicksand. You’ve never made it before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Quicksand? Nope. But look—if you play around with it, it becomes solid—isn’t that amazing? But if you let it go-“

“It turns back into liquid, yes,” you replied before you sneezed again.

“It’s so weird! What kinda manipulation is this?

You couldn’t help but laugh at how the Port Mafia executive was captivated by such a simple science project. You watched as he played around with the oobleck.

You realized you could live this day simply as well. You proceeded to make your own cool mixture as well.

“You got some on your face,” Chuuya said a little after you were finished with your venture and were washing your hands.

“Where?” you asked, about to touch your head.

“Right here,” you felt his thumb gently rub your cheek and then move around your neck to tug you closer.

“Just kidding.” He stole a kiss in its place.

…

Chuuya sat down on the edge of the bed with his guitar. It was late afternoon, and you decided for once a very needed nap. But not before your lover entertained you with one more thing.

“I’m gonna give ya a little performance.”

He strung his guitar several times and ensured everything was correctly tuned.

Your widened eyes in curiosity made his heart warm. You were so enamored with everything he did—just as he was utterly obsessed with you.

He started playing a familiar tune. Your favorite song. You immediately smiled despite your oncoming headache.

“One day, I think I’ll write my own song for you,” Chuuya said. “You work so hard, how couldn’t you be the inspiration of a ballad?”

You cherished times like these. Even though you were sick, you had the company of the soft, sweetheart side of the Mafia Executive.

FYODOR is full of surprises, and you falling ill is no exception. unexpectedly, he decides to let go of his schemes and responsibilities for the day, to make sure you’re feeling better.

He could already tell by your unusual exhaustion yesterday evening. You didn’t do anything that required more exertion than usual, and it was too frigid in the year for you to feel so hot.

Fyodor already knew you wouldn’t feel so good when you woke up the following day. Your cheeks were flushed, and your head was pounding. It even ached to sit up. It was the worst combination.

Feverishly, you sneezed. A tissue was immediately placed over your nose.

“Blow, milaya.”

You looked up at Fyodor, who was standing by the bed. His amethyst gaze fell upon you—his usual amalgam of tranquility and complacency looked a bit different today…was there a hint of concern shining through his eyes?

You took the tissue from his hands and blew your nose.

“You’re supposed to be at work, no?”

You tried your hardest not to get sick because of this reason. You would be another hassle on Fyodor’s list of endeavors. You hated the thought of contributing, especially when he was already stressed and occasionally neglected his own needs with what he already had to do.

“You would really expect me to when I had to carry you to bed last night?”

The previous evening was a blur. Sometime after dinner, the weather immediately flew over you, and all your energy just drained out.

“Ah.” You sneezed again into the tissue. “Well, I think I’ll be fine on my own. I know you have a lot on your hands. I can take care of myse-“

“Please believe me. You’re not being a burden,” Fyodor cut you off and directly addressed the point you had been dancing around. His hand found yours and started to massage your fingers. He felt ice cold against you—or perhaps, you were on fire.

“Is your throat sore? I’ll make you some tea.”

…

He didn’t leave you alone for too long. Fyodor returned with a cup of hot ginger tea that you immediately took, desperate for some relief for your throat. Your nose was quickly soothed by the warm, sharp aroma of the ginger as you held the mug close to your mouth.

If there was one thing you learned, there was a type of tea for every occasion. Fyodor had an entire cabinet dedicated to those beverages—all precisely arranged.

“Is it alright?” Fyodor asked as you sipped, the liquid alleviating the soreness in your throat.

“Yes, of course,” you replied. “Maybe after I can try to get up…” your voice trailed off as you struggled even to shift your position.

“What’s wrong?” Fyodor moved beside you again as you frowned.

“I feel really sore. Like I ran a marathon without stretching at all yesterday,” you dryly chuckled, even though that had not been the case at all. Your whole body ached; it felt uncomfortable to move anything, and you felt awfully weak.

Fyodor didn’t respond for a moment, thinking.

“You can still entertain yourself without moving. Do you want to read? I’ll bring you to the living room.”

You curtly nodded your head and picked out one of the many books on the large shelf before Fyodor carried you to the sofa in the next room.

“Stay on my lap,” he said, holding you by your waist when you tried to move away.

“I don’t want you to get sick too,” you replied, confused.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I’m doing a favor for you.”

He motioned for you to enjoy your book and not pay attention to him. So you did as he said—you flipped to the page you left off on and tried to immerse yourself in the plot.

It got easy to do so and lose track of reality because Fyodor started to massage you—hands moving in circular motions on your shoulders to ease and relax the pain on your joints.

You felt both too hot and cold alone on your bed earlier. But here, in the embrace of your lover, you could see the end of your little tunnel of fever.

“Thank you, Fedya,” you whispered sometime after.

…

He got up to do something on his own a little later, but not before tucking you into the softest blankets you owned on the couch. He admired you for a moment right after—a touch of amusement in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a pout. You felt like you were made into a burrito.

Fyodor had thought the same.

“Milashka,” he simply smiled.

You thought he went away to attend to the business he was able to at home—Fyodor was infamous for being a workaholic after all, but you were surprised once again when amidst your reading, you heard a melody coming from the other room. Rich and resonant, you realized he was practicing his cello.

You placed your book down and freed yourself from the warm blankets before making your way over to the next room, disregarding the dull pain that still accompanied you.

Fyodor didn’t pause as you entered and sat down on the piano’s stool. You opened the cover and placed your fingers on the keys before smoothly joining in with the composition you had secretly been learning while he was away so you could play with him.

He probably suspected it anyway, but you still smiled and felt a little pride as you harmonized with him without error—and while sick.

♬♩♫♪

There was a moment of silence after the final note. You felt at peace. The tune made you sleepy.

Fyodor stepped towards you, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“You played it perfectly, lyubov,” he said before kissing your forehead. “How about a nap now as a reward?”

…

After a glass of water and an adjustment of the heater, Fyodor tucked you back under the covers. He checked your temperature with the back of his palm, and he was appeased to find that your fever had noticeably gone down.

You suddenly giggled, catching Fyodor off guard.

“Why are you giggling?”

“I had an observation,” you chirped. You wanted to tell him it was evident he had been stealing physical affection from you throughout the day and that he wasn’t sly, but alas, exhaustion had overcome you again.

You took his own hand in yours. “Wash your hands after,” you whispered before placing a kiss on his fingertips. “This was nice. I feel better because of you staying.”

AKUTAGAWA feels that the roles have been reversed because it is usually him who is sick, and you helping him get better. however, this time it’s you, and so he wants to repay all the care and love you showed him. for once, not to prove something, but to show proof of your adoration towards him.

You didn’t want Akutagawa to visit you that day. You had sent him a text earlier that you were sick—your pneumonia was so severe that you were admitted to the hospital. He immediately rushed over right after.

You told him he didn’t have to—truthfully, half of your heart didn’t want him to because of his already weakened immune system and his tendency to get sick easily.

Yet he still showed up at your bedside with a “get-better” box and pink tulips, a mask covering half his face.

“Ryu, I appreciate this so much,” you told him, a cough accompanying your statement. “But I promise you don’t need to stay—I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He didn’t respond before striding over to the sink as if he were in his own house, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. You watched him trim your flowers, place them in the container, and then putting it on the counter.

“Ryu…”

“You’re in the hospital. Do you think I could just go about my day like my girlfriend isn’t sick?”

Even though his tone was straightforward, his hand gently brushed away the hair covering your eyes.

He was visibly bothered. He hated seeing you in the hospital gown, lying on the bed. He hated the IV line attached to you and the distant beeps! of your vitals. Akutagawa went through this experience more often than not, and if not painful, it was always irritating and unpleasant.

He would never want you going through this, even once.

“Are you comfortable? Should I move you to one of the VIP rooms?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you though,” you replied. You noticed the exhaustive distress in his argentine eyes.

“I’m going to be okay, Ryu,” you reassured him. “I promise. Just don’t touch me for now.”

Akutagawa nodded. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you’re craving?”

“I want…something sweet,” you bashfully replied. “All the hospital food was savory…they missed a dessert.”

You could see the corners of his mouth slightly lift up—an unlikely smile, especially in a place like this. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be back.”

…

He returned with one of the sweets you always picked up whenever you went grocery shopping and a couple of figs for himself. Akutagawa didn’t like sugary things that much, but this fruit he could eat for days. He indeed ate one a day—you were able to observe how long he would be gone on a mission based on how many figs he brought with him.

Akutagawa had brought two today. Was he planning to stay with you overnight? You knew he hated the hospitals—he would never willingly go to one.

Yet here he was, pulling up a chair by your bedside.

“I brought a book,” he said. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I didn’t feel like using the TV here anyway, so nothing’s been entertaining.”

The onyx-haired pulled out a book from his coat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest,” he started.

When Akutagawa was sick, you often read him children’s stories to combat his restlessness. He was calmed by your voice and fell asleep faster than any over-the-counter medication ever worked.

The first time you had found him in the hospital before you were even in a relationship with him, you introduced him to The Little Prince. At first, he scoffed and turned his back the other way, pretending not to listen. But his furrowed brows relaxed, and his frown lifted as you continued with the story—the theme of the openmindedness of children compared to adults, loneliness, love, and loss all gave him something to think about.

Eventually, the book became a source of comfort and light to Akutagawa, and now he had his own copy.

"‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” By the time Akutagawa had gotten to that part, you had dozed off into a nap.

…

When you finally awoke, the curtains were closed, and the only source of light came from an ambient lamp on the nightstand. And in this night, you also felt a soft pressure on your legs—Akutagawa’s head. He had fallen asleep too, with the book still flipped to a page.

You felt both adoration and woe in your heart. He was sacrificing comfort and possibly his health for you. You desperately felt the need to stroke through his white-tipped raven hair, but you didn’t want to heighten any more chances.

You fell asleep again after minutes of watching your lover’s chest delicately rise and fall, just as he carried his true self without his violent front.

…

Akutagawa stayed until you woke up the following day. He went out to do some errands and then returned with a small gift for you he picked up during the day. That was the routine he followed for the next three days, always content to find you better than the previous day until you were all better.

A nurse came in with a final evaluation and discharged you. You changed into new clothes Akutagawa had brought you before running up and embracing him.

He hugged you back tightly, relieved that you were finally out. He turned to the vase of the pink tulips, which were starting to wither.

“Just in time,” he said.

“The get-well-soon flowers,” you giggled, taking your first good look at them. You loved how he knew of flower symbolism.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akutagawa said, holding out his hand for yours to take. “I despise dwelling in this place any longer.”

SIGMA is worried sick, even though you’re the one sick. how could he not, especially when he isn’t with you? are you feeling alright? drinking enough water? eating well?

“You’re sick?” Sigma asked over the phone.

“Is it my fault? I mean, I was feeling unwell last week, but I got better in a day, so I didn’t think it was that serious…”

“No, it wasn’t; please don’t worry,” you replied. You hated when your lover blamed your problems on himself. “But yeah, it sucks. I even lost my smell! I can’t smell anything.”

“Really?” You sensed his worry through the call.

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can pick you up and take you there—or I can call the doctor to your house if you’d prefer that-“

“No, it’s okay! It’s not that serious; I’ll be fine in a few days,” you said. “I just wanted to let you know because I won’t be able to see you for a week. But don’t worry about me. I’ll update you.”

“Oh, I see,” Sigma responded. “Alright then.”

Firstly, Sigma was most definitely worried. Secondly, you couldn’t smell? He knew how much you loved the dulcet scents of the desserts he created and the delicate fragrances of your favorite flowers. You must’ve been even a little upset when you realized that sense was gone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you to battle the viruses alone, despite you having just said you didn’t plan to see him until you got better. So, the part lilac, part pearly-haired immediately set out to plan a sweet surprise for you.

…

The next day, Sigma showed up at your front door with a homemade bento box and a few bags of groceries.

“What are you doing here?”

“I at least have to check if you’re eating well.”

One thing that hadn’t changed since meeting Sigma was the butterflies in your stomach feeling. He always showed nothing but ultimate consideration and compassion towards you, treating you like royalty.

“I’m trying,” you replied honestly. “Everything tastes the same. I can’t smell any of it.”

“Maybe it’ll be more appealing if the food looks nice.” With that, he walked to the dining table.

“You haven’t had lunch yet?” You nodded, expectably to him.

“Sit down, love.” He pulled out one of the chairs. You followed him, taking a seat as he prepared your meal—putting a placemat on the table and setting the bento box on top.

