#like this is probably their idea of a date

[corrodedheartsclub]

I’m Dumb She’s a Lesbian

Steddie. Modern au. Getting together. Platonic Stobin. 1685 words.

Steve’s used to people mistaking him and Robin as a couple. Unfortunately, he’s not used to Eddie’s form of problem solving.

After trying to explain to Eddie, without success, that him and Robin are purely platonic, he mistakenly admits that he did have a crush on her briefly, but once he knew it was never going to happen, they’ve become best friend. Platonic soulmates even.

“It’s honestly so for the best, Eddie. We weren’t meant to be a couple. We’re like cosmically linked on a whole other level.” Ok, Steve might be a little high, but he really believe him and Robin are meant to be in the most platonic way possible. He’s laying on Eddie’s bed, the joint their sharing nearly gone, and he can’t help the goofy smile that splits across his face. “Eddie, you know… I actually-”

“You guys are perfect together though! You’re always together, laughing and leaning on each other. How could there be no chance?” Eddie laments.

Steve shakes his head and groans, turning his face into the sheet. Eddie was hopeless.

“You’ve just gotta find the right timing.” Eddie doesn’t understand a world where anyone would shoot down this newly evolved Harrington. He’s perfect, and if Eddie can’t have him, he’ll make it his personal mission to get Steve and Robin together.

Steve’s watching him, wondering what the heck is going on in that head of his. Eddie was a mystery to him.

-

Kicking off his plan, Eddie starts by asking them to go to the movies, only to bail at the last minute. “I completely forgot I promised Wayne I’d help him work on the truck. I’m the worst, but no you guys should still go! Enjoy the movie!” He urges them on.

They sit through a cheesy romcom, and by five minutes in, they’re both questioning Eddie’s choice in movies. Never mind that Steve did end up really like it.

“That was weird, right?” Robin questions as they leave the theater.

“Which part?” Steve was finishing the last of his candy by turning over the box. He looks over at her, a mouthful of sour gummy worms.

Robin laughs, “You look like a creature.”

Steve crosses his eyes and laughs.

She’s shaking her head. “Eddie. He’s being weird. Did you notice anything last night when you guys were hanging out?”

“Mostly that he’s gorgeous and still completely oblivious every time I try to tell him how I feel,” Steve grumbles. “Plus, he’s so convinced we should be dating.”

“We? Like, you and I?” Robin mock gags, but then she jumps and smacks Steve’s arm. “That’s it!”

“Ow what the fuck, Buckley? What’s it?”

“He’s trying to parent trap us!”

Steve looks skeptical, but he starts connecting the dots in his head. He gaps. “Oh fuck.”

“Ok, we’ve just gotta sit him down and tell him we’re not together.”

“You could just tell him you’re gay and have a girlfriend. That would probably kill this idea that we belong together. I mean, he’s gay, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him?” Steve suggests.

“I’m just not ready to scream it from the rooftops. Plus, Vickie’s in the closet too, and I don’t want our time together being put under a microscope and risk outing her before she’s ready. I know I can trust Eddie to be supportive, but he’s so loud and proud and though I love that about him, I worry he’d let it slip on accident.”

Steve understands. Eddie is bold and outgoing, and it’s all wonderful. It’s just not what Robin needs right now. He agrees they just need to sit him down and set the record straight.

-

Steve leans against the counter at Family Video. The day’s been painfully slow so far, and he finds himself slow-blinking at the door, dozing off against his better judgment.

The door chimes and shocks him awake. He’s greeted by Dustin dumping a pile of returns in front of him. “Good morning,” he teases.

He rolls his eyes and groans at him. “You watch too many movies.” He yawns through Dustin’s offended scoff.

“Did you just go to the movies last night? Hypocrite!” Dustin defends.

Steve shoots him a look. “How do you know that? Stalking me, kid?”

“I was picking up character sheets from Eddie. He had some extras and I’m prepping for our next campaign. He said you and Robin were out watching a romcom. Are you guys finally dating?”

Steve lets out a small chuckle. “Ah, the man of the hour. No, we’re not dating, and we’ll never be dating. Eddie’s just trying to make something happen. Nosy little shits, the lot of you.”

Dustin looks skeptical. “Why would Eddie want you and Robin together? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re the one that just asked if we’re finally dating, and now you’re flipping the script. Who’s the hypocrite now?” Steve is scanning in the movies and shaking his head.

“I just mean that Eddie wouldn’t want you guys together because he’s totally into you,” Dustin says it like an obvious fact. “He’s always so whiny about it.”

Steve freezes. “What?”

The kid’s eyes widen as he realizes his overstep. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Steve’s already reaching for the phone. He punches in Robin’s number and points at Dustin while it rings. “You shouldn’t have. We’re going to talk later about not blabbing other people’s secrets. For now- scram.”

Dustin has the hindsight to look remorseful.

Robin answers with a theatric sigh. “Are you so hopeless without me that you must call on my day off?”

“Change of plans. I’m going to catch Eddie in his own trap, and you’re going to help.”

-

It’s all going according to plan. Steve and Robin find that it’s pretty easy to give Eddie the slip on his attempts.

Eddie tries to get Robin and Steve on a romantic date? Oh no, Robin’s got a family emergency. Eddie, you should stay so Steve isn’t all alone.

Lined up for Robin and Steve have to ride the ferris wheel together? Whoops, Robin remembers she’s afraid of heights at the front of the line, quick Eddie switch with her so Steve didn’t wait in this line for nothing.

Eddie sent flowers to Robin at family video with a card that says from Steve. Shame that the order got mixed up, and they went to Steve instead. Oh, but look how Steve blushes at the delivery.

The duo is feeling pretty good about their plan, but Eddie is losing his mind. Instead of fixing his crush, he’s fallen harder than ever. Every time he thinks he’s set the perfect trap, it twists around, and he finds himself spending more time with Steve. He’s not complaining necessarily. Any time alone with Steve makes his heart pound in his chest, but if he can’t have this perfect guy, he’s set on getting him the girl of his dreams.

Alternatively, Robin is starting to find it more and more difficult to explain to Vickie why she’s playing a game of set-up chicken with her friends.

Robin decides it’s time to end Eddie’s misery.

Her and Steve plan an elaborate picnic out at skull rock. There’s a big blanket, tons of pillows, and the most classic picnic basket you’ve ever seen.

Steve is pacing at the tree line. He needs this to go well. His crush had settled deep in his chest, and Steve was sure it was love. He didn’t want to play games with Eddie. It was time for everyone to clear the air and be direct with their feelings, but he couldn’t help the nerves that made him question everything. What if Eddie didn’t like him? Maybe he really did think Steve and Robin belonged together.

He tries to clear his mind. Robin was telling Eddie to come meet him here right about now. He should be here soon. Steve fiddles with his hair, trying to quell the anxiety.

When Eddie finally makes his way through the woods, Steve isn’t sure how to greet him.

Eddie’s surprised at the setup, and he immediately tries to rationalize it before Steve can get a word out. “Did you mean for me to come here? Buckley said you were looking for me, but I can go get her? Or do you need help setting up… I’m not sure you can do much else. It looks perfect.”

Steve is dumbfounded at Eddie’s ability to completely misread his intent, once again.

“No, Eddie, I meant for you to be here. This is for you.” He tries to speak clearly, leaving no room for confusion.

Eddie looks utterly confused. “For me?”

Steve can’t help his fond smile. “Yes, dummy. You. If you can stop trying to set me up with my best friend for a minute, I’ve been trying to ask you out for a while now.”

The man is gaping at him. “No. You’re not serious.”

He groans and tosses his hands up. “Eddie, what do I have to do to convince you?” Steve stares at him for a moment before he gets a bright idea. He stands up straight, walks up to Eddie in two long strides, grabs his face, and kisses him.