You opened the container, and you were revealed with an assortment of the prettiest foods. For the first time this week, you were hungry.

The ones that caught your eye the most were the rice balls decorated to look like chibi versions of you and Sigma. A part of you didn’t want to ruin something so cute.

“What—this is so cute, Sigma! You’re so creative,” you complimented him. “It’s like you cook with magic.”

You noticed Sigma’s cheeks tint a rosy pink. “T-thank you. Go ahead and eat while I prepare your dessert.”

“Dessert?” you asked as you eyed the remaining grocery bags he was holding.

“You’re going to bake here?” You weren’t complaining, but you wondered why he didn’t decide to do it at his place.

“Yeah. That way, it’ll taste the best. Everything tastes the best when it’s freshly baked.”

…

You ended up eating everything. Sigma’s cooking never failed to impress you, even for a previously sated stomach.

“I finished!” you exclaimed, earning a smile from Sigma in the kitchen.

You hadn’t paid attention to what he was making in the meantime. He had put the tray of mystery into the oven a few minutes ago, so you were unable to see what it was.

“It’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Sigma said, walking over to you and taking your hand. “Was it good?”

“Very tasty; I’m full now,” you replied, looking up at him. His ashen eyes shone a gleam of fondness once he made eye contact with you, causing him to fluster again. He was so cute—at times, Sigma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush on you.

“You know your body makes room for dessert,” he noted coyly.

He guided you to stand up, and as you did, a familiar scent softly breezed past you.

The smell of your favorite muffin—and the smell of Sigma’s kitchen. It was faint, but it was there. Your eyes widened in wonder.

“Wait, Sigma—I can smell this!”

Even though it was a bit dramatic, you were cheerful to finally be able to smell any thing after a couple of days. You spun with Sigma around the room in delight. Surrounded by the aroma that made you feel truly at home and the sunrays through the windows, you started to dance together.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, a bit concerned you were spinning around while feeling unwell.

“Yes,” you reassured him, drawing Sigma into an embrace. “I’m just thrilled right now. I think you’re cooking does have magic.”

…

The muffins were out and looked mouthwatering. Sigma took the first one from the tray and peeled down the wrapper.

“First taste is yours,” he said, taking your palm and placing the pastry in your hand.

“Today, I’ll be Sigma’s food critic,” you joked among the two of you. “He’s baked my favorite muffin—I’m rea-ally picky about this dessert, for your information. So I’m going to be really harsh on this review…”

Catching him off guard, you ate the entire sweet in one bite. You started laughing when Sigma abruptly gasped.

“Mm! That was delicious!” you declared, trying to sound like you were trying this for the first time. However, it contradicted the way you were reaching for a second one. Sigma had made this for you hundreds of times before—there was never one time you refused a muffin from him.

“Eleven out of ten!”

“And so are you,” Sigma added, bopping you on the nose. “If my cuisine does involve magic, then I hope that the food works better than medicine.”

bea’s acoustic songs are always so calming & pretty; in my mind, this is what chuuya plays for me. <3

i saw you said you were sick on the dash this month, i’m glad you’re feeling better by now/feel better soon, this is for you <3 @lovedazai @cheriiyaya @chuuyrr @osaemu @atlasnessie

i heard if you rb, your fav will give you get-well kisses until you feel better !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most <3

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. dividers by cafekitsune.

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai fluff #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya fluff #bsd chuuya #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor fluff #fyodor bsd #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa fluff #bsd akutagawa #sigma x reader #sigma fluff #bsd sigma #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd headcanons #aureatchi

[bimbobaggins69]

Destructive solution

Steddie x virgin fem!reader

summary: after becoming roommates with your high school crush and finally getting out of your crazy strict parents house, you get a little too close to him and his best friend (your coworker) —but they’re straight, right?

warning: SMUT 18+ MDNI, female masturbation, mmf threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, unprotected p in a sex, dom & sub dynamics, they’re all love sick for each other, controlling parents, one little suicide joke, reader has no game but she’s a pervy virgin, she’s also clueless about sexuality but does admit to having bi thots

A/N: This took way too long, I wrote a whole other story just to hate it and delete it all, Im happy I did because I like this plot way more. Please let me know what you think. I also did way too much “bisexual threesome porn” searches for “research purposes” cough cough for this lmao

It was your second week of working at family video. Instantly falling into a routine of stocking returned tapes back on the shelves and cleaning down surfaces and windows. It wasn’t your first choice of work but with your situation, you would take anything you could get. You’ve been saving up money since summer to finally move out of your parents house, they’ve treated you like a child for far too long and now that you’ve decided to take a gap year and not pursue college like they had hoped you would, they are even worst. If they’re not ramming information about different colleges and courses you should be taking down your throat, they’re criticizing your music taste, your friends and the clothes you wear. Nothing is ever good enough which is why you need this job, so you can find an apartment and break free from your parents metaphorical shackles they’ve placed on you since birth.

The one good thing about your job is your co-workers, Robin and Steve. You usually work with one or the other but the days you get to work with both are always hysterical. Robin is the best always willing to go the extra mile to be sure you know exactly what you’re doing, Steve is sweet and a little bit of a flirt but you know his reputation and well it’s probably just second nature to him at this point, you don’t overthink it since he tends to flirt with the customers too. But god is he gorgeous, you totally get lost in his eyes when he’s talking to you. Not having much experience with boys is the reason you are terrible at flirting back, the most experience you have is making out with Christopher Malone at church camp when you were 15, he might have also cupped your left boob but still, it’s not much to go off of and putting yourself out there to the male species seems a whole lot harder then just being alone.

It’s a lovely Monday morning when you show up to family video. You work one on one with Steve today which always gives you butterflies, even going as far as stuttering like a lame-o when he talks to you, he was always asking personal questions or for your opinions on things and it would always take you by surprise, thus the stuttering

Steve went to Hawkins high with you, both of you sharing a math class where you said all but five words to each other—but working closely side by side was so different. Using a lot of free time to have conversations, and by conversations you mean him talking while you twirl your finger in your hair as you stare into his eyes and at his lips, pretending like you’re paying attention.

“Hello, y/n” his hand waving in front of your face making you snap out of whatever daydream you were having

“Oh, sorry! I-I was thinking about-“ you stahl as you try to make up something on the spot

“About what?” He says as he lifts his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips

“I was trying to remember if I turned my curling iron off” you spit out

“Mmm” is all he says as he nods his head, giving you a knowing look, almost like he could read your mind. God, you’re so thankful he can’t do that

“So what is it you were saying, sorry” you say as your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment

“I was saying my buddy Eddie is actually looking for a roommate, he just moved into an apartment and I guess his job cut some hours so he’s kinda desperate to find someone, and I remember you telling Robin you were trying to get out of your folks house, so I figured I’d let you know”

“Eddie as in Eddie Munson?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yup that’s him” Steve says as he rubs the back of his neck

“U-um yeah, okay, can I get his number from you?” Your cheeks now a dark crimson red

You had the biggest crush on Eddie Munson in high school, sure he was “the freak” or “the bad boy” but something about him always enticed you, you would look for him in the halls, cafeteria and assemblies. You locked eyes with him on more than one occasion and every time, you felt your heart practically stop, you even contemplated buying weed just for a chance to talk to him, but you chickened out at the last minute

You weren’t sure if living with your high school crush was a good idea but you were also desperate, and maybe this could be your chance to finally get to know Eddie, if not intimately then maybe just as friends

“Yeah, I’ll write it down and give it to you at the end of our shift, just remind me” he says as he gives you a smile

The day drags on and finally at 4:30pm you’re clocking out and gathering your things to head out, as you walk up to Steve to bid him a “bye, enjoy the rest of your day” as you usually do, he turns around from the counter to slip you the number he promised you earlier, as you go to grab it your finger tips touch and you can’t help but get shy, as you look up at him and then look down at your shoes with an embarrassingly big smile on your face.

“T-thanks for this, really it means a lot” you say as you wave the number in your hand

“Yeah no problem, just give him a call and tell him I sent you” he says with a wink that makes your face heat up

“Thank you again, have a good day” you say as you rush out of there, kicking yourself for being so awkward

Once you get home, you head for the kitchen to use the house phone. Your parents never even allowed you your own private phone for your room, and luckily they weren’t home to hear your conversation, they’d lose their minds if they knew you could possibly be moving in with a boy, but for now what they don’t know won’t hurt em’

As you dial the number with shaky hands and a rapidly beating heart, you give your self a tiny pep talk “be cool” “just relax and be cool” as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. The line rings exactly three times before you hear a groggy voice on the other end

“Hello?” -—Wow his voice is so sexy— “no, nope get it together, remember, be cool” you think to yourself

“Helloooo?” Eddie says breaking you out of your thoughts

“Oh, sorry yes um- this is y/n, I work with Steve and he gave me your number because I’m looking to move out and he said you’re looking for a roommate?” You have never wanted to go lay in oncoming traffic so bad

“Mm, Steve gave you my number?” You can hear the smirk on his lips

“Yeah, I’m sorry is that not okay?” — god you wish you could just disappear in this moment

“No, no it’s okay! So when do you wanna come over? I can show you the place and we can go over rent and whatnot” his tone of voice almost sounds eager, but Steve did say he was desperate to find someone

“I can head over in a couple hours, if that’s okay?” You timidly ask

“Cool, cool that works”

After he gives you the address and you hang up, you rush to your room to get ready, you are not going to this meeting in your work uniform

So you freshen up a bit and change into something more you

Deciding on a rainbow band cropped muscle shirt — the shirt your parents always gave you shit for, because one it was “too short” and two “it was the devils music”

You paired it with some black high waisted shorts and a black belt, and then shoved on your white Reeboks, spraying some perfume before you rush out to your little blue ford pinto, the one nice thing your parents did for you—buying it for you your senior year just to get to and from school

The apartment was about a 12 minute drive. You pull up to a brick complex building with a little stoop, it looked fancier then you were expecting, two big pots with beautiful purple flowers on either side of the entrance door— before you are able to walk in you have to be buzzed in by the occupant, so you press the button by B13 and instantly hear Eddie’s voice through the contraption

“Come on up” he says before you’re even able to speak, you hear the door click and you open it— immediately being welcomed by a staircase, you walk up to apt B13, but before you lift your hand to knock you take some deep breaths, Readying yourself for this interaction with a boy you were love sick for almost all of high school

By the first knock, the door swings open and your met by Eddie, and holy hell did he still look as beautiful as he did then, maybe even more so, his hair was a little longer and by what you could tell under the sleeves of his Iron Maiden shirt he definitely filled out more, a little more muscular and maybe even a little taller whatever it was, was turning you into an idiot because you couldn’t stop your eyes from roaming all over his body, his signature black jeans with the rips in the knees and woah is that a bulge? “Okay—okay stop it right now!” You think to yourself, once you look up into Eddies eyes you realize he’s doing the same, ogling your legs and exposed thighs and sliver of skin between your shorts and shirt.

That somehow gave you the confidence to speak first— “hi, I’m y/n” you say as you hold out your hand for him to shake

“I know, we went to school together, right?” He says as he sticks his hand out to meet yours

“Yeah we did, we did— didn’t think you’d remember me” you say still shaking his hand

“I always remember a pretty face” he says back and your panties instantly grow a wet spot— because holy shit, did he just call me pretty?

You want to say something back and be flirty but all you can give him is a little giggle as both of your hands separate from that excessively long hand shake

“Come on in” he finally says as he gestures you in first

You giggle again as you say “thank you”

As you walk inside your eyes scan the place, it was really nice and you could totally see yourself living here, way nicer than anything you could get alone. There’s a few horror movie and band posters hung up around the living room— some fangoria and heavy metal magazines placed on the coffee table, a nice grey couch and a tv setup in front, even a record player with a crate full of vinyls. As you’re busy eyeing the place Eddie is busy eyeing you—looking a little too long at your back side than would be considered appropriate

As you turn around you catch him, eyes still trained on your ass, your cheeks flush and your heart starts beating a mile a minute again, but you give him a smile as you tell him how nice the place is

“Do you want the tour?” He asks, as his eyes are now eyeing your muscle tank

“Yes, please” you say with too much excitement as you bounce from the heels to the balls of your feet making your boobs bounce, which did not go unnoticed by Eddie

But before he began the tour, eyes still trained to your shirt—he points to it

“I like your shirt—I uh, didn’t know you listened to that kind of music” he says as he looks back up into your eyes

Eddie’s nervousness was giving you some kind of boost of confidence because before you could rethink your next words, they’re tumbling out

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Eddie” you say with a smirk as you turn around signaling to him that you’re ready for the tour

As he shows you around, you both can’t help but sneak peaks of each others bodies, you almost couldn’t concentrate on anything else—until he showed you the vacant room, it was a very decent size and could very well fit all of your belongings and then some

“It’s perfect” you say beaming up at him

“Yeah, this place has pretty big rooms, huh?” He says back as he smiles down at you

“So do you wanna go over the bills and stuff now?”

You look back at him with the most beautiful smile he thinks he’s ever seen

“So does that mean I’m moving in?” You squeak out with pure excitement

“Yeah, it does—by the way, when’s the soonest you can start moving your stuff in? You know for rent purposes, the mechanic shop I work at thought it’d be a good idea to hire a couple more people so they cut my hours back” he says with a glum look you wish you could kiss right off

“Oh, well I can start moving little things in by tomorrow, but I need to find someone to help with the bigger things like my bed and dresser”

“Me and Steve could help—if you wanted” he spits out a little faster then he anticipated

“Oh my god, I would be indebted to you both forever, if you did” you say with your best puppy dog eyes

“Yeah I can think of some ways you can cash in that debt” he says with a smirk that makes a chill run down your spine and a place between your thighs throb—you swallow before you smile back at him

“Let’s go sit so we can talk” he says as he does the same “after you” gesture he did when you first walked in

After you both talk about the expenses you’d be splitting and some rules he has which consisted of

Food—you can have whatever of his you want just make sure to ask first and you agreed, that he could do the same. No smoking weed on the balcony, the neighbors like to complain about the smell—but you assured him you don’t smoke, so that doesn’t really apply to you. Last one always let him know when you’re going to have company over, after agreeing and shaking hands he walks you out and before you go to leave he gives you a hug and whispers close to your ear

“I’ll see you tomorrow” goosebumps instantly rising from your skin, you nod and give him a smile before you walk off to your car

As you make your way back home, you try to go over what the hell just happened. You haven’t felt this giddy in your life, you’re about to move in with Eddie fucking Munson, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull over to do a happy dance or pull over to puke from the nerves that have just swarmed through your stomach at the thought of seeing him everyday, sharing a bathroom with him, holy shit— sleeping in the next room over from him, oh my god you didn’t think about all of this before, what if he sees all your flaws and gets disgusted by you— okay, stop no overthinking, this is your chance to finally be your own person, live your life for yourself and maybe Eddies the perfect person to show you how to let loose.

After Eddie and Steve helped you move your heavier items in—one of your first debts was treating them to burgers and fries for dinner. After grabbing everything from your parents house you left your new number for them to be able to contact you. Moving out the week they were on a work trip, not wanting the confrontation—but you were an adult and you are allowed to move out without permission, you knew once they found out they’d completely cut off contact with you, but you still held out hope that your parents could be decent humans, someday.

But now that you’re settled in, Eddie mentioned a tradition him and Steve have every Saturday, horror movie night. Being around both of the guys you get butterflies for might be a little overwhelming, but you’ve grown to love their company so it should be a good night.

Since it’s your first, you’ve been put in charge of picking the movies—settling on the serpent and the rainbow and fright night. You’ve decided on a whim that you’re gunna look good tonight, maybe that was a terrible idea but you wanted to be desirable, you want to feel sexy and for them to see you as such, so there’s not harm in wearing some cute little pajamas—enfaces on the little

As soon as you got home from your shift you cleaned up a little bit and then hopped in the shower to clean the long day off, once out you used some sweet smelling body lotion and spritzed some perfume on your neck and wrists—finally changing into an off white silk two piece accustomed with some ruffles on the end of the short shorts, showing off the underside of your butt—the top was very cropped and you’ve decided to go without a bra, it just looked better that way, you paired the whole ensemble with white knee high socks. After brushing and drying your hair, you give yourself a once over in the full length mirror that is hanging behind your door, you felt sexy—for the first time in your life, you could kiss your best friend Rachel for getting this pajama set for you on your birthday. The confident thoughts that entered your head left as quickly as they came, now you’re questioning how this makes you look—“am I going to look desperate” “are they going to know I’m dressing up for them?” Oh god I hope not

Before you could overthink any further, there’s a knock at your door—you were so focused you almost jumped out of your skin

“Y-yeah?” You ask trying to catch your breath

“Can you come set up the movie while I get the snacks ready?” Eddie asks from the other side of the door

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out”

It’s now or never, either you stop being a pussy and get some confidence or you’ll be stuck as the little virgin forever— so you take a deep breath and walk out into the living room to set up fright night first. Steve called 30 minutes ago to say he’d be on his way soon, so he should be here any minute. As you’re fiddling with the remote and pausing it on the fbi warning— Eddie walks out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand—

“Hey, hope you like butte-“ “woah” he said almost dropping the bowl of popcorn as his eyes descend along your figure in the little pajama set

“You um, you look nice” he says as he looks down, setting the popcorn bowl on the coffee table

“Thanks” you say with a shy smile— can’t tell if that’s a good reaction or not, but you’ll take it

“I uh, I’m gunna go use the bathroom, can you buzz Steve in when he comes?” He says as he rushes off

“Sure” was all you were able to get out before he disappeared down the hallway

About 5 minutes go by and you hear the buzzer go off— it’s Steve, you answer and buzz him through, you open the door and wait for him to come up—but as you wait you get preoccupied with cleaning off the dining table

You hear the door shut behind you, signaling that Steve is now inside, as you turn to look at him, he’s giving you the same look Eddie did earlier before he headed off to the bathroom

“Hey” you say with a little wave

He walks towards you with a 12 pack of beer in his hand as he looks you up and down, making a chill run through your body

“Well hello” he says as he walks up standing right in front of you “don’t you look nice tonight”

“Oh, um thanks” you say as you take the 12 pack from him

“I’ll put these in the fridge” you say heading into the kitchen “Eddie’s in the bathroom—just make yourself comfy”

After pulling out three beers for you and the guys— you put the pack in the fridge and head back to the living room— you see Steve and Eddie immediately stop their conversation once you’ve gotten within ear shot of them, they’re both ogling you as you walk to sit in between them on the sofa— okay these pajamas were definitely working

Once fright night starts playing and you are all sipping on your beer and passing popcorn back and forth— Eddie pauses it to take a smoke break, you pass but they still invite you to hang out in his room, while they partake

You sit up against Eddie’s wooden headboard while Steve and Eddie sit at the end of the bed facing you—passing the joint back and forth to each other while you all get lost in conversation

“So y/n” Steve says as the smoke bellows out of his mouth, looking at your thighs and then back to your eyes “I like these little pjs, do you normally wear stuff like that to bed?” — you feel your cheeks heat at the question, embarrassment washing over you

“Um, no actually I usually just wear big shirts to bed, but these are the only matching pajamas I have, so I decided to wear them tonight for the special occasion” you say shyly

“Yeah? I like ‘em, right Ed, we like ‘em?” He says looking at Eddie, making him choke on some of the smoke he had just inhaled

“Mmhm, we do” he says, both boys looking at you like they were hungry and you were a four course meal

You didn’t say too much after that, now feeling way too shy to insert yourself in their conversations— you guys head back to the living room to finish the movie, resuming your positions on the couch after Steve gets up to grab three more beers for you all

Once fright night is over and all the popcorn and beers have been drunk, you decide to save serpent and the rainbow for another night

“I actually have an early shift tomorrow, so I think I’m gunna get to bed, is that okay?” You ask the boys — noticing the look of disappointment on both of their faces

“Uh, yeah yeah that’s fine” Eddie speaks up first

“Goodnight guys” you say while grabbing your throw blanket and heading to your room— “goodnight y/n” Steve says

Once you lay down and try to fall asleep, it’s almost impossible, things seemed so off tonight— almost like the boys had a secret or were in on something you had no idea about, maybe it was in your head. But you also seen the way they were looking at you — and how disappointed they looked when you told them you were going to bed, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for— there’s no way they’d both want you, so why are you fighting so hard to be wanted by both of them?

an hour passes of you tossing and turning and once you finally find a position you’re most comfortable in, you start to hear foot steps, it’s probably Eddie going to his room— Steve must’ve left.

About 10 minutes later, you’re still wide awake— you start to hear faint moans coming from Eddie’s side of the wall “oh my god, is he jacking off?” You whisper to yourself. The moans get louder and now you hear another set of moans and some slapping noises— “wait, oh my god, is that Steve?” — “holy shit, are Steve and Eddie fucking?” You couldn’t help but get up and place your ear to the wall

You start to feel a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach accompanied by arousal, wow this is turning you on, thinking of both of them together— well this is new, never thought you’d be turned on by two men you’re crushing on having sex. As the moans get louder— your hand descends into your little silk shorts and under your panties, you don’t really touch yourself—probably making yourself cum a handful of times, but woah the instant need is something you’ve never felt before— you’re so wet, you gather the slick that’s seeping out of your hole and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow deliberate circles on it, as you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach— Eddie and Steve’s moans get a little louder, you hear Eddie tell Steve to keep it down, and then the slapping continues— you reach your peak as you push a pillow into your face to muffle the moans that are coming out of your mouth— holy fuck you’ve never cum so hard, once you’re finished the moaning stops and you hear some muffled talking but not enough to make out what’s being said, after a couple minutes you hear foot steps and the front door close.

As you come down from your high— you start to feel shame for listening in and touching yourself to something you shouldn’t have been listening to, but what the hell?— Steve and Eddie? So what are they like gay?— I mean surely Steve can’t be he’s a ladies man, still flirting and going on dates with the women that come into family video, but I mean Eddie— you’ve never seen him with a girl before, but you’ve seen the way he’s looked at you since the first day you came over, he’s never been subtle in his attempts at checking you out. You’re so confused.

After continuously tossing and turning last night you’ve decided it’d be best to just move on, clearly Steve and Eddie have a thing for each other and no matter how much you like them both, maybe it’s for the best to just start your dating life— you no longer live with your parents thus allowing you to finally go on dates, so why not indulge?

Luckily today you work with Robin, you wouldn’t know how to face Steve if you worked one on one with him, you already feel guilty for getting off to his and Eddie’s moans, the whole thing would just be awkward— luckily you didn’t see Eddie either before you left for work.

It’s nearing the end of your shift, you’re stocking the horror section with some returns when you hear the bell above the entrance door go off, Robins in the back so you’re in charge of greeting and helping customers

“Welcome to family video!” you say as you continue your strategic alphabetical placements, as you’re putting the last movies away, you stand up and head back to the counter— being greeted by a familiar smiling face

“Donnie Anderson?” you say with a shy smile as you look up at the tall, dark haired boy— you both went to Hawkins high together, he was the quarterback and you tutored him on multiple occasions

“Y/n?” He says as his eyes squint “Wow, how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good actually, how about you?”

“Yeah, same here” he says with his signature charming smile “wow you look great”

You can’t help but blush at his kind words—“thanks, so do you”—“so is there a movie I can help you find?”

“Right? Movie um, yeah I’m looking for dream a little dream and license to drive, they’re for my little sister” he says as he looks down in embarrassment

“Those are the movies with the two Corey’s, right?” You say as you raise your eyebrows

“Yup” he says as he nods his head slowly

“For your little sister, huh?” You tease

“Yeah, uh, she loves Corey Haim” he chuckles

After you ring him up and get caught up in talks about the past and future— Donnie leans over getting a little close to your personal space, working up his charm

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow?” He asks

“I have another morning shift, but after that I’m free, why? What’s up?” You say as you lean a little closer towards him

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow?”—“maybe catch a movie?” He says with hopeful eyes

“Sure, y-yeah that sounds fun, I’d love to” you say as you hand him the bag with his movies

“Cool, can I get your number?”