Eddie lets out a surprised noise before grabbing at Steve’s arms, waist, hair, anything for purchase to pull him closer.

Steve parts, pressing their foreheads together and keeping Eddie close. Eddie whines softly before looking back at Steve, trying to understand it all.

“I just wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think- I had no idea this was an option. Even if it couldn’t be with me, I just knew you deserved all the happiness,” the words spill out as Eddie reaches up to touch Steve’s face gently, tracing along his jaw reverently.

“I’m in love with you. I tried to get the words out so many times, but I was so nervous for how you’d react.” Steve leans into the touch.

Eddie’s breath hitches. “I love you too.”

-

Later, Robin introduces Eddie to her girlfriend, and he spends the rest of the afternoon apologizing for his schemes.

[mattsundaes]

matsukawa issei x f!reader x semi eita — 18+, band au, fooling around in a hot tub, dry humping, handjob, fingering, (continued from)

“what do you think of the new song?”

matsukawa’s voice is low and smooth, and you have to lean in just a bit to hear him over the steady gurgling of the hot tub jets. his dark waves are damp from the rising steam, and the golden glow of the string lights that dot semi’s backyard reflects in his eyes as he looks at you. 

before you can fumble for an answer, semi leans his chin on your shoulder and smirks, “oh, she’s a big fan.”

you elbow him underwater, which doesn’t do you much good, considering you’re sitting in his lap. 

mattsun catches the movement, watching the two of you with open curiosity. “are you dating?” he asks curiously. 

a huff of amusement leaves semi’s lips, because he’s your best friend. and the two of you have fooled around plenty. you’ll probably sleep in his bed tonight, after all.

but semi wants you to fuck matsukawa.

he likes when he’s hanging out with seijoh and texts you some covert picture of matsukawa leaning against a wall wearing sunglasses and all black from head to toe, a cigarette hanging between his lips. and all you can reply back with is a string of unintelligible letters.

semi likes when he’s fucking you, when he asks if you touched yourself looking at the picture that he sent you, when he tells you that you’re definitely matsukawa’s type and feels you gasp and clench down on him.

“no,” semi tells him plainly, nose brushing against your cheek. “but the answer to your next question would still be yes, even if we were.”

the corner of matsukawa’s mouth twitches, and he meets your gaze. because it’s your answer he needs. “would it?”

you smile at him then. “depends on what your next question was.”

matsukawa laughs.

you’re thankful the party’s long-since died down when you find yourself in matsukawa’s lap, his mouth on yours. semi’s pressed up against your back, fingers stroking your sensitive, pebbled nipples through your swimsuit top.

you gasp against mattsun’s lips when semi pinches down, hot water splashing out over the side of the hot tub as you arch your back at the sharp sensation. matsukawa hushes you with his mouth, tongue sliding along the seam of your lips to deepen the kiss. your whine reverberates in his throat when semi undoes the knot from your top and exposes your bare, wet tits to the cool night air, fingers quick to take the place of the dripping material. 

arousal and need pulse between your thighs as you feel the outline of matsukawa’s dick pressed up against you, already growing dizzy at the promise of its length.

semi’s hand comes up to caress your jaw, his mouth ghosting matsukawa’s as he leans in to kiss you. 

“she likes it like this,” semi tells him, his hands wrapping around your waist and guiding you back and forth in the cradle of mattsun’s lap.

part of you wants to make a joke about dry humping.

about how like is a mild way to put it. about how you and semi have come in your pants more times than you can count like this on the couch. when a lazy makeout session turns into needy grinding and taking off your clothes comes secondary to the sensation of your soaking wet underwear sliding against your puffy folds while you rock over the outline of his cock—

about how there’s absolutely nothing dry about this at all right now.

but you don’t get a chance to, not when every last word dies in your throat as matsukawa splays a large palm flat against the dip of your lower back and pulls you in just as he rocks his hips upward.

“oh,” you moan, pleasure dancing white-hot over your nerves as you feel every last inch of matsukawa’s dick while he drags your cunt along the length of it.

“i like this, too,” matsukawa tells you, thumb stroking your chin as his other hand slips down into your bathing suit bottoms, long fingers cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. “but i have a better idea.”

water sloshes as he turns you around, hooking your legs around the outside of his thighs so you’re spread open wide and facing semi. 

semi wastes no time in leaning in, mouth closing over your tits before he begins to suck. his tongue is hot as it laves over your sensitive nipple, and you keen, fingers tangling in his hair. he moans when you tug on it, sucking harder, free hand grasping the erection tented heavily at the front of his swim shorts. matsukawa’s dick is thick and hard where it rests between your ass cheeks.

long digits slide over your hip and tug aside your swimsuit bottoms, just enough for a middle finger to sink into your tight hole knuckle-deep. matsukawa groans when he feels how wet you are, slick and dripping with sticky arousal even in the hot tub, cunt fluttering around his touch and not to subtly begging for more as you buck your hips into it.

a sound of amusement rumbles in his throat, and his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “how about this then?”

your fingers wrap around semi’s cock, and his forehead falls against yours as he pants into your mouth. matsukawa’s other hand strokes your sensitive nipples, thumb rolling around each of the peaked buds like he's stroking a pick over the strings of his guitar.

semi takes your bottom lip between his teeth as matsukawa’s tongue presses hotly into the tender spot behind your earlobe, as he adds a second finger and stuffs both into your aching hole to the last knuckle. 

“yes,” you tell him, voice breaking on a whine. 

a third finger slides in, this one belonging to semi, their hands joining as one while they pump in and out of your cunt. and there's something wholly filthy about this that leaves you drunk on the feeling, that has drool pooling in the back of your mouth and a heady, untamed feeling unravelling in your gut.

(that has you on the verge of begging for more.)

(and isn't that funny, how greedy you can be, even with the long, dexterous fingers of two handsome guitarists stuffed inside of you at once.)

“so pretty like this, baby,” semi murmurs against your mouth, rutting his cock into your tight fist. “so fucking pretty.”

matsukawa hums in agreement, nose brushing against your cheek. “he’s right.”

something in your chest dips and swoops, licking its way down each notch of your spine before settling hot and sticky in your belly. 

you’re wholly bucking into semi and mattsun’s thrusts now as they fuck their fingers into you, ass dragging repeatedly over mattsun’s cock while you continue to pump semi’s with just as much fervor. 

and when your orgasm hits you, it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs, pleasure cresting over your limbs in dripping, hot waves between murmurs of “that’s it” and “so goddamn pretty” and “good girl" while you moan and shake and choke out a sob.

semi follows right after, sinking somewhere between your lap and mattsun’s once his spent dick goes limp.

and for all that you’re prepared to indulge yourself in the mouth-watering urge to suck matsukawa’s cock, he doesn’t seem the least bit sorry to have come from rutting against the globes of your ass.

"the song sounds great, by the way," you eventually say while you're catching your breath. "both of you together is like a dream."

semi snorts.

mattsun raises his eyebrows. "oh?"

you drag a hand over your face, somehow embarassed even now while matsukawa's gently massaging your slick, oversensitive folds with one finger and semi's kissing your shoulder.

"singing together."

"uh huh," semi replies.

"just singing?" mattsun asks, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I have this idea bouncing around in my head where after Jason dies people come up with like shit ton of conspiracies and one of the biggest ones is that Dick had something to do with his death. Like Dick was just mysteriously gone with a flimsy alibi when everything went down. He missed the funeral. He was never adopted and was probably jealous of Jason. There’s lots of motive there.

Anyways, people start sending hate mail and death threats to Dick, because they’re convinced that he helped get Jason killed. Dick doesn’t say anything about it at first because he feels guilty about not being there for Jason, and he doesn’t want to create a huge fuss or anything. Eventually he gets used to it and forgets to bring it up to anyone. But then one day, when Jason has already been back in the fam for a few years, Dick lets it slip that he still gets hate mail for Jason’s death.