You pull out a note pad and pen from the drawer and jot your number down, tearing out the page to give to him— “okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a goodnight y/n” he says as he walks backwards to the door, and then turns around to walk out

Oh my god, your first official date! — you can’t help but to do a little happy dance, quickly being interrupted by Robin

“That inventory took way too lon-“ she says immediately stopping as she sees your dancing form behind the counter

“We having a dance party or something?” She inquires

“No, but Im going on my first date tomorrow” you say with a giddy smile

“Really? Was I gone that long?” She says with a snort

After getting home from your shift, you pull your clothes off and put an oversized shirt on to get comfortable— you lie down in bed and start to doodle in your notebook while crazy on you by heart plays in the background— suddenly you hear a knock at your bedroom door

“Come in!” You yell over the music

“Hey uh, someone’s on the phone for you, I think he said his name was Danny”

“Danny?” You say with a questioning look “oh Donnie, okay” you roll off of your bed and head to the phone—as you talk to Donnie on the phone about your date, Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table nursing a beer, with a sad look on his face

“Okay, sounds good! I’ll see you tomorrow” you say, hanging up the phone

“Who’s Donnie?” Eddie questions still staring at his beer

“Donnie Anderson, he was on the football team. Anyway, he came by family video today and we started talking and he asked to take me out on a date”

“A date?” Eddie says as his jaw clenches

“Yeah a date”

“Oh, that’s cool um I gotta go” Eddie says as he gets up from the table, chair scraping against the linoleum floors, he walks out the front door leaving it to slam— what just happened?

Going into work the next morning, you worked along side Steve. He was distant and barely said anything to you, other than asking about your date—Robin must of told him.

The date with Donnie went really well—but you couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie, all week he’d been hot and cold with you, one minute heavily flirting and the next almost avoiding you. Steves attitude towards you has somewhat gone back to normal, having little conversations here and there— you really couldn’t understand them, it almost seemed like they were jealous, but that can’t be it.

Finally Saturday rolls around and you wanted to invite Donnie to come hang out, maybe after you’ll let him spend the night and who knows maybe you’ll even lose your virginity to him—-But you’d have to tell Eddie since that was on his list of rules

After getting home from work you changed into a little white cami and some red and white shorts you got from summer camp years ago, they definitely made your butt look great, even if they’re way smaller than they use to be— you make your way into the living room where Eddie and Steve are sitting and talking

“Hey, um is it okay if I invite a friend over?” You say as you walk towards the couch they’re sitting on

“Uh, yeah I guess, sure” Eddie says without even looking at you

“Okay, thanks” you say as you turn towards the kitchen to call Donnie

After you hang up you go back to sit down with the guys, they’re deep in conversation about Eddie’s band. He’d stopped playing for awhile after most of the members headed off to college, he’s been looking for new musicians so he was asking Steve for advice — It was so weird, that you knew they had sex, but they were never affectionate towards each other or at least not in front of you, if you would’ve never heard them that night, you would’ve never guessed they’d have an intimate relationship— you wanted to ask questions, but it wasn’t your place and you didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable or like you were judging— you certainly had your fair share of thoughts about women

But they are your friends so maybe you’d be able to confide in them?

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt but can I ask you both a question?”

“Uh sure” Steve says as he turns his body towards you with intrigue

“It’s kind of a personal question, so don’t get weirded out that I’m asking, okay?” You say with hesitation

They both look at each other and then look back at you as they say “okay” in unison

“How did you guys lose your virginity?” You say as you put your palm under your chin

“Um, wow that is pretty personal” Steve says as Eddie laughs

You look away in embarrassment, feeling like you maybe overstepped— until Steve spoke up first

“I lost mine when I was 15, she was 17 and I had no idea what I was doing” he said “it was pretty awkward and I had really just wanted to lose it just to lose it, I never really talked to her after that, must’ve been pretty bad” he chuckles

Eddie looks at him with a knowing smirk on his face, like he wants to say something but decides not to

“And you Ed’s?” You say as you look at him

He blushes at the nickname, he loves when you call him that

“Um, I lost mine at 18, same as Steve it was awkward and I had no idea what I was doing” he says as he looks over to Steve and then you

Hmm, okay super vague but I’ll take it— you think to yourself

“What about you?” Steve says catching you off guard

“Oh um, well um” you stammered—both boys looking at you with raised eyebrows waiting to hear your answer

“Well, see that’s why I asked because I don’t exactly have a first time, and um I kind of want to and I was thinking tonight with Donnie we might you know” your sentence coming out as almost one long jumbled word

“You’re a virgin?” Eddie looks at you like you’ve just confessed to a murder

Steve looks like he’s at a loss for words— you just want to go climb in bed under your covers and never show your face again

“Yes, I’m a virgin” you say as you begin to bite your nails, not wanting to look at either of their faces

“Hey, that’s okay nothing wrong with being a virgin” Steve says

“Yeah well, I never had the opportunity I wasn’t allowed to date when I lived with my parents, it was school, tutor, work repeat”—“I wasn’t even allowed to have guy friends, how crazy is that?” You say still playing with your finger nails

“Donnie was my first date” you whisper

You finally look up at the boys faces, and distinctly see the look of pity written all over them

“It’s fine forget I asked” you say as you get up “I’m going to go get ready” you say as you sulk back to your room

Eddie and Steve were shocked—they weren’t sure what “not looking like a virgin” meant but you did not look like a virgin, you were sexy as hell, they couldn’t believe no one had ever jumped at the chance to fuck you— but they definitely didn’t want Donnie to be the first one

After you freshened up and put on a little bit of makeup— Steve had knocked on your door to tell you Donnie was here— tonight you were all going to watch serpent and the rainbow since you didn’t get to last movie night— you walk out into the living room and Steve and Eddie are talking to Donnie as they all sip on a beer, Donnie sees you and jumps up to give you a hug and kiss, you blush as he takes your hand and walks you to the couch to sit next to him, almost uncomfortably close as he sets his hand on your thigh and rubs it

You can see Eddie out of your peripheral looking at where Donnie’s hand is placed—Steve coughs and says “alright everybody ready to start the movie?” You all agree—feeling a thick tension in the air

The movie was long but by the end you stand up and tell the guys you need to use the restroom really quick—“when you come back you’ll ask donnie to stay the night” you think to yourself

When you get back you see Steve and Eddie but Donnie is gone.

“Where’s Donnie?” You ask looking around like he was going to come out of another room

“He left” Eddie said

“Left? Why would he leave?” You say with your eyebrows furrowed

“We told him to leave” Steve says as Eddie looks down at his feet

“Why would you do that?” Now you’re fuming

“Because we just didn’t think it was a good idea for him to stay” Eddie speaks up

“A good idea? What?” — “what the fuck does that mean?” You seethe

They had never heard you cuss before

“We just don’t think you should have sex with him y/n”

“You cant decide who I fuck!” — “Jesus, it’s like I’m living with my parents all over again, you guys can’t control who I see” — “I didn’t tell you two not to fuck the other night, so why do you have the right to tell me who I can be with?” You didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh, but this must of been a trigger for you, feeling like you’re being controlled, it made you wanna scream.

“What?” They say in unison as they look at each other almost like they felt guilty for something

“I don’t care what you guys do, or if you guys are gay or whatever— so don’t insert yourself in my business” you say as calmly as you can

“Gay?” They both say again at the same time

“Sweetheart, we’re not gay” Eddie says with a smirk, god he can be such an arrogant asshole

“Okay well whatever you are I don’t care, just stay out of my business” you say as you begin to walk away

“You heard us?” Steve says stopping you in your tracks

“Uh, yeah you were kind of loud and I had trouble falling asleep that night”

“See I told you to keep it down” Eddie says as he shoots Steve a look you couldn’t quite make out

“Hey, I’m not judging you guys okay?”—“I would never do that” you don’t ever want to come off as a bigoted asshole, you don’t want to be anything like your parents

“Thanks” they both say

“Can you come sit down, so we can talk?” Eddie motions with his head towards the couch

“Um, yeah sure” you say as you walk back to the couch

You sit in the open seat between them— they both turn towards you, giving each other a knowing look before their eyes find you again

“We um, yes we have sex, we’re bi”

“You guys really don’t have to explain yourselves to me” you say trying to stop Eddie from going any further

“No, no we want to, babe” Steve says—the pet name instantly making your stomach flutter

“Okay, well why?” You say as you look at both men sitting on either side of you

“We like you y/n” — “I’ve liked you for awhile” Eddie says — “since high school” he continues

“You’ve liked me since high school?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yeah, I’d always look at you and when you’d catch me I’d look away, I figured you must’ve thought I was a weirdo, so I never tried to talk to you” — “so when you called me and I found out you were, you and you were interested in moving in, I knew I was in trouble, that first meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you’ve always been beautiful” — “but holy shit” he says

“When I seen you on your first day at family video I wanted to ask you out on a date, but Robin told me to keep it professional, and then when I told Ed you had started working with us, he told me about his high school crush on you so when I found out you were looking for a room to rent and Eddie was looking for a roommate, I thought it’d be the perfect set up, even though I really wanted you for myself” he says as he looks over to Eddie—Eddie shooting him a glare back

“That night we wanted to tell you how we felt, I mean fuck you looked so good, we couldn’t help but to fuck each other while we thought about you” Steve says

“So do you guys do that often?”— “No judgement” you say as you throw up your hands in surrender

“Well we have an arrangement, where if we’re hanging out and we’re horny we just go for it” —“it’s more of like a friends with benefits type of thing” Eddie throws in

“I see” you say as you nod your head

“So what? You said you didn’t think I should have sex with Donnie, does that mean you think I should have sex with you both?” You ask purely out of curiosity

“That’s up to you, princess” Eddie says

Jesus this man and his terms of endearment

“So you both would be okay with taking my virginity?” You ask as you raise your brows

“We’d be honored to, but only if that’s what you want” Steve says

“Well if we’re all being honest here, I’ve had a crush on you Ed’s since high school, too. When you’d catch me looking back at you it was only because I was specifically looking for you. I um, I even wanted to buy weed from you as an excuse to talk to you, but I pussied out last minute. I had even wrote you a note to meet me after school, I was gunna slip it into your locker but I was too nervous, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it” you say as you reminisce with a smile

Eddie’s eyes widen at the revelation, he couldn’t believe you felt the same for him, you both could’ve been together this whole time

“And Steve I was reminded how gorgeous I always thought you were that first day and I loved how much you made me laugh, I even thought you were flirting with me but I mean I knew of your reputation and you flirt with the customers too, so I just didn’t want to overthink it, ya know?”

“Yeah, he is a big flirt, aren’t you big boy?” Eddie says with a smirk as he ruffles Steve’s hair

“Cmon man, not the hair!” Steve says smacking away Eddie’s hand

You couldn’t help but giggle at their antics

“Okay, yes I want to”

They both stop what they’re doing and look at you— “we need you to say exactly what you want, baby?” Eddie says

“I um, I-I want you both to fuck me” you stutter out

“Try again sweetheart, say it like you mean it” Eddie continues with a mischievous smirk

“I want you both to fuck me” you say with more confidence

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Steve says

“Let’s move this to the room?” Eddie asks looking back and forth from you to Steve

“Yeah let’s go” you say as you get up and hold both of your hands out towards them to take

You drag them behind you to Eddies room

“Woah someone’s eager” one of them says while they both snicker

Once you three enter Eddies bedroom they’re both on you, Eddie grabs your chin and brings your lips to his, Steve starts kissing your neck, his hand slowly moving down your back to your ass, he grabs a handful making you moan into Eddies mouth

You cannot believe this is happening

You’re about to lose your virginity to two incredibly sexy men, who else can say that?

Eddies tongue slips into your mouth deepening the kiss, while Steve sucks your neck and soothes it wish his tongue

You rake both your hands down their chests—as your hands descend along their lower stomach it stops at the huge bulge in both their pants

You cup them through their jeans, gaining a moan from both men

You break the kiss as you look up at Eddie

“What do you wanna do first, baby?” He says as he grabs both of your hips, smiling down at you

“I want you to teach me how to suck Steve’s cock” you say innocently

“Fuck” they both say in unison

“Okay, yeah I can do that” Eddie says

He grabs a pillow off of his bed

“Get on your knees” he says in a tone of voice that almost made you whimper, strong and assertive

“Yes, sir” you say almost as a joke but you could tell in Eddies face how much he liked it, eyes glazing over, now looking at you with an intense hunger, both of them were looking at you like that—it was almost overwhelming how turned on you were becoming

Eddie kneels beside you, both of you between Steve’s legs from his standing position, eyes trained on you and the metalhead. Eddie begins unbuttoning Steves jeans and pulling down his zipper, he shoves his thumbs in the waistband of Steve’s jeans and boxers and tugs them down just above his knees, his cock springs out— your jaw drops at how huge it is, he’s cut and has a pretty pink throbbing head with precum oozing from the slit, your mouth waters just looking at it. You never sucked a dick before and said you never would, but holy shit, you wanted to live with Steves cock in your mouth, it was beautiful

You and Eddie lick your lips at the same time, as you both stare at it

“Go ahead and grab it, baby” Eddie whispers to you— you grasp it at the base, your hand looks so small compared to it, which excites you even more

Eddie puts his hand over yours—“okay, now move it up and down, mmhm just like that baby, good girl” his whispers causing goosebumps to form on your skin

“Now spit on it” Eddie says

You gather all the saliva in your mouth and spit a on the head of Steve’s pink tip

“That’s it, okay now start smearing that wetness all over his cock, baby” — “yup just like that, fuck Steve she’s a quick learner” he says looking up into his best friends eyes with a smirk

“Okay now put your mouth around the tip, and suck” — “nope” you say as you shake your head

“I wanna see you first” you say as you giggle

“You wanna see me suck Stevie’s cock? what does that turn you on or something?” He says jokingly

You nod your head and bite your lip

“Dirty girl” Steve says looking down at the exchange

“I might of played with myself that night I heard you both fucking” you shyly retort

Eddie and Steves eyes widen as they look at each other — “hear that Stevie? Our girls a kinky little thing” Eddie laughs out

Our girl

“Okay baby, I’ll show you how it’s done” Eddie says pretending to crack his neck before he dives in—putting his lips over Steves tip and sucking, slowly putting more and more in his mouth until Steve is in his throat, Eddie must be very experienced because he doesn’t gag as Steve begins to fuck his mouth

You can’t help it, you have to rub your pussy while watching them, it’s way too hot not to—you slip your fingers into your waist band and start rubbing your clit, your pussy is insanely wet already, making your fingers glide over your clit so smoothly, you can’t hold the moans back

“Fuck, she’s touching herself dude” Steve says while looking down at you as he bites his lip

Eddie let’s go of Steves cock with a pop as he looks over at you—grabbing the back of your hair and crashing his lips into yours, tasting Steve on his tongue makes your panties gush even more— the whole thing is so incredibly sexy

Eddie breaks the kiss— “okay baby, it’s your turn”

You grab Steves cock from the base again, it’s now slick with Eddies spit so you give it a few strokes before you put it in your mouth and start sucking, then swirling your tongue around the tip, taking it back in your mouth moving down slowly finally hitting the back of your throat, you instantly gag on it, making your eyes water

“that’s okay princess, we’ll have that throat trained in no time” Eddie says with a smirk

“Keep going baby, your mouth feels fucking amazing” Steve says as he reaches down to grab some of your hair, reaching his other hand down to grab Eddies hair too—“fuck you both are so sexy on your knees for me” he says looking from you to Eddie

Once you’ve gotten the hang of it, you start sliding your lips on the side of Steves cock, you reach out, grabbing Eddie’s hair making him bring his lips to the other side, he knows exactly what you’re trying to have him do, so he puts his lips on the other side, mimicking you and your movements, up and down

“Fuuuuuck” Steve moans out

You and Eddie start making out with Steves tip— making him whimper and groan, the hands fisted in both your hair tightening

“Okay, okay I can’t take anymore” Steve says pulling you both up by your hair

His lips smash into Eddies and they have a heated kiss before Steve pulls away and grips your hair he’s still holding, pulling you towards him and smashing his lips into yours, tongues and teeth clashing, it’s a sloppy but calculated kiss, you finally pull away—looking at Eddie

“Should we suck yours next?” You ask Eddie

“Uh-uh baby”—“I won’t last if I have both your pretty lips on my cock” Steve rolls his eyes as he laughs

“Get on the bed baby, let us take care of you” Steve says picking you up and throwing you down on the bed, as you yelp

Eddie begins pulling your shorts down, both of them looking over your body like they were about to devour you— “take her shirt off too” Steve instructs Eddie

“Cmon baby, let’s get this shirt off of you, we wanna see those pretty titties” Eddie says

“Yes sir” you say again as you raise your arms

Eddie growls as he pulls off your thick camisole, boobs springing out—thanking god you went without a bra

“Fuck, look at that” Eddie says under his breathe

“Those are the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen” Steve says with his eyes blown wide with lust

“Lay back, sweetheart” Eddie says in a sweet but assertive tone

You do as your told, laying back but using your elbows to still keep you propped up—Steve moves closer to you. Eddie grabs one knee and Steve grabs the other as the both pull them apart, exposing the big wet spot right in the middle of your light pink, lace panties—Steve and Eddies hands both touching different parts of you, Steve rubbing your thigh and Eddie playing with the little black bow on the top of your panties, sending you a smirk—Eddies fingers move down to the wet spot, rubbing his fingers over your clothed clit and then cupping your hole pussy in his hand as he grunts

“Fuck you’re so wet for us baby” he moans out

“Can’t wait to stretch that little pussy out, make it take both of us at the same time” Eddie says to Steve making your pussy throb right where his hand is placed

“I-I want that so bad” you moan out

“Not now baby, that’s for another day, we gotta get you use to one cock today”—“but soon you’ll be taking both of us in all your tight little holes, Kay?”

“Yes, sir” you say with slight disappointment, although the promise of another time instantly makes your stomach flutter

Eddie puts his thumbs in the waist band of your panties, pulling them down, you let them fall off your legs and onto the floor—Eddies instantly grabbing your knees and pulling them apart exposing your glistening cunt to both men, you slightly flinch as the cold hair hits the wetness of your pussy

“I have an idea” Eddie says — “turn around ass up, now” he demands, you immediately follow his directions getting into what you know as the doggystyle position from the details of one of your best friends many rendezvous

Once in position Eddie pushes your lower back in trying to make you arch your ass more for them, Steve lays down in between your thighs, so you’re sitting on his face, as his back is against the mattress, he licks a long strip from your aching hole to your pulsing clit—you can’t help but to moan out an “oh fuck” as he reaches your clit

Eddie chuckles as he stands between Steves spread legs and grabs both of your ass cheeks with his big palms spreading them and bringing his tongue to your tight second hole—holy shit, holy shit, you could cry from how amazing their tongues feel on you—Steve starts fucking you with his tongue, as Eddie continues licking your asshole, he begins to fuck your ass a little bit with the tip, before he moves down towards Steves, they both lick each others tongues before going back to using their tongues on you, you could cum right then and there, and you want to so bad—you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, as you’re seeing stars and moaning so loud the neighbors can hear you. What tips you over the edge is Eddie slowly putting his finger inside your pussy, curling it up and hitting something inside of you that felt like heaven

“fuck daddy, I’m cumming!” You scream out

You had no idea where that came from, maybe something one of your friends told you they said to their partner and it probably stuck with you because you thought it was hot

Eddie and Steve stop their ministrations once your pussy stopped clenching around Eddies finger

“Daddy?” Eddie asks as he looks at Steve with the biggest smile

“Fuck princess, and here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter, now we find out you’re a secret little slut, too?” Eddie says teasingly

You couldn’t help but moan at his words and tone of voice—“is that what you want, baby?” Steve asks “you want to be our dirty little slut?”

“Yes, yes please” you say as the mattress muffles your words from your position

“You’re such a good girl, baby, such a good fucking girl for us” Steve says

“She’s the perfect girl for us” Eddie says back as his arm wraps around your lower stomach turning you around with a strength you’d never know he had

“Alright baby, who do you want to fuck you first?” Steve asks as he removes his pants and boxers completely, working on Eddies next—they both rid themselves of their shirts now matching your nakedness

“I don’t want to choose”—“I want you both to feel good” you whine

“Oh princess, we are gunna feel good, one of our dicks are gunna be in you while another one’s gunna be in one of our ass, how does that sound?” Eddie asks

“Oh my god, yes please that sounds so hot” you beg

“You have to pick which one of us fucks you first, remember?”—“don’t go getting all cock drunk on us now baby, we haven’t even started”

“Okay Um, I want Eddie to fuck me while you fuck him” you say to Steve

Eddie crawls toward you on the bed, spreading your legs wider for him as he gives you a deep kiss— Steve opens Eddies side drawer getting out a bottle of lube and pouring it in the palm of his hand and then stroking his cock with it, smearing it all over, he then takes the bottle of lube and pours more onto his fingers bringing them to Eddies ass and rubbing it in, inserting a finger into his tight hole and pumping in and out. Eddie moans into the kiss as he wraps his hand around his cock, bringing it closer to your pussy, rubbing it up and down your wet slit— finally Steve takes his cock and positions the head of it toward Eddies asshole, pushing in slowly, inch by inch making Eddie moan out a “fuuuck”— as Steve is sliding into him, Eddie positions his cock at your entrance. He looks down at you to gage your reaction

“Are you okay, baby?” He ask as his head barely slips through

“Mmmm, yeah, I-I’m okay”

Steve stills inside of Eddie, waiting for him to bottom out in you, not wanting to accidentally push Eddie into you with his thrusts

Eddie goes excruciatingly slow, so you have to tell him he can go a little faster—it hurts but it’s nothing you can’t handle, you’re wet enough for it to be almost painless, just feeling a little bit of pressure

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks as he’s finally bottomed out inside of you—“yeah baby, please move, don’t stop” you whine out

Eddie finally starts thrusting, fucking into you but also fucking Steve’s cock into him

You all three are a moaning mess—throwing out a stray “fuck” and “oh my god” here and there

“Please please, fuck me harder” you moan out to Eddie while his face is buried in your neck

Eddie’s thrusts get faster, making Steves do the same, now Steve is fucking Eddie into you and it feels amazing, both of their hands all over you and all over each other—Steve bends down towards you and Eddie while he’s still fucking into him, hard— Steve takes Eddies hair and yours and brings you all into a three way kiss of just tongues, all of you moaning out into each others mouths—- once Steve let’s go of you and Eddie’s hair he goes back to his position above you both, slapping Eddies ass as he fucks into him harder

Eddie’s losing his mind, yelling out so many obscenities and filthy things, into your neck 

“Fuck yes, goddammit you both feel so fucking good!” He moans out

He picks his head up from your neck, looking down at you—“your pussy’s so good baby, you’re so tight and wet, fuck”—“I’m gunna cum, fuck I’m gunna cum, where do you want it?” Eddie asks you

“In my mouth daddy” you moan out

“Fuuuck”—“Steve move!” Eddie shouts, Steve pulls his cock out of him, he strokes it as he’s nearing his release, too

You fall to your knees underneath both of them as they stroke their cocks above your face, you hold your tongue out awaiting their cum

“Yes baby, open up a little wider” —-“fuck yeah, just like that” Eddie says as white hot ropes of cum squirt out onto your lips and tongue, Steve can’t hold it in any longer as he’s watching Eddie paint your tongue, his cum squirting onto your cum filled tongue, getting some on your chin

Eddie brings his thumb to your chin wiping Steve’s cum off bringing it up to your tongue, you obey by licking it off—your tongue covered in their cum as you show it off to both of them— you instantly love the taste of them in your mouth, sitting on your tongue, you love the look they give you even more—like they could ravish you again—you finally swallow, holding your tongue back out to show them what a good girl you are

“Holy shit, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” Eddie says to Steve as he nods his head in agreement

“Get up here, babe” Steve says as he grabs your arm to help you up

“Go lay on the bed with Eds, and I’ll clean you both up” he says as he goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel to clean you and Eddie off with, after he’s done, he lays down on the other side of you throwing his arm over your stomach and onto Eddie’s

“We should go on a date soon” Eddie says as he lifts his head to look at you and the other man beside you

“Really?” you say with excitement

“Yeah we wanna take you out, show you off” Steve says

“So you both want to be with me?” You ask with a big smile on your face

“Of course we do, you’re our girl”

THANK YOU FOR READING

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

•Tag list•

@jordanwalkersworld @local-stoner-bitch

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie coded #steddie hyperfixation #steddie au #steddie recs #steddie stranger things #steddie oneshot #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve Harrington smut

[throwaway-yandere]

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first. 

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence. 

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi: 

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide. 

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend. 

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard. 

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle. 

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life. 

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!” 

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny. 

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared. 

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever. 

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death. 

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word. 

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper. 

Nothing but an empty table. 

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear. 

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.” 

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside. 

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back. 

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened. 

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable. 

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened. 

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does. 

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.” 

You hated it. 

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter. 

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry. 

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself. 

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling. 

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now. 

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr 

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

[slayingfiction]

How I push through writing when I don't feel like writing.

Here are some of the techniques that I use to help me write more often or more consistantly when my laziness/depression/anxiety starts to take over.