And Jason supremely loses his shit. He starts tracking these people down. Not as Red Hood, though, as buff-ghost-Jason Todd seeking revenge for people who hurt his brother. At first, Jason manages to keep it off the Batfam’s radar. But then more and more reports start popping up about Jason Todd’s hulk of a ghost beating up people who are mean to Dick. Now everyone is like “wtf??” and they’re trying to figure out if the best course of action is to announce Jason’s alive or if they keep pretending he’s dead.

Omg I could see it becoming a Gotham online conspiracy theory that doesn’t actually have all that many people who believe it, but it’s just enough who do for them to consistently harass Dick. And he’s had such a falling out with Bruce over the way everything with Jason was handled that he has no one who can help him with it, no one to turn to. Besides, maybe it was his fault. He should’ve done a better job protecting Jason. He should’ve been there. This is his penance for being a terrible brother.

Then the hallucinations start, and he has this ghostly version of his brother telling him he deserves it and his death is all his fault and he deserves every nasty word and threat that gets sent to him. And Dick believes. He believes all of it.

It doesn’t matter that Jason comes back a couple years later. It doesn’t matter that he and Jason become close again. It was still his fault. He still deserves it.

Then Jason is at Dick’s apartment one night, waiting for him to get back from patrol because he has a case he wants to discuss with him, and he stumbles across a box Dick left out. It’s overflowing with letters and flash drives, and when Jason opens it, he feels like he just opened Pandora’s Box.

Because it’s all hate mail. Death threats. Accusations. That Dick was responsible for his death. Some of them are dated back as far as the weeks following his funeral.

And Jason has since learned why Dick wasn’t at his funeral, he’s learned about the blowout fight Dick and Bruce had over it when Dick got back from space to find his little brother dead and buried.

There’s a letter at the top dated just yesterday. Dick got it in the mail today. He read it before he went on patrol.

And Jason breaks. Because his brother has been dealing with this for years, and no one ever told him. Jason has been back for years, unable to announce that he’s still alive to the general public (so Bruce says).

Jason gets together with Tim and Damian to come up with a plan. First, they scare the shit out of all these people trying to blame Dick for Jason’s death. Then they shut down all the Reddit threads and comment boards and discussion rooms on the internet that talk about it.

Then they convince Bruce to announce that Jason is still alive. They announce that the body had been difficult to identify, but it wasn’t actually Jason they found those years ago. Jason had been kidnapped and held hostage, they found him not long after he’d been pronounced dead, but they kept up the ruse because there had been death threats against him or something and it was a security thing idk.

And Jason publicly condemns everyone who ever accused his brother of killing him.

[stillalivebydemand893]

Ex's & Oh's...?

18+

One plan to ruin an ex spirals and turns into a wildfire of lust and late-night moaning.

“PLEASE, I’M GETTING ON MY FUCKING KNEES, OKAY? JUST THIS ONCE!” Erik shouted across the living room like it was a telenovela.

“FUCK OFF! I’M NOT DOING IT!” you yelled back, already halfway to chain-smoking a full pack and faking your own death. Not even Marlboros could fix the migraine you got just from existing today.

Erik looked five seconds away from spontaneous combustion. “Why not?! Jesus fucking Christ-one thing, Peach. Just one. Don’t make me bring up the Denver trip.”

You shot up off Julia’s couch like your soul had been yanked out of your spine. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE, CAMPBELL.”

You stormed toward him, eyes blazing, trying to intimidate him. He didn’t budge. Didn’t blink. Arms crossed, mouth cocked into a smirk like he was ready to end this fight with fists, fire, or a fake engagement ring.

Julia strolled down the stairs, coffee in hand, face bored. “What’s happening? It smells like unresolved sexual tension and broken dreams in here.”

“It’s just rage and bullshit,” you snapped. “Tell your brother he’s a dumbass.”

“Oh, he knows,” she chirped. “Doctors said it’s irreversible. We even tried holy water. He just got wet.”

“Why are you fighting, anyway?” she added, sipping.

“Because she can’t do one damn thing for this friendship,” Erik growled, stepping closer. “At this point, I don’t even know why we’re still friends. She’s fucking useless.”

You were toe to toe now. Close enough to feel the heat of his breath on your lips. You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him or shove your tongue down his throat. Probably both.

“Fuck you, okay?” you hissed. “Just because we’ve known each other since the fucking Black Plague doesn’t mean I’m going to help you win your ex back. Go on Tinder. Bumble. Fucking Grindr. I don’t care. Pick someone else.”

“Oooh,” Julia purred, eyes wide. “So that’s what this is. Sophia’s coming back to town and Erik’s playing ‘Get My Ex Back: The Remix.’”

You groaned. “I hate her. Last time we were in the same room, she almost bit my head off.”

“That’s because you nearly set her hair on fire,” Erik reminded.

“She wore half a can of hairspray to a Christmas party! I was lighting a candle, not plotting murder!”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, eyes wild. “She hates you. Which means she’ll do anything to get me back, just to piss you off.”

He threw his arms up like a dramatic Real Housewife.

“Oh babe…” Julia grinned like the devil. “Guess who Sophia’s dating now?”

“I don’t give a single fu-”

“Alex.”

You froze.

“My Alex?”

“Your ex Alex,” she said sweetly.

The Alex. High school heartbreak. Gaslighting king. Prince of “You’re just not popular enough,” which actually meant not hot enough. It took four months, three therapy sessions, and one egging of his house to get over him.

(Erik bought the eggs.)

“Oh. We’re doing this,” you said coldly.

“See?” Erik grabbed your shoulders, eyes blazing. “Come on, Peach. We have to do this. For honor. For vengeance. For-”

“For making Sophia combust and watching Alex implode?” you asked, all sugar and venom.

“Exactly.”

He looked too smug. And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just about Sophia. Maybe he liked the idea of calling you his. Maybe he wanted the fantasy to bleed into reality.

But he’d never say that out loud.

Julia clapped her hands like a game show host. “So, babes. What’s it gonna be?”

You grabbed Erik by the collar, yanking him so close your breath tangled. “We’re getting married,” you growled. “Mark my fucking words. Those two don’t know who they’re messing with.”

“HELL YES, baby!” Erik shouted, spinning you around like a coked-up Patrick Swayze.

Julia cackled. “I cannot wait for tonight.”

He set you down gently, hands still resting on your waist. Too warm. Too steady. Too dangerous.

You winked. “Game time, baby.”

Then stomped upstairs.

“Julia, we’ve got a makeover to do!”

“YES MA’AM!” she yelled, nearly tripping over herself to follow.

Downstairs, Erik stood alone, grinning like a man on the edge.

“God help me,” he whispered. “I’m so fucked.”

“Ready, Peach?” Erik waited downstairs.

You strutted in, wrapped in war paint and vengeance,short skirt, red-hot top, hair cascading like you just stepped out of a shampoo commercial and a bar fight.

He whistled, low and dangerous.

“Hot,” he whispered, taking your hand. Just that one word sent shivers down your spine.

“You sure? I feel kinda slutty,” you teased, fully aware it would only fuel him.

His eyes darkened. “Flaunt those lashes at me again and we’re not making it to the damn party, sweetheart.”

There was always something between you. Heat. Hunger. History. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe you were ovulating. Maybe you just wanted to climb him like a jungle gym and let him ruin your entire existence.

“Game time,” you said as you walked into the house.

It was packed. You and Erik stuck close, fingers laced, the picture of toxic bliss. And then you saw her. Blonde bitch, perfect blowout, standing next to your ex.

You stiffened. Erik’s grip tightened.

“Come on, Peach,” he murmured, dragging you toward the couch in the center of the room.

“What’s the plan, Campbell? Make out in front of everyone?” you snorted.

He pulled you onto his lap in one swift motion.