I watch TV. I don't do it with the purpose of zoning out though. I watch something popular and well-liked such as the LOR or Harry Potter to get new ideas on how I can develop my story and apply their in-depth world-building ideas to help develop mine. Without plagarizing of course!!!!

Zoning out and daydreaming. As I have mentionned before, daydreaming is a huge part of my story outlining and world-building process. I'll stand in the shower, or take a walk and think about how my charcaters would act/react/behave in situations, mundane or not. Doing this gives me a better sense of my characters, and sometimes gives me ideas for scenes I use later on.

Work on writing related projects. These work well at keeping me distracted while still being productive on my writing goals. Example, I have one story I am working now, I made a new language (alphabet and numbers included) to include as a cool and fun component for the book. So, at times when I don't wan't to write, I continue creating the dictionary (very fun, 8/10 would recommend). Also, for the same book, my characters don't work off the Georigian calendar and 24 hour clock, so I've been working at creating a new calendar (harder than it seems, 2.5/10 dont recommend). These are side projects that help my story, without having to write.

Reading. You saw this one coming, I know. Reading is great, especially when you're editing, your writing style will unconsciously change to be more similar the author you were just reading. Also, most importantly, I'll be reading and think, "this story is really good, but you know what story I like even better? Mine." then change to writing.

This one is my biggest life saver!! I learnt about a year ago that sometimes I'll get bored of writing a story, and have difficulty keeping on track. That's why I finished my first book in 2016 and just started editing the first draft last week. The solution for me was to work on multiple projects at once, because it was much harder to be bored of multiple stories. I stick to 2, but will sometimes add a third. This is easy for me, because I have a list of over a dozen series I want to write. Don't abandon one project for another, use them as a distraction/ motivation for each other, so you're always furthering at least one project. I've never heard someone say, "oh no, i accidentally worked on this other writing project for three months instead of the other writing project I was doing. Dammit." No, we're just happy we have written something. Be sure to have well outlined story lines before starting, don't just start writing randomly or you'll reach a point where you don't know where to go from there.

Author/ writer projects. Maybe this is building a following, or community to share your projects and engage with. Tumblr, Insta, Reddit, whatever it is. My hope this year is to start up my website to offer publishing services (editing, graphic design, short writing courses) and build a following as a writer. (See what I did there? Never a bad time to self-promote ;) ) Having your own projects like this will help you in the future when you're going to try to publish and sell your books!

Talk with friends and a writing community. Never underestimate the passion that will burn inside you when talking about your story, or when others are talking about theirs. Surrounding yourself with a positive writing community can be the best thing for you as a writer.

Write or read (your story) every day. I'm not going to be one of those people that say you need to write 1000 words a day, that's a lot. But maybe try for 100? That could maybe only take 5 minutes, and at the end of the year that's still over 36 thousand words of a novel. Or just read your story, and I've always found it helped me get in the creative mood.

Make a playlist of songs that remind you of your characters, your story, or just puts you in the mood to write. Then play it ONLY when you're having trouble writing. Playing it while writing will not help, you'll get annoyed with the songs.

Just really can't do it today? That's okay, take a break. You deserve it. There's always tomorrow.

Does anyone else have ways they push themselves to keep writing? Let us know in the comments!

Happy Writing!

#novel writing #writer #author #wip #writing motivation #keep writing #writeblr #creative writing #writing advice #writing tips #writing is hard #writing help #fiction #writing fiction #writers community #how to write #writing blog #writing problems #writerscommunity #tumblr writers #writing

[wwinterwitch]

the film (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: after finding a very interesting movie in eddie's trailer, you can't help but point out a very important detail...you and the girl on the tv look exactly alike.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4,678

requested?: yes

warnings/what to expect: SMUT (18+ MDNI), bestfriend!eddie, descriptions of a porn video, reader has glasses, teasing, kissing, dry humping, dirty talk, glasses kink i guess, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, facial (yk), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, protected sex (yay!), praise, daddy kink, also gif's not mine

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

main masterlist | stranger things masterlist

Like any other Friday night you found yourself laying in Eddie's bed, listening to him compose new music for his band. The scene has to be the best way to end the week. Watching Eddie play his guitar, half of his hair up in a bun while half fell loosely to his shoulders, the short sleeved t-shirt he was wearing did little to no attempt to cover his arms...

God, you love Fridays.

But your show was interrupted when Eddie stopped playing, unplugging his guitar before hanging it on the wall where it usually is before joining you on the bed. Both of you were with your backs against the mattress, looking up at the ceiling of Eddie's room.

"You're staying the night?" he asks.

It wasn't unusual for you to spend the night at Eddie's house. The two of you have been best friends since you were little, so sleepovers were a recurrent thing. Your parents love Eddie, Uncle Wayne loves you. You're always welcomed to stay, just like Eddie is always welcomed to stay at your house.

And unlike what most people would think, nothing has ever happened between you and Eddie. Not once in all your years of friendship.

Not like you haven't thought of something happening. Because you have. Far too many times.

You can't deny that even though you enjoy spending time with him, it's gets harder and harder to pretend like sleeping next to him isn't driving you insane. Because you can't do anything but lay there. You can't move closer, you can't touch him. You can't tangle your fingers in his hair and whimper next to his ear while he's fingering you underneath the covers, trying your best to stay quiet because your parents are sleeping in the room at the end of the hallway. All of that lives hidden inside your mind.

"Maybe," was your reply, still not entirely sure if his company is worth spending yet another night craving him. "Why?"

"I need to make a quick delivery down the block. I wanted to know if I needed to take my van or not, in case I needed to give you a ride home."

"Wasn't planning on leaving yet."

"Good," was his reply, that hint of a flirtatious tone in his voice, but the glimpse of it wasn't strong enough to let yourself believe he's actually flirting. Eddie stood up to walk over to his desk, the familiar lunchbox placed there. He took out a few bags before putting on his usual leather jacket and putting the bags inside the pockets. "Wanna go with me?"

"I'd rather stay here."

"Fine. Try not to burn my house down."

With that said, Eddie walked out of his bedroom. Shortly after, you heard the front door of the trailer opening and closing, meaning you're completely alone now.

You rolled to your side on his bed, getting into a much comfortable position. The small TV in one corner of his room catches your attention, and you figure you could watch something until he gets back. The remote control was on top of his nightstand, but shortly after trying to turn the TV on a couple of times you realized it wasn't working.

Sighing, you stood up from the bed and began pushing the little button that should turn the artifact on, but nothing was happening. The solution to your current problem appeared before you when you kneeled down to check the cable, realizing it was disconnected.

As soon as you plug the TV, you hear a series of loud moans coming from it. You jumped slightly at the sudden sound, your cheeks starting to burn a little when you realize what is going on.

Eddie forgot he had a porn film playing. Maybe he had to unplug the damn thing in order to avoid getting caught watching that. Was it Uncle Wayne the one that almost discovered him or was it you?

But before your mind could drift entirely that way, you focus on another much important manner that requires your immediate attention the moment your eyes land on the screen and witness what is going on. There, you see a woman kneeling in front of the guy that's filming her, a close-up to her face as she begins sucking the guy's dick...she looks exactly like you.

You were kinda shocked to see just how similar this person is to you. Same hair color, same eye color, same nose...even the same pair of glasses you wear. Could this be...? No way. Is...Eddie watching a porn film with an actress that looks just like you?

Fuck.

You were unsure if you wanted to watch the rest or not. Has he watched it more than once or was this the first time he's seen it? It was already halfway in so most definitely he has seen enough. Doesn't he realize how similar you and the actress are? Or did he get this film because you and the actress are very similar?

After hearing the woman moaning around the guy's dick for another few seconds, you finally decided to pause the video and turn off the TV as if nothing happened, going back to the bed and deciding to stay there. Maybe it's better if you don't touch anything else.

When Eddie got back, you were staring at the ceiling while laying on your back. He smiled your way, taking his jacket off and putting the money he got for the drugs in a safe place.

"You've been there the whole time doing nothing?" he asks jokingly, his back facing you while he counts a few dollars before closing the little box where he kept his money.

"Mostly," was your reply, failing to hold back the smirk forming on your lips.

"What does that mean?" he insisted, finally turning to look at you. The look on his face let you know he has absolutely no idea where this is going.

You were quiet for a few seconds before turning to point at the TV. "I tried watching cartoons..."

When your attention was back on Eddie, he looked absolutely mortified. His cheeks were red and he looked panicked, opening his mouth to say something but closing it when he realized he couldn't find something to say.

"Those weren't cartoons..." you teased him even further.

"You– I...How much did you watch?" he asked, walking towards the TV and staring at it, knowing there's nothing he can do now to prevent you from watching that movie.

"Not much," you replied, shrugging despite him once again not looking at you. "But it was interesting..."

"What? Why?" he blurts out nervously, turning to face you. "What's interesting?"

You can tell Eddie is mortified. His cheeks are still burning red and he's frantically moving his arms around when he speaks. He only gestures this much when he's nervous.

"Actually, I don't think I want to know," he added right after.

"It's a good thing...I think."

He somehow looks even more frustrated. You didn’t think that was possible. "You think?"

"Depends on what your answer is."

That comment certainly made Eddie more interested, stopping to protest about how uncomfortable he was to really think about what could happen next. If you say it depends on his answer...

"What is it?" he eventually asks.

Him being cooperative made you smile, sitting up on the bed, legs crossed and hands resting against the mattress at each side of you. "If I tell you the question, you must answer. And no lies!"

"Sure, okay," he dismisses it, curious to know what you had in mind.

You doubted yourself for a second before finally asking the one question that kept playing over and over in your head since you saw that movie. "The woman in that film...does she happen to look like me or was that the idea?"

Eddie scoffed, immediately shaking his head. "Nope! Nope! Not answering that!"

"You said–!"

"I didn't know that was the question!"

"Well...your reaction kind of answers it perfectly, anyway," you commented.

He looks ever more defeated, too self-aware to try to come on top in this situation, knowing he couldn't save himself. He was watching a porn film with an actress that looks exactly like you and you noticed. You know he jerks off watching someone that resembles you getting fucked over and over again, wishing that was actually you being completely wrecked by him.

There's no way he's winning this one.

"Why are you doing this?" he gave up, taking a seat at the very edge of his bed. "It's enough knowing you watched the damn thing, I don't need you teasing me about it."

"I'm not teasing you, Eds," was your reply, crawling to where he was. "Well, I was. But not in a bad way..."

Eddie leans back just slightly when he notices the way you crawl on top of him, sitting on his lap with one leg at each side of his body. A hand rests at the back of his neck, the other carefully traces up and down his sleeveless t-shirt.

His hands instinctively rest at each of your thighs as he watches you. The gesture makes you smile, leaning closer to him. His breath catches in his throat when he feels you moving on top of him, knowing you did that on purpose. The feeling of your pants rubbing against his black jeans wasn't nearly enough to help you ease the growing ache in between your thighs, but at least it was something.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually flattered."

"You...you are?" he asks in disbelief.

You nod, the smile never fading as you move slightly closer, your face too close to his. He immediately wraps an arm around your lower back hoping that would make you stay right there, your noses practically touching at that point.

"Yeah. I mean, why wouldn't I like knowing you touch yourself thinking about me?" you asked innocently. "Because that's what you do, right?"

"Yeah...All the time," he was barely able to say, too focused on the fact that you were straddling him, your hips once again moving just enough to tease him. And you made sure to look at him as if you had no idea what your movements on top of him were doing to his body and mind. Like this wasn't driving him insane.

"Say it for me, please."

Eddie practically moans at your request. "I jerk off thinking about you."

"Yeah? And you think about all the stuff you could be doing to me if I was there with you?"

He nods after your question, silently begging for you to lean down and kiss him at this point. Or for you to start moving your hips faster. Or both. Both would be great, but either would be enough for now.

"Would you like to show me, Eddie?" you ask again, eager for this to escalate already.

"Can I show you?" he practically repeats, unable to still fully comprehend how did he managed to be in this situation with you on top of him, asking if he can fuck you like the many times he had fantasized about it. It's too good to be true.

"I'd love that," you reply, as if the fact that you started rocking your hips faster wasn't enough of an answer.

Just right after you said those words, you lean down and finally crash your lips against his. The second you're kissing him, Eddie loses all self control he had left, immediately starting to kiss you back as his hands gently grab your ass, forcing you to speed up your movements on top of him.

The kiss deepens, your tongue meeting his as the two of you continue to make out. You could feel his pants becoming tighter underneath you, letting you know how much Eddie was enjoying this.

You eventually move back from the kiss and, much to Eddie's discomfort, you get back on your feet and take a few steps back from the bed. Just before Eddie could protest about you being so far away from him, he stays quiet when he notices your hands grabbing the end of your shirt, pulling it over your shoulders and off your body.

It made you feel exposed, but you can't deny how much you enjoy having his attention. To know his eyes are scanning your body and the more he does the more turned on he gets. To watch him having to fix the fit of his jeans because it was almost impossible to keep them on with the boner he currently has. And you're the one to blame for that.

He watches as you reach to your back, getting rid of your bra too. The item of clothing fell to the floor at your feet but Eddie couldn't care any less about that, as he was way too focused on your now exposed chest.

Eddie was standing in front of you in no time, taking his shirt off and throwing it somewhere before capturing your lips again in a heated kiss while his hands cupped your tits. They were cold, making you hiss against the touch, but somehow it made it that much enjoyable.

Moans would leave your mouth anytime Eddie would pinch one of your nipples, gently twisting them with his fingers before massaging your tits however he wanted. Your sounds were muffled almost entirely against Eddie's lips.

You only broke the kiss so you could look at him, not wanting to miss his reaction the moment you got on your knees in front of him, your fingers tracing down his body until meeting his belt. Eddie's eyes got darker in anticipation, his mouth slightly agape as his breaths became heavier, watching you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before sliding them down his legs.

His underwear was still in the way, his erection more evident than ever now. He breathes out slowly the second he feels your hand palming him. The reaction makes you smirk, slowly tracing your fingers up to his hips, grabbing his underwear in an even slower gesture just to tease him a little bit more. You can tell Eddie is frustrated, his hips involuntarily rocking closer to you and his body tensing just enough.

But you finally decide to show him mercy, sliding his underwear down to expose his already fully-erect cock. You bit your lip at the image in front of you, once again looking up at Eddie with a smirk. The way you just looked at him nearly drove him insane, grabbing a fistful of your hair to guide you closer to him.

You gladly take him inside your mouth, all at once first before focusing exclusively on his tip, only to fill your mouth with every inch of him that could fit one more time, repeating the process. And you didn't care about being too messy or too loud, which encouraged Eddie to rock his hips faster. That, and the fact that you kept looking up at him through your glasses with a doe-eyed look while continuing to take him inside your mouth.

"Fuck, baby..." he grunts, gripping your hair tighter. "Your mouth feels so good...look so pretty like that with my dick down your throat."

You moan around him, loving to be praised like that for what you were doing. One of your hands travels under your sweatpants and panties, your fingers starting to rub hurried circles on your clit.

Eddie noticed the gesture. "Touching yourself while you suck me off, hmm? Can't wait to play with that pretty pussy of yours."

He continued to thrust in and out of your mouth, you meeting his movements halfway by bobbing your head. At the speed you two were going, the scene got messier and much louder, his dick coated with your saliva.

You knew Eddie was getting closer and closer, his moans increasing and his eyebrows furrowing closer together with each series of thrusts.

Eventually, you took him out of your mouth to start pumping him, wanting him to cum all over your face. It didn't take long for Eddie to do exactly that, his cum falling predominantly inside your mouth and over your glasses.

"You're beautiful," Eddie compliments you, the image of you still on your knees with his cum all over your face being his new favorite things in the entire world.

He watches you swallow what fell inside your mouth, using your fingers to clean around your chin before he walked over to his dresser to grab a few tissues so you could clean yourself. You take a few tissues for your face before removing your glasses, trying your best to clean them as much as possible before rubbing the glasses against the fabric of your sweatpants in an effort to clean them even further, making the stains disappear much better.

When you get on your feet and put your glasses on again, Eddie grabs your face with both of his hands and pulls you in for a heated, passionate kiss. Your tongues meet almost instantly and you moan into his mouth when his hands leave your face to grab your ass instead, squeezing the flesh there.

"I really made a mess on you, huh?" he mutters after pulling away from you, looking down to see a few ropes of cum still dripping down your chest. Just when you were about to move back to clean properly, he grabs both of your arms to stop you from walking away. "It's okay, I can clean it for you."

You lean your head back when you feel his tongue tracing its way across your body, making sure to clean everything off you. When he was done, you were quick to pull him in for yet another kiss, appreciative of him for helping.

Eddie guides you to the edge of his bed and you only move back from the kiss to lay down, gladly accepting his kiss again when he's positioned on top of you. His hands immediately start pulling your sweatpants down your legs and you allow him, lifting your hips from the mattress so he can easily get rid of them.

You're forced to move away from his lips when you feel his fingers touching you, his hand making its way inside your panties and his fingers already in contact with your clit. He rubs his fingers in slow circles, his head moving to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

"So wet for me already," he whispers. "Should we get rid of your panties?"

"Yeah," you reply, nodding eagerly. Eddie starts kissing your neck while his hands take care of removing your underwear. You feel him smile against your skin when you spread your legs wider for him, needing to feel his touch again.

Two of his fingers trace down your pussy until they reach your hole, slowly entering you as you let out a moan at the sensation. He pulls them out of you only to thrust inside of you again, this time faster, curling his fingers inside you.

He moves back from your neck so he can look at you, watching your face while he continues to finger you, smirking every time he would curl his fingers because he knows how much you enjoy the feeling just by the way you react whenever he does it. Your breathing would become heavier, your mouth would open wider, your hips would rock slightly faster.

"You like that?" he asks. "Tell me how good it feels."

"It feels so good, Eddie," you whimper, needing him to move faster already. You grab the back of his neck to pull him closer to your face again. "Faster," you whisper, your lips practically touching his. He increased the speed like you requested. "Shit, like that...keep doing that."

"Is this better for you?" he insisted, wanting to hear you express what he's making you feel as much as he possibly could.

"Yes."

"Are you gonna cum all over my fingers?"

You really tried not to lean your head back into the pillow, enjoying your face so close to his as he continues to say all these things to you. "Uh-huh."

He continued to make out with you right after that, fingering you impossibly faster now. The muffled sound of your moans encouraged him to keep that pace, knowing that meant you'll soon reach your orgasm.

You can feel him rocking his hips against one side of your body, already getting hard again with the sensation of his fingers moving in and out of you, your pussy just so wet all around him.

Eddie uses his thumb to take care of your aching clit while his fingers repeatedly curl inside you, making you grind your hips against him desperately. He moves back, admiring your face as you get closer and closer. "Want to hear your pretty sounds," was his explanation as to why he would stop kissing you.

He once again focused on your neck, his mouth sucking on the skin there. You knew that would leave a mark, but that didn't bother you in the slightest. The idea of Eddie branding you, claiming your body like that, only contributed to the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

And he made sure to leave not just one hickey, but several. He would occasionally bite down on your neck, adoring to feel the way your grip on his bicep would tighten, nails digging on his skin and your back arching in response while your pussy clenched around his fingers. Your other hand was gripping the sheets underneath you, desperately wanting to hold onto anything because you were just too close, your body needing to brace itself for it.

You lose it when you feel his teeth biting your earlobe, letting out the loudest moan yet when you reach your orgasm. Eddie moves back again, not wanting to miss the show. The sight of you whimpering, still rocking your hips against his fingers, looking so needy and vulnerable for him. And he couldn't get enough of the look in your eyes when you stare back at him, knowing he did a great job just by the expression on your face.

Your hand reaches down to grab his wrist, silently pleading him to keep his movements as slow and gentle as possible, still sensitive from the feeling of your orgasm. He understands, his fingers carefully moving in and out of you one last time before moving his hand away.

Eddie looks at you with a grin, his fingers absolutely soaked with your juices. He didn't think twice before cleaning them off with his mouth, which has to be the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Right after, both of his arms are at each side of your head and he's leaning down to capture your lips in a very heated kiss, tongues meeting and teeth occasionally crashing as you both hungrily devour each other's mouths. You can feel him rubbing himself against your stomach, and you whimper at the feeling because you need to feel him somewhere else.

He only pulls away from you to reach for a condom from his nightstand. You sit on the bed, moving your hips further up to give him space to put the condom on before continuing what you were just about to do.

A smile appears on your face when you see he's done, chuckling when he grabs your hips and pulls you back down, your back pressed against the mattress as you return to your previous position. He was so eager for you and you can just tell by the way he's looking at you.

Eddie kisses you again, holding his weight with one arm while the other explores your body, fingers tracing down your hip to your thigh, grabbing your leg to put it over his shoulder. The position stretches you out even further, moaning in anticipation because you can feel how exposed you are for him.

One of your hands holds onto his bicep the second Eddie starts entering you. "Fuck," you let out in pure ecstasy, already wanting to have him buried deep within you.

You moan again when his skin touches yours, indicating he's fully inside you. When he pulls out, your available leg practically forces him back in by wrapping around him, which definitely took Eddie by surprise judging by the grunt that just escaped his lips.

"So needy of my cock, huh?" he teased. "It's okay, baby. I'll give you exactly what you need."

"Please, Eddie..." you moan, enjoying the fact that his thrusts increased. You were so wet, it was so easy for him to go in and out of you.

He continued to fuck you, the chain hanging from his neck tickling your own while his thrusts continued. Your leg hanging from his shoulder helps to make you feel him deeper than ever, making the experience that much better. He's reached places inside you you're pretty sure no one else has. Ever. And you wouldn't want any other person this seeded in you that isn't Eddie.

Only he can have you like this, a moaning and sweaty mess because he doesn't look like wanting to slow down his movements. He's the only one that would ever make you feel like this. No one can fuck you like he can, and you hope this isnt't the first and only time you get to have him inside you.

Your glasses were starting to fog because your face was buried in his neck while he continued to thrust in and out, forcing you to move your head to the side to avoid them making it impossible to see a thing. That gave him the perfect opportunity to begin kissing your jaw.

"I'm gonna cum," you announced, knowing that you wouldn't last when he's repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside you, your nails digging harder on his arm.

"I'm right behind you," he replies, his lips barely breaking contact with your skin as he speaks. "Cum for me, baby. I want to feel your pussy clenching around me."

"Keep talking like that..." you were barely able to say, feeling you could come any second.

"I need to feel you squeezing my dick when you cum all over me. Make sure to say my name, too. I bet it sounds so pretty when you're screaming it for me while I keep fucking you nice and hard."

"Oh, fuck...Eddie!" you practically gasp, holding onto him as you reach your orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you completely lose yourself in it, enjoying every second of your release.

"That's it," he encourages, smiling down at you. "So fucking tight around me..."

"Please, give it to me, Eds," you're barely able to plead, still trying to ride down your recent orgasm. "I've been good for you, I need...please, I deserve it. Please."

"You've been so good," he agrees, practically hoping that would be enough hint that he also wants you to keep talking.

"I have. I've taken your cock so well, Eddie...don't you think your good girl deserves to feel you cum?"

"Fuck, you do. You deserve...you deserve it all, baby. "

You whimper underneath him, knowing he was so close already. You just needed to give him one last encouragement for him to lose it entirely. And you knew exactly what you needed to say to get him to break right there.

"Please, daddy. I need to feel you cum."

It was like a secret code only you knew the correct answer to. Or like a complicated riddle only you had the answer to. Because as soon as those words left your mouth, Eddie was rapidly reaching his own orgasm.

A few occasional profanities left his lips as he came down from it all, his hands still worshiping your body as he gave his final thrusts before finally pulling away from you.

He got rid of the used condom while you got under the covers of his bed, not minding to get dressed just yet. You could do that later. Right now you just wanted to rest in his bed.

Eddie got back and joined you underneath the covers. You were gladly surprised when he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a quick kiss on the top of your head. He didn't bother to put any clothes on either.

"So, was that better than your movie?" you asked jokingly, obviously knowing the answer.

"Much better," he replied instantly, which inevitably made you chuckle. "Don't think I'll need to watch that anymore if I can fuck you like this whenever I want."

"Yeah, you can forget all about that stupid film," you agreed, already waiting for the next time you get to have Eddie all to yourself like this again.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine

[whole-circus]

Creepypastas and small things they would do for you when you depressed!