“Not my style,” he smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You were blushing like hell, unsure whether to bury yourself in his chest or crawl under the coffee table.

“Let’s make some motherfuckers jealous, baby.”

You leaned in, hand on the back of his neck. Skin on skin. Fire in your blood.

He slid his hand up your thigh. “Easy, tiger.” Then kissed your neck like he was starving. You gasped as he squeezed your thigh and bit your collarbone.

“You’re killing me,” you whispered, dizzy with lust.

“That was the plan from the start,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

You couldn’t take it. You grabbed his lower lip between your teeth and tugged.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Well, well,” Sophia appeared like the Ghost of Christmas Bitches.

“Hey, Sophia,” you said brightly, hand resting on Erik’s chest. He didn’t even look at her. Eyes locked on yours.

“So... you two finally dating? I knew you were always after him-”

Before she could finish, Erik pulled you off his lap and dragged you outside.

“Sorry, we’re leaving,” he called, not even glancing back.

“Erik, what the hell-” you started as you reached the parking lot.

Then he kissed you.

Hard.

No warning. Just mouth on mouth, heat exploding, tongues colliding in chaos.

“Peach, let’s go home,” he whispered against your lips.

“Best idea you’ve ever had,” you breathed, climbing into the passenger seat of his Dodge Charger.

The whole drive was silent-except for your gasps every time his hand inched higher on your thigh.

Julia called. You answered with your voice ragged.

“Yeah, we’re good. Just... caught a cold. See you tomorrow.” You moaned as he pressed against you.

“We’re so fucked,” Erik muttered, turning into your apartment lot.

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow.” You were already halfway out of your clothes.

The door barely shut before he slammed you against the wall, lips on your neck like you were dessert.

“Don’t tease, oh god-” you whined, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I’ve waited too long for this, Peach.” He yanked off your top, kissed you like salvation, stripped you down to bra and skirt.

You moaned, helpless under his touch.

“Me too.”

He hoisted you up, legs wrapped around his waist, carried you to the kitchen counter, the cold marble sending a shock through your burning core.

“There’s no turning back now,” you whispered.

“No turning back,” he rasped, taking off your bra as you tore off his shirt.

Mouth on mouth, chest to chest, heartbeats in sync like war drums.

His hands cupped your breasts, mouth devouring each one like they held secrets, like they were his to worship.

“Fuck, Erik-”

Your moan echoed through the kitchen like sin wrapped in velvet.

Erik's hands gripped your thighs, strong and possessive, as he lifted you just a little higher onto the edge of the counter. His mouth was back on your neck, nipping and sucking like he was trying to brand you.

"You taste better than I ever fucking imagined," he growled into your skin.

Your breath hitched, fingers dragging through his hair as he pushed between your legs, grinding into your soaked core through your underwear like it was killing him to go slow.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You could only feel.

“Erik-"

He pulled back just enough to look at you, lips parted, pupils blown, hair messy in that way that screamed you did this. His hands slipped down your back, teasing along the hem of your skirt.

“Turn around,” he said, voice low, dark, and cracked with restraint.

You obeyed, almost mindless, hands bracing against the counter as he spun you with one swift movement. His chest pressed flush to your back, and you gasped as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"I've dreamed of fucking you just like this," he whispered, every word dripping into your bloodstream like liquid fire. “Bent over, shaking, begging-”

You let out a breathless whimper, thighs clenching.

And then,you felt it. Hard. Hot. Pressed against you. But something else too.

A jolt lit your nerves on fire.

“Is that...?”

He smirked against your shoulder. “Pierced.”

You nearly lost your balance.

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” he rasped, sliding his hand between your thighs. “And it’s all for you, baby.”

Your knees buckled as he ground into you, slow and devastating, like he was showing you just a taste of what that piercing could do.

“I want to ruin you,” he growled, voice strained, hips moving in slow, torturous rolls. “Wreck you so good you forget every asshole that ever looked at you.”

You pushed back into him, desperate, feral.

"Then do it," you gasped. "Make me forget everything."

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back gently so his lips could ghost along your neck again.

“You’re mine tonight, Peach. And tomorrow... we’ll see if I give you back.”

One hand fisted in your hair, yanking it into a rough ponytail. The other slid under your skirt, slow and deliberate, fingers slipping between your thighs,right where you needed him most.

“All this wet for me, Peach?” he growled against your shoulder, his voice pure gravel and sin. “You knew I’d wreck you tonight, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched. The smirk you gave him was pure defiance. “Took you long enough to notice me, jerk.”

You knew exactly what you were doing. The brat in you wanted to push. You wanted the consequences.

He didn’t take the bait lightly.

“No, Peach. I’ve been noticing you forever,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “You put me through hell with that ass of yours. And now?” His breath burned against your neck. “Now I’ve reached my limit.”

Then: “Get on your knees.”

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Blood raced. Adrenaline licked every nerve ending like fire.

You dropped, no hesitation, the air thick between you.

His belt hit the floor like thunder.

You looked up,and damn. He was beautiful, hard, thick, pierced, and proud. Your lips parted before you even realized.

“Open that pretty mouth, sweets,” he said, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Maybe this’ll finally shut you up.”

Your breath came shaky as you obeyed, your eyes still locked on his. You wanted to ruin him. And he knew it.

He hissed as your lips wrapped around him. His hand stayed knotted in your hair, the other braced on the counter behind him, head tilted back in restraint.

“Fuck, Peach…” he moaned, and it shot straight through your core. His voice, thick and trembling, was sweeter than any praise.

Your tongue worked him slowly, expertly,dragging over the piercing just enough to make him twitch.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, jaw locked. “If you keep looking at me like that, I swear to God you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

He dragged you back up by your hair gently, but possessively,your chest pressed to his, breath mingling.

He grabbed your chin, thumb sliding along your bottom lip.

“Open up, Peach.”

You did.

He slid his thumb inside your mouth, and you sucked on it obediently, tongue swirling like you were starving for him. His pupils blew wide, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon.

“Who knew you were such a slut for me,” he said with a wicked grin.

You bit down gently on his thumb.

His smirk turned dangerous. “Brat,” he hissed.

And then he crushed his mouth to yours.

It was chaos.

Teeth. Tongues. Desperation. His hands everywhere, yours tangled in his shirt like you needed him to hold you up,or you’d drop to the floor, ruined.

You didn’t know what was happening next.

Only that you wanted all of it.

You were dizzy. Drunk on him.

And when he pulled back, just barely, voice low and trembling?

“If we don’t move to the bedroom now, I’m fucking you right here against the counter.”

Your smile was dangerous.

That was all it took.

He gripped your waist like he’d been waiting his whole life to, lifting you up and carrying you with that effortless strength like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the mattress, soft but charged—your chest rising fast, your pulse louder than the room itself.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looking at you like you were something sacred and savage all at once. Completely bare, except for that skirt still hanging low around your hips, clinging on like it didn’t want to miss the show.

Erik groaned, deep and rough. “Now that’s a fucking sight.”

Then he was over you,arms caging you in, body heavy with need, muscles taut, eyes locked on yours. You could feel the burn of his stare tracing every inch of skin he hadn’t touched yet.

“Say the words, Peach,” he whispered against your neck, lips brushing your skin, sending a shiver straight through your spine. “And I’m yours. All of me.”

You looked up at him, eyes wild and soft all at once. He hovered there like he didn’t dare move until you called him home.

“You’ve always been mine, dumbass,” you breathed, voice thick with something between want and love.

Then you pulled him in,fingers tight on his shoulder, lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deep, and dangerous. One of those kisses that said don’t you dare stop touching me. One that made time stutter.

You pulled back just barely, eyes still locked on his, your arms looped around his neck like a vow.

“Fuck me, Erik.”

And that was it.

His restraint shattered.

He slammed into you with a growl that sounded like it came from somewhere deeper than his chest. You gasped, the force of him knocking the air from your lungs,and your mind.