➥ Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Ben Drowned, "Ticci" Toby Hi, please dont be scared to get help if you feel like you need it - obvious thing but your feelings valid and you matter so much! And my DMs are always open! >:)

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

☆ Jeff the Killer

Okay, Jeff isn't the best when it comes to comforting people, even if he really cares about them. He feels lost and has no idea what to do, but seeing you all miserable makes his heart break. Thats why I think he would do small acts of service. Don't expect a lot from him - he loves you, but he really is so awkward.. Thats why he brings you meals (he can't cook for shit), open the window in your room and let some air to it, he even clean around! Jeff also loves to spoil you! He know that he isn't the most affectionate, so he gives you a lot of small gifts! Maybe nice looking rocks, flowers, jewlery stolen from his victims....all romantic! Also things that reminds you of him! The one based on your personality, likes and stuf!! And dont even try to say that you dont deserve all that.. because deep down you mean everything to Jeff! Come on, there is a reason why he keept you alive, huh?

☆ Homicidal Liu

Absolute sweetheart when it comes to comforting you! You had a rough, long day? Even worse than normally? He is right here with you, doing his best. You just wanna seat in silence? Too tired to talk? Liu will be here. No sign of judgement on his face, just his typical soft and full of compasion smile. If you feel okay with him touching you, he would hold your hand or offer you a hug. No worries, you can stay in his soft embrace as long as you need it - its just you both agaist the world. He just want to make sure that you know he is here for you. Liu would talk about all things you are worried, trying to find solution if its possible, but he is also not too pushy when it comes to that. And no matter how you feel now, or if you will yell and cry, pushing him away - he is always here to got your back.

☆ Eyeless Jack

Jack is just another person with this comforting aura. At the end of hard day, you can't help but want cuddle to him and sob into his arms..And Jack is a great listener, always wanting to make you feel that your suffer is visible and heard! Thats why he is the best person to come vent to, or maybe just stay in his presence if you are too tired to talk! He doesn't talk too much, but he can if you want. Always ready to say something to cheer you up, and he doesn't make this stupid comments like "you dont look depressed" or "yeah same lol"! You are his everything and if you need a bit of help? Thats what relationship is all about, he doesnt mind at all! Just cuddle to him, tell him every thought of yours while he caress your head and gently rock back and forth!

☆ Masky

If Masky really does care about you (no worries, he does) he will be great when it comes to taking care about your body. Depression suck and we all know that well. Sometimes it takes away all of your energy and motivation, and its harder to take care of yourself. Thats why you have him! Masky would look after you a lot! He would check if you had eaten - you haven't? He will make you anything to eat, even for you to take small bite becasue you dont have appetite! Have problem with keeping yourself clean? Would help you shower or just clan with wet tissues, brush your teeth and wash your hair. And if your room gets too messy? Has no problem with helping you or just cleaning it by himself. He also keeps an eye on your sleep schedule! Masky doesn't judge - he knows how hard you already have it, and he just want to help. And needing help doesn't make you weak!

☆ Ben Drowned

Listen, Ben is such a dummy and cutie..he would try to make you laugh so bad..! He isnt doing it in this insistent, annoying way - he just do everything he can to make you smile! Cracking more jokes than usually, doing silly faces or you two could watch some silly video with cats/dogs...doesnt matter, he just try so much! He is also good person to stay in home with. He totally gets if you dont feel like socializing and going out, he already made you both a place so you could either play with him or just watch him play. Doesnt matter if you wanna talk, or if small-talk makes you annoyed and you just prefer to seat in silence. Big cuddle bug, so if that makes you feel better then he couldnt ask for more! Ben literally wants to make you feel even slightly better, but he also understand what you are going through and will always be by your side!

☆ "Ticci" Toby

As I said many many times, Toby is curious one - always ready to explore and do some fun stuff. And that makes him the perfect guy to make your days a bit brighter! Toby wants to be here for you, trying his best to get you out of bed and try new hobbies with you. When you are depressed its so easy to get into a routine, and just suffer from sadness and bad thoughts, laying in bed all day and starring at ceiling! And Toby doesn't want that silly! So no matter what is it- baking, cocking, some sport or artsy stuff - he loves that! But no worries, if you dont have that much energy, he will gladly stay with you in home, cuddling and watching movies. Its hard to be bored around him, he has some calming aura around. He understands that he won't make your deprresion dissapear, but Toby wants to make your days even a bit better.

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

#slasher #slasher x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeffrey woods #homicidal liu #homicidal liu x reader #jeffery woods #liu woods #horror #headcanon #tim wright #tim wright x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #ticci toby #masky x reader #marbel hornets #comfort #crp #fandom #creepypasta fandom #wholecircus

[bitchesgetriches]

Bitches I need some advice.

I'm fat, okay? I'm not ashamed about it. It just... Is. I'm fat.

Being fat is also fucking me up. It's causing me sleep problems, it's fucking my joints, I can't walk as far as I used to, I haven't run in years.

I want to lose weight. Not for anyone else. For me. I want to be fit again.

I'm surrounded by people telling me I'm "not fat" and need to "love myself like I am". I'm 210lb and 5'3". Ya girl is fat. And I'm okay with that it's not a bad word. I love myself. But I also love the things I used to be able to do when I was fitter. It's just really fucking hard.

I've got zero support left and right. And I don't know what to do. I know this isn't your area of expertise, but you're such great internet mamas that maybe you can help.

My darling child, we are SO humbled that you came to us with this. And while this isn't an area of our OFFICIAL expertise... weight and athleticism is something that I, Piggy, personally think a lot about! So let me see if I can offer some support to you, my beloved fat child.

By way of background: I have never been fat. Heavier than I want currently, but not fat. So I don't completely understand what you're going through. I have always been an athlete of one sort or the other. But more than that, I have always had the privilege of being relatively skinny without trying. At peak fitness I was running and rock climbing and doing all the stretchy and weight-trainy stuff. I was 5'5" and 130 lbs of jacked Bitch.

I am also a proud Italian American woman, which means that after 30 genetics decreed that I start putting on weight and rounding out and coming into my full Zia-ness. I'm currently 155 lbs. and running/climbing/stretching/jumping about/weight training is getting harder and harder. And that's frustrating to me.

Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. So I'mma use it just as you have! I'm proud that you are prioritizing your health and ability to do what you love over losing weight for the sake of just being smaller. Because let's be clear: weight and health do not necessarily go hand in hand. If your goal is to improve your sleep quality, energy levels, and joint pain, then you should focus on activities that will work directly on those issues. Maybe that'll lead to weight loss--maybe not!

A lot of the medical establishment is cruel to fat people, so I'd be cautious about approaching this with your doctor. But you SHOULD get medical guidance before embarking on any kind of physical change. If your doctor says "Well, just lose weight through diet and exercise!" then you might want to look for a new doctor. If they instead offer practical solutions for incremental improvement, then great.

One of my favorite athletes is The Mirnavator. She's a fat marathon runner and offers a lot of information on how to start walking more and running as a fat person. I think she'll be a good role model for you as she focuses a lot on energy and joint health.

Also, you should check out Aubrey Gordon's blog Your Fat Friend and her podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase. She's also got some great books out! She's a fat expert on weight loss and diet culture. And her insights into healthy nutrition and body image are amazing. Her data-based approach will help you avoid the extreme dieting and weight loss trends that can hurt your health. Plus she's funny as fuck.

Lastly I will just say that mental health is tied to physical health. You're bummed about not doing the things you use to be able to do... and that probably makes it a lot harder to change! Acknowledge any depression or anxiety you feel about being fat and give yourself compassion. Start small and do what feels good.

Now here are two VERY old articles I wrote when I knew less about fatness. I think they still have a little bit to offer, though:

Why You Probably Don't Need That Gym Membership

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money 

Any fat members of Bitch Nation who want to weigh in? Uh... pun not intended.

#tw: weight loss #tw: fat #tw: dieting #just adding trigger warnings because I know any discussion of fatness and weight loss can be really triggering to some folks #be well my darlings

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! If I’ve understood correctly your requests are open. I would like to request the demon brothers from Obey Me! with a reader that just bites *everything*. Gentle love bites when happy, chomping in the air torwards a person in a ‘threatening’ manner if angry or upset, chewing random things when bored or stressed and so on. Thank you for reading this and have a great day and or night!^^

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Yep yep, requests are always open so dw! I gotta say this whole rq is a big mood bcs when I was kid I always bit my friends, idk why tho lol. Oh and sorry for the little delay, hope you like this and have a good day / night as well!!! 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, can be seen as platonic or romantic.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Devildom was completely strange, but Lucifer was used to its strangeness. What he wasn't used to was your peculiar habit of biting anything. If you were happy you bit him, if you were sad you threatened to bite him, chomping the air towards him. One way or another he got bitten and Lucifer, well, how could he stop you when you were so cute? He loves your little bites, he loves how you look so proud when you got to bite him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lucifer finds your behavior irritating when you two first meet. But as time passes and you get closer, he starts secretly hoping for more of your little bites and becomes incredibly frustrated if you don't bite him. However he will never admit this or the fact that he feels jealous if you bite one of his brothers instead of him. You should bite only him, little darling human. If you don't bite him then he's gonna bite you, harder.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He does give you a little chew toy so you don't get anxious when you can't bite him or the others, though.

⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ While Lucifer doesn't care about your habit, Mammon feels he needs to be on constant vigilance to avoid being bitten. Or that's what he says to himself, because he's the easiest of the brothers to bite, so carefree, so funny when he gets scared and screams.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The avatar of greed remembers when you first bit him. The soft smile that dominated your face as you approached him - he should have known something was about to happen, but how was he supposed to know? He didn't know you were actually going to bite him, he totally didn't expect a kiss from you only to receive a painful bite on the neck. But he can't stay angry, Mammon sincerely loves your little habit, this is how you seem to show your affection to him and absolutely loves it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And if you ever left marks on him, he would wear them with honor no matter who saw them, you are his and he is yours.

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Levi is naturally more reserved and fearful, if you bite him he will get scared and hide in his room. He knows, after observing your habits for a bit, that it's something you do because you feel comfortable and express yourself that way, also because you really like to bite everything. So far he saw you bite into a pillow, your plate, Mammon's belly and you always seem to have fun.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But he turns into an anxious mess every time you bite him or threaten him, chomping the air and making sounds with your mouth, when he is caught off guard by you and your sudden bites.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The solution he found so he doesn't get scared and you don't get frustrated is to give you a chew toy to use every time you spend time with him. If you still want to bite him just let him know beforehand. He doesn't mind, your bite doesn't hurt, in fact it's kind of cute watching you bite his hand and arm, he blushes every time you do it.

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Satan likes his personal space and having you invade it can be annoying, but more times than not he allows you to gently bite him, seeing your smile causes strange feelings in him. Plus, you remind him of a playful little kitten and he loves it, headpetting you while he reads to you and receive your littles bites. By the way I can see him buying cat ears and forcing asking very nicely for you to wear them when you spend time together.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Would encourage you to bite his brothers (mainly Lucifer) when all of you are in public, and later on he would shield you from any punishment that may come from his father older brother.

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Asmo, well... Asmo prefers to receive other types of bites. Ones that last longer and stain his skin, if you know what I mean. But that's just what he prefers, Asmo naturally encourages his habit. He loves the attention he gets and you love having someone to bite, win-win!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ I feel like he has several photos of you biting him compiled in a secret folder seen only by his eyes. Some of them he posts on Devilgram and laughs at the jealous comments of his followers who wanted to be you, others he shows to his brothers. After all, there are seven of them but he is the one you chose, that must mean something <3.

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Beelzebub finds your habit a little strange and he thinks if every human is like that, but he doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he encourages you to bite him whenever you are happy or as an agreement, every now and then he challenges you to see who bites the most, however, Beel never bites you hard enough to break skin.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He wants to make you laugh, not hurt you and he knows he could very well take your head off with the strength of his jaw. But he won't. He loves you too much for that, but the threat is implicit and you know that if one day you try to run away from him and his family or something, he could very well bite you and tear your body apart.

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Belphegor finds your habit funny, just as someone finds a puppy learning to walk or bark funny. More times than he should, Belphie finds himself imitating your mannerisms, biting the air when he's frustrated or biting whatever is in his reach while he sleeps. He can't help but imitate you since he feels it makes you two closer, specially after what happened.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The other brothers may like this and think it's cute, but it's Belphie who really feels his heart stop every time your teeth close over his arm, his neck, or even his cheek. Pink rises to his face and he pulls you closer, letting you bite him all over while he does the same to you.

#obey me #yandere obey me #lucifer x mc #yandere lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #yandere mammon x reader #levi x mc #yandere levi x reader #satan x mc #yandere satan x reader #asmo x mc #yandere asmo x mc #beel x mc #yandere beelzebub x reader #belphie x mc #yandere belphegor x reader #tw yandere