His piercing dragged over every sensitive inch of you, igniting sparks that made your vision blur.

“God, Peach,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping like you were drowning in each other. “You feel-fuck,you feel unreal.”

You clenched around him, nails digging into his back as he moved with pure purpose. It wasn’t just sex,it was claiming, consuming, years of tension finally set on fire.

The rhythm was relentless. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

He was everywhere,his hands on your hips, his breath in your ear, his teeth scraping along your jaw like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

“This what you wanted?” he growled, voice wrecked. “Me losing my mind for you?”

You barely managed a nod before he shifted, thrust deeper, harder, making your body arch beneath him.

You couldn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Because the look in your eyes screamed it: I want you to ruin me. I want you to stay.

And he would.

Every second, every touch, every ragged moan said the same thing back.

He already was.

The sunlight hit your face like karma.

You groaned, shifting under the sheets,but you couldn’t move far. There was a whole wall of muscle and menace wrapped around you.

Erik.

His arm was thrown over your waist like a human seatbelt, chest pressed to your back, legs tangled. And dear god,he was still warm. Still solid. Still smug in his sleep.

And still very naked.

You blinked at the ceiling, brain slowly rebooting from what could only be described as the Mount Vesuvius of orgasms.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered to yourself. “I think he rearranged my spine.”

From behind you, Erik let out a sleepy groan, nuzzling into your shoulder. His morning voice was pure filth,low, gravelly, and half a threat.

“You talkin’ shit, Peach?”

“I’m talking facts,” you muttered. “I’m not sure I can walk. My knees still think I’m on the kitchen floor.”

He laughed, a deep rumble that vibrated against your back.

“You were asking for it.”

You rolled over to face him,and regretted it instantly because his smile was too smug, too hot, and he was definitely still packing a lethal weapon between his thighs. That damn piercing should come with a warning label.

“I wasn’t asking for you to put me in a chokehold with your thighs and rail me into another dimension.”

He smirked. “You say that, but you also said ‘harder’ like… ten times.”

“That’s not legally admissible in court.”

“Oh no?” He leaned in, lips brushing your neck, voice a seductive threat. “What about when you begged me to bite your-”

“ERIK.”

You both froze as Julia’s voice rang through the apartment.

“IF YOU BROKE THE BED, I SWEAR TO GOD-”

Your eyes went wide. Erik slapped a hand over your mouth to stop your giggle. His expression screamed do not move she’s like a damn T-Rex.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, PEACH.”

You whispered against his hand, muffled: “She’s gonna murder us.”

“She’s gonna throw holy water on me,” he whispered back. “Again.”

Julia’s footsteps got closer.

“I MADE COFFEE. AND PANCAKES. AND I NEED TO KNOW IF THIS IS A ONE-NIGHT STAND OR IF I SHOULD START PINNING WEDDING CENTERPIECES ON PINTEREST.”

Erik groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I hate her. I love her. But I hate her.”

You were dying. Physically dying from trying not to laugh.

Still, you grabbed the sheet, wrapped it around yourself like a toga, and tiptoed to the door.

Julia stood there. Holding a coffee. Looking entirely too smug.

“Well, well, well,” she said. *“If it isn’t ‘I hate his guts’ and ‘we’re just best friends.’”

You took the coffee. Sipped it. “It’s complicated.”

Behind you, Erik called out, “She begged.”

You turned and yelled, “I will end you, Campbell!”

Julia just raised her eyebrows. “So… you staying for breakfast or just coming for dessert?”

You turned beet red. Erik groaned from the bed. Julia cackled like a witch.

Welcome to hell. Population: You, your enemy-with-benefits, and your chaos-loving best friend.

And you wouldn't change a thing.

You went back to the Campbells house .Erik was in his sweatpants, no shirt, hair still a disaster from the night before. You were in his hoodie,that damn skirt of your and leftover sin.

You sat at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee like you hadn’t just gotten railed into next week.

Julia? Across from you. Staring. Judging. Plotting.

“So…” she said, too casually. “You two finally fucked. Loudly.”

You choked on your pancake.

“Julia.”

“Don’t ‘Julia’ me, Peach. You butt dialled me and I heard you yelling ‘wreck me, Erik.’ Like, honey, I left the apartment.”

Erik didn’t even flinch. “She said it. Multiple times. I have witnesses.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He grinned and bit into his pancake like he hadn’t just shattered your spine six hours ago.

Julia narrowed her eyes.

“So is this... a thing now? Or are we pretending you didn’t just dry hump each other into the afterlife in front of my Christmas candle?”

You and Erik exchanged a glance.

And then,because the devil owns your soul,he looked right at you, smirking, and said:

“She’s mine.”

Your heart didn’t just flutter. It sucker-punched you.

Julia blinked. “Oh, we’re doing the possessive era now. Good. I’ll get matching sweatshirts printed.”

You were about to throw a waffle at her when there was a knock on the door.

Julia frowned. “Who the hell...?”

She opened it.

And you saw her.

Sophia.

Looking airbrushed, iced-out, and suspiciously smug. Next to her?

Alex.

Oh hell no.

You straightened in your chair. Erik’s jaw tightened so fast you could hear it.

“Well, this is awkward,” Sophia said sweetly, glancing at you like she was checking for damage. “We were in the neighborhood. Thought we’d stop by.”

Julia stepped aside slowly, eyes wide. “This is about to be so good.”

You stood.

“Hi, Alex,” you said coolly, sipping your coffee like it was champagne. “Didn’t expect to see you. Or your… shadow.”

Sophia gave a fake laugh. “Oh Peach, still spicy. Cute.”

Erik stood behind you, one hand resting lightly on your waist, thumb brushing under the hem of his hoodie like it was instinct.

Alex’s eyes followed it. You saw it.

So did Sophia.

“So,” Erik said, casually dominant, voice low enough to sound like a warning. “You here to start drama, or are you just lost?”

“We just wanted to catch up,” Alex said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been a while. Thought you were still single.”

You didn’t miss that.

Neither did Erik.

He leaned down, kissed your cheek, then whispered near your ear,just loud enough.

“You wore me out last night, Peach. Still sore?”

You nearly dropped dead from the power.

Julia straight-up wheezed.

Sophia’s mouth tightened like Botox on a budget.

“Well,” she snapped, “this was fun.”

“Thrilling,” you said. “Next time, send a postcard.”

They left, tension trailing behind them like glitter and bad perfume.

As soon as the door shut, Julia collapsed on the floor.

“YOU GUYS. I AM LIVING FOR THIS. I NEED A REALITY SHOW. I NEED A CAMERA CREW. I NEED YOU TO FUCK ONCE PER EPISODE AND THEN DESTROY EVERY EX WHO CROSSES YOUR PATH.”

You dropped into Erik’s lap, chest heaving from all the drama. He wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he said against your shoulder, “round three after brunch?”

You smiled, slow and wicked.

“Only if you say please.”

He smirked.

“Brat.”

[quarterlifekitty]

Okay but slight angst for Nik's kitty is after the first time Simon mounts her, she does not trust Nik anymore, the second she hears footsteps she's hiding, she rejects anything with Simon's scent cause he scared her by being so intense.

She's Nik's soft little kitten and she's never been treated rough like that before and then having her owner hold her and hold the base of her tail made her upset with nik, he knows she hates it!

She straight up will not let Nik touch her, hides under the bed and yowls whenever he does manage to get her. She refuses to touch her soft kitty bed that smells like Simon now and even sleeps under a bed in the guest room instead.

She'll calm down eventually obviously but her owner never did anything she didn't like before so she obviously blames Simon and John (especially John, he's on kitten's shit list) for making her Nik be a meanie to her.

When she doesn't get pregnant with kits the first time and Kitten overhears plans to bring Simon back over she has a fit. "He's big and mean and he made you be mean to me too!"

Sorry for this ramble, I love the horniness of the kitten au but the potential for angst is also delicious because imagine being a pampered kitten who's owner made sure to never make you uncomfortable or do things you don't like.

only for this strange man and his tom cat that has the aura of a man ready to kill to show up at your home and then you're made to accept getting bred while your owner who's never been mean to you holds you and your tail in a way he knows you don't like, like how could you be mean to your princess Nik?

Ofc eventually she would accept Simon again but she's really resistant immediately after and feels so betrayed. Lol

I loooooooove this idea. Stab him in the heart why don’t you?

Nikolai is so gutted when you hide under the bed and won’t let him near— you don’t even bite his hand, you just distance yourself! There are plates with your favorite treats all over the house, your favorite toys, he pulls all of your blankets fresh from the dryer so they’re warm and soft.

And no, it didn’t take the first time, must have been all of the stress— so Nik tells John that they have to take it slow, and Simon is to be leashed and on his best behavior. After some sharp tugging from John, Simon finally gets the idea that he has to be a bit more subtle… it takes a week or two of these little “dates” before you even come out from under the bed and sniff carefully around Simon while he stands stock still, trying not to spook you. Eventually, you let him groom you a little, and very cautiously let him into your bed for afternoon naps (and he has to hide how pissed he is that your blankets don’t smell like him anymore).

After a few months of agonizingly slow courtship, your heat just starting to tickle at your lower belly, you tug on Nik’s arm as John starts getting ready to leave, telling him quietly that you want Simon to stay.

“Are you sure, milaya? Your heat will probably start tomorrow… and I won’t be able to keep him away.”

You shyly nod before darting off to bed, your little bell collar tinkling as you rush away and start kneading your blankets.

But of course, if you just won’t forgive Simon so easily, John happens to have just started fostering 2 more hybrids that might be a little sweeter to you….

[itneverendshere]

Wait how about kelces sister x hockey rafe but its fluffy (and smutty🤭) about them being a couple in front of their families (I can’t remember if u said they grew up together or not)

another lil something i got done at work, enjoy! <3

your dad’s manning the grill like it’s the nhl finals, spatula in hand, barking orders about burgers and buns. your mom’s by the drinks table, laughing with one of the neighbors, and kelce's somewhere inside, stealing beers from the fridge. same old backyard, same summer cookout… except not really.

because now, rafe’s your boyfriend.

despite knowing him your entire life, the scraped knees and stupid dares and endless hockey games in the driveway, it feels brand new.

electric.

rafe’s leaning against the deck railing, ball cap low, sunglasses perched on his nose, that smug half-smile on his face as he watches you cross the yard. you can feel his eyes, the heat of them tracking you shamelessly.

“you’re staring,” you warn under your breath when you sidle up beside him, nudging his hip with yours.

“i know,” rafe says, not pretending to be subtle. his hand settles on the small of your back, fingers sneaking under the hem of your little sundress. his voice drops lower for you — filthy, although your dad’s ten feet away. “how’m i supposed to look anywhere else when you’re walking around in that thing?”

you swat his hand, cheeks hot. “be normal.”

“impossible.” his thumb drags along the curve of your spine. "i get to touch you now. you think ’m not gonna lose my mind over that?”

your heart squeezes, traitorous and warm, but you roll your eyes to cover it up. “you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

rafe’s grin turns downright wolfish. “princess, your parents like me.”

“they liked you when you weren’t trying to undress me in the backyard.”

the yard’s full now — your uncles shouting over the game on the outdoor tv, your aunt pretending not to judge everyone’s outfits, your mom slipping more drinks into rafe’s hand.

“finally got him to make a move, huh missy?” your mom teases when you step up beside her at the drinks cooler, "took him long enough.”

you nearly choke on your lemonade. “momma—”

“please. half this neighborhood’s been placing bets since you two were fifteen.” she gives you a knowing look, popping the lid off another soda. “you looked awfully cozy this morning."

your face burns. you’d stayed at tannyhill last night — your first official sleepover since going public with your relationship, and apparently, you weren’t as sneaky as you thought.

across the yard, rafe’s with ward, talking hockey and grilling tips like he hasn’t been shamelessly eye-fucking you all afternoon. his sisters are nearby too, both of them giggling, amused at how pathetically whipped their brother looks.

“it’s disgusting, really,” sarah says when you walk over. “the way he looks at you.”

“he’s smiling,” you point out, laughing.

“exactly. disgusting.” she bumps your shoulder playfully, but there’s nothing but warmth in her eyes. “we’ve been waiting forever for him to figure his shit out.”

“whole family’s been rooting for you two,” ward adds, clapping his son on the back with enough force to make him stumble. “about time he did something right.”

rafe rolls his eyes, but his hand sneaks into yours, fingers lacing together, brushing over your knuckles in that familiar way.

“did plenty right,” he mutters under his breath, tugging you closer. “took my time, that’s all.”

“more like you were too scared to ask my dad."

he groans, head tilting back dramatically. “don’t remind me.”

your dad hadn't made it easy. years of knowing rafe as kelce’s best friend, watching him grow up, pull dumb stunts, get into fights… yeah, your dad wasn’t thrilled at the idea of him dating his daughter. but even he’s warmed up now, watching the two of you from the grill.

“y’know,” wheezie adds, popping a chip into her mouth, “rose's already planning christmas photos.”

“stop—”

“matching outfits.”

“shut up—”

“probably a wedding board hidden somewhere too—”

you bury your face in rafe’s shoulder, squeezing your hand tighter.

two hours later, as the good sister in law you are, you leave the gathering to get some suncreen for poor burning wheezie.

in the meantime, you barely make it through your bedroom door before rafe’s there—shoulder pressing it shut behind him, palm flattening against the wood, caging you in.

“baby—”

you're turning toward your vanity, pretending to grab the sunscreen you came up for.

“jesus,” you tease, trying to slip past him “someone’s eager.”

“don’t care.”

his hand catches your wrist before you get two steps, spinning you firmly until your back hits the door. his hips slot against yours, unmistakably hard through his jeans.

“been waiting all day. that dress. that mouth.”

you tilt your chin up, “what about my mouth?”

his eyes narrow, horny and amused all at once. “smartass.”

"rafe, our families—”

“outside.” his nose grazes along your cheek, his voice shameless need. “we’re in here.”

one hand braces beside your head, the other slides possessively along the curve of your waist. his fingers toy with the hem of your sundress—the one that's been driving him out of his mind all afternoon, short enough to tease him, to make him imagine what's underneath.

which he has memorized by heart now.

you don’t stop him.

“need somethin'?” you ask innocently.

“y'know what i need,” rafe nearly pouts, failing to play it cool.

your eyes drag over him—the backwards hat, the stupidly broad shoulders filling out his polo, the not-even-subtle bulge in his jeans.

“you’re being obvious,” you hum.

“keep talkin’,” he tuts, “and you’re not walking back down those stairs.”

your heart kicks at the tempting threat.

“yeah?” his hand sneaks higher, fingers grazing your bare thigh.

"like i said, waited long enough."

the contact steals your breath.

“technically,” you hum, voice taunting, “you’ve been in love with me since we were fourteen. so, whose fault is that?”

his touch abandons your thigh to shove your dress higher, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging along your slick center.

“yeah?" his voice goes rough, circling your clit with maddening, feather-light touches. “been driving me fuckin’ insane since then, too.”

you bite back a whimper, chasing his touch.

“that’s not an excuse to—ah—corner me at a family party, rafe.”

“this—” he sinks two fingers inside you, watching your pouty mouth part, your teasing crumble— “—isn’t cornering you.”

your head tips back, a moan slipping free as his thumb workes wonders, turning your legs to jelly.

"it’s taking care of my girl.”

[saintormentor]

dirty voicemails c. s

in which . . . chris sends you voicemails of him fucking other girls after the breakup, but why did he call out your name?

content warnings . . . voicemail-style formatting, sexual content involving third parties, emotionally manipulative behavior, degradation / humiliation, possessiveness / jealousy, toxic relationship themes, crying during sex ( implied emotional breakdowns ), references to alcohol and intoxication, masturbation / audio voyeurism, implied dubcon ( in tone, not literal non-consent) , heartbreak / emotional distress, gaslighting / obsessive ex behavior, self-destructive language, graphic language, suggestive audio description breakup aftermath / longing

voicemail #1 . . . 1:24am

“mhm… fuck, yeah, just like that—shit, baby.” panting. soft moans in the background.

he laughs. smug, loose. definitely drunk.

“you hear her? she sounds better than you ever did beggin’ for it.”

a wet slap. another moan. his voice dips—low, cruel.

“i’d tell you to block me, but we both know you won’t.” click.

voicemail #2 . . . 11:09pm

music in the back. maybe a party. girls giggling.

“she’s got a tongue ring. you ever think about getting one?” he’s chewing gum.

a girl moans again. muffled.

“she’s gagging all over me. you’d probably cry.”

another voice, asking who he’s talking to.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, baby. just an old friend.” click.

voicemail #3 . . . 3:32am

quiet. rain pattering outside. just his voice this time.

“y’know, i woke up and reached for you. stupid, right?”

he sniffles. sighs.

“i miss the way you’d hum when you brushed your teeth.”

a pause. his breath hitches.

“whatever. fuck you. i’m fine.” click.

voicemail #4 . . . 9:14pm

“she doesn’t talk back. you’d hate her.”

a sharp breath. skin hitting skin again. he groans, dragging it out.

“she lets me do whatever i want. that’s what i wanted. someone more… obedient.”

silence.

“but she doesn’t make me feel shit.” click.

voicemail #5 . . . 1:47am

laughter. his. and a girl’s. slurred, obnoxious.

“nah, don’t worry, baby—she can’t hear this. but you can, can’t you?”

wet, squelching sounds. breathy moans.

he gets close to the mic. you can hear the bass in his chest.

“miss the way you used to sob for it. fuck. that was art.” click.

voicemail #6 . . . 4:56pm

“saw your new post.”

he sounds annoyed. possessive.

“you wore that top on our second date. what, tryin’ to send a message?”

“you looked good. like… too good.”

“i bet you’re fucking someone. he fuck you like i l do?” click.

voicemail #7 . . . 2:11am

there’s crying. not his.

“she’s crying. i told her i couldn’t stop thinking about someone else.”

a door shuts. a silence. then he breathes out.

“you fucking ruined me.”

long pause.

“you win.” click.

voicemail #8 . . . 5:03am

he sounds wrecked. raspy. low and drunk and unraveling.

“baby… fuck… fuck, you always took me so good—shit—i keep fucking them like they’re you.”

he moans. clearly jerking off.

“miss you. miss your thighs. your throat. your smart ass mouth. tight fucking cunt.”

a growl. a desperate groan.

“god, [your name]—fuck, i—”

click.

a / n . . . credits to whoever first came up with this! couldn’t find out who, but this is not my original idea! also, this series depicts an unhealthy, obsessive dynamic. not a romantic portrayal — read with caution and take care of yourself.

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

“I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[soft4changbin]

Subtle sparks

Hongjoong x shy!reader

Summary: Hongjoong stays late at the studio to talk to a shy girl, trying to break through her quiet nature with gentle teasing and charm.

Word count: 602

The dance studio was quiet for once.

Only the soft hum of the speakers and the occasional squeak of Hongjoong’s sneakers broke the silence. Most of the others had gone for a late dinner, but Hongjoong stayed behind—said he wanted to work on a few ideas. In truth, he had a different reason.

You were seated against the wall, knees pulled to your chest, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. One of the backup staff for ATEEZ, you mostly stayed behind the scenes—timid but reliable. Hongjoong had noticed you for a while now, always quiet, always kind, always slipping away before anyone could pull you into a conversation.

And he wasn’t usually shy, not like this. But something about the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, or offered a small, polite smile when spoken to, made him hesitate. He didn’t want to scare you off.

So tonight, he made sure you’d both be here. Alone.

“Hey,” he said, jogging over and dropping beside you, cross-legged. “You’re still here?”

You blinked, startled, then gave a tiny nod. “Yeah. Just waiting for the others to finish so we can walk back.”

“You didn’t want to grab food with them?”

“I wasn’t really hungry.” You looked down. “And… crowded places kind of stress me out.”

Hongjoong tilted his head. “Fair. I like quiet sometimes, too.”

You nodded again, and silence settled over the room. He tapped his fingers on his knees, trying to act casual. “You know, I’ve been working on a song.”

“Oh?” You looked up slightly, curiosity peeking out.

“Yeah. It’s kind of… soft. Different vibe.” He glanced at you, smiling. “I think you’d like it.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to laugh at my singing,” he teased.

You cracked a smile, eyes shy but sincere. “I don’t think I could ever laugh at you.”

God, he was so screwed.

“Okay,” he said, heart thudding. “Be honest. Have you ever been on a date with someone who writes music about you?”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Me?”

He laughed softly. “Hypothetically. But yeah, maybe you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away. “No. I haven’t.”

“Well,” he said, shifting closer just enough for you to notice. “I’m trying to decide if I should ask this girl I know. She’s quiet, super sweet, probably smarter than me. Always kind. Kind of hard to read, though.”

You glanced at him through your lashes, lips parting slightly. “Maybe she’s just nervous.”

“Maybe,” he said softly. “Do you think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

Your breath caught. “I… I think she might.”

He leaned in, voice warm now, but still gentle. “Would you say yes?”

Your eyes met his, wide and uncertain. But you nodded. Barely.

“I’d say yes.”

Hongjoong grinned, relief and something brighter flooding his chest. “Cool. No pressure. We’ll keep it simple. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. I promise not to bring the guys or perform any dramatic love songs.”

You giggled, a small sound that made him feel like the sun had just peeked through.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”

He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on, then. I’ll walk you back.”

You took it.

And for the first time that night, he saw you smile with no hesitation.

[emeraldserenade]

OOOOOH AN IDEA BASED ON YOUR SECRET LOVERS FIC

How about Joaquin Torres x Reader where shes with Bucky's side (not rly but for the plot cuz shes an assassin) because they initially thought that it'll be better for Bucky to "monitor" her since she was a newly trained young assassin or perhaps they have a feud saying its probably better for her to be under Sam's care and her and Joaquin just be getting along while Sam and Bucky are bickering like old married couple

Not So Star Crossed Lovers ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You and Joaquín date despite your mentors fighting over who gets to keep you

tw: fem!reader, Joaquín and reader are both down bad for each other, none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! I loved this idea!!

➽──────────────❥

It wasn't always that a young assassin was sent to James Buchanan Barnes, really it was never. But when Bucky was told you were a young assassin, he decided that he could take you in. But there was a problem, Sam Wilson firmly believed that you would do better with him. That being around that many antiheroes wouldn't give you the same chance at being what you wanted that you would have with Sam in DC.

Many phone calls between Bucky and Sam happened, at some point between the phone calls, you got Joaquín Torres' number. Bucky would find you giggling and kicking your feet while you laid on your stomach talking to Joaquín over the phone. You would light up when your phone went off only to deflate a little if it wasn't Joaquín.

At some point, you and Joaquín ended up dating. Even if you've only ever seen each other in person the few times Sam would visit New York to argue with Bucky in person. But now you were sitting in a car with Bucky next to you headed to Sam's headquarters. You were practically bouncing in your seat from excitement, and Bucky just shook his head.

You were sitting next to Joaquín, the desk chair that was given to you as close to Joaquín's as you could get it. You two were talking, laughing, and sharing kisses as Sam and Bucky fought a few feet away. Joaquín showed you footage of him fighting alongside Sam and you would smile and enthusiastically tell him that he looked so cool. "I bet you look even better when you fight, hermosa," Joaquín flirted, smiling as you got shy at the nickname.

"Probably not, I don't have cool wings like you do," you said, trying to get even closer to Joaquín.

"Just sit in his lap at this point!" Sam called over as he caught you trying to get closer, you shyly laughed but Joaquín pulled you into his lap anyway. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kept talking, laughing at his stupid jokes and kissing him when you felt like it.

"I guess she can stay with you two," Bucky relented after watching you two. "I still think she'll learn more with us, but I don't think she'll be better without him," Bucky added on, a soft smile on his face as he watched you be yourself without shame.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[seungsoftly]

why so shy?

꒰੭ lee heeseung x fem. reader ꒰੭ genre: shortfic/fluff ꒰੭ wc: 1.07k ꒰੭ contains mentions of being anxious, light kissing

livi's note ✿ thank you guys so much for over a 150 notes on my first drabble and over 250 notes on my first request, not to mention for 30 followers! you guys have no idea how much that means to me, it just warms my heart that y'all enjoyed it! this is sort of inspired by heeseung in my drabble as sort of a continuation a couple of months later and for my moot @obseeung so i hope you shy hee enthusiasts enjoy!

divider credits to @toastray

in the short few months that your relationship had gone on for, heeseung had been nothing but the perfect gentleman.

every week, he’d ask you on a date somewhere new. sometimes it was a restaurant, sometimes it was just a walk somewhere, and most recently it had been to an arcade.

the both of you had played games to your heart’s content, and when you ran out of tokens, heeseung didn’t hesitate to offer you some of his so you could keep playing. it was so sweet of him. you’d never truly felt entirely touched by something that your ex had done for you, and here heeseung was, drawing all kinds of feelings from you when your relationship had just started.

and not to mention the fact that when you two were done and went to redeem your tickets, heeseung gave you all of his and whispered in your ear, “pick whatever you want sweetheart. i already got the pleasure of your company tonight.”

heeseung was just so perfect and sweet, but it was only at the end of these little dates, occasionally when he’d gather up the courage to say something romantic like that to you.

he just got so shy and so anxious about what you thought of him and that he might be making a fool of himself with every single word that came out of his mouth. god he just got so nervous that he was going to do something wrong and entirely screw up in front of you and absolutely ruin your relationship.

that was his never ending nightmare. him doing something that hurt you when he didn’t mean to and making you hate him for the rest of his life. 

this was probably the best relationship that heeseung had ever been in. you were just perfect and beautiful and so sweet, and he never wanted to let you go. you were so out of his league, and he was just amazed that you had said yes to him in the first place.

…

five months in, heeseung gave you a spare key to his apartment. when you’d protested, he only had one thing to say, albeit slightly mumbling it because he was still shy around you a little bit.

“if anyone could just walk into my apartment, i’d want it to be you.”

his statement made you blush, yet again touched by your romantic boyfriend. he was turning red too, ears flushed as his own thoughts were spiralling through his head, out of control. heeseung was once again shocked that you’d said yes to him.

and soon enough, this spare apartment key turned out to be a pretty good thing for your relationship…

…

the two of you had made plans for later that afternoon, and since it was only around noon, heeseung wasn’t expecting you to show up for at least a few more hours. you’d already told him a couple of days ago that you had class in the early afternoon that you couldn’t miss.

don’t get him wrong, he was very much looking forward to hanging out with you, but you still made him a little bit nervous, and that made him act much shyer than he did around his friends.

you absolutely adored how cute heeseung was when he was acting all shy around you, but you wished that he could break out of the little shell that he seemed to put himself in around you. you’d seen before how he acted around his friends, and you wished that you could have that heeseung to talk to as well as the polite gentleman that he already was around you.

so, you’d planned on catching him by surprise, coming over an hour earlier than you’d planned for your hangout at his apartment. and then it got even better. your afternoon class was surprisingly cancelled for that day, so you could head over even earlier.

soon enough, you were standing outside of heeseung’s door, sliding the key into the lock and turning the doorknob easily. and what you found beyond that door absolutely just melted your heart.

heeseung had music on, the volume quiet but still audible as he rushed around the room, picking up what seemed to be everything while muttering to himself, “i’ve got to make sure it looks nice for her.”

he hadn’t even noticed you standing in the doorway yet, and you were just frozen in place, touched in a way that nobody had ever done before. you thought he was sweet. no. he was incredible. heeseung is definitely a keeper, you thought to yourself.

“you’re so sweet hee!” the exclamation came out of your mouth before you could stop it. the only thing that was stopped was heeseung himself, frozen as he turned his head to look at you while carrying at least three blankets and two pillows as he was attempting to make his couch look slightly presentable at the least.

“oh i wasn’t…”

“i didn’t even think to call you, i’m so sorry i barged in here so early,” you chuckled nervously, hoping you really hadn’t disturbed him at a bad time.

“no, no y/n it’s okay… uh i was just tidying some things up to make the apartment better for when you came over,” heeseung mumbled, head ducked slightly out of bashfulness. he had certainly not been expecting you to come over this early.

“hee, why are you so shy around me?” you blurted out, not entirely thinking but wanting to know the answer.

his head popped up, eyes widening as he stuttered out a response.

“um, well i just want to be a good boyfriend ‘n all, and i just get nervous that i’m going to do something or say something wrong and it’s gonna mess our relationship up and hurt you…” he rambled on.

“i’m just gonna stop you right there handsome,” you smiled warmly, crossing the space between you two in a few quick steps before catching his face in your hands. “you’re just fine, and you’re not going to mess us up. just stop worrying about it, and let me see the real you. i’ve been wondering what he’s like.”

and before he could say anything in response, you closed the gap between your lips, pressing yours to his in a sweet kiss.

after a moment, you pulled away. “now how about we get rid of that shyness, shall we?”

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[cherrygarcia-07]

Hi Cherry! I just saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering, what are your Spencer headcannons? Like in a relationship but maybe also in general?

aaaah thank you so much for asking I love making up little spencer scenarios in my head !! apologies if these aren’t that interesting they’re just the thoughts off the top of my head but thank you for giving me an opportunity to ramble about him :3

in a relationship

(i’m a firm bisexual spencer believer so these are all gender neutral)

-he’s a big cuddler. i feel like that’s a generally excepted one in the community but like that man hangs on like a koala. there’s times when he’s overwhelmed and needs to be alone, but there’s more times when he just wants to be as physically close to his partner as possible and live in their skin . also he looooves to be the little spoon.

-speaking of, he’s kind of like a great dane with lap dog syndrome. he kind of forgets how big he is when he wants to lie on top of his partner or cuddle up into them. think how he always tries to curl up on the jet with his big long legs folded all awkwardly lol

-he’s not a huge pet name user, at least not at first. honestly, he loves to just use his partner’s name because it’s theirs and he loves them and how their name feels in his mouth. however the pet names he uses are classic ones, like honey or sweetheart (i’m a big sweetheart spencer enthusiast) and they often come out when his partner is upset/stressed and he’s calming them down. in my opinion he wouldn’t really use baby himself but he would melt when it’s used on him. i think he’d probably also come up with some cute nickname personal to his partner, something unique referencing some kind of inside joke or book they read together.

-if his partner doesn’t speak english as their first language you bet he is learning their native language as soon as possible. he loves the way they light up and speak with more confidence in their native language and he wants them to be able to do that freely. if you walked into his apartment you’d find stacks and stacks of books about their culture and their home country.

-he matches his ties and sometimes his mismatched socks to his partner’s outfit on date night. it’s something silly that makes the two of them happy, and he really just loves making the effort for them. he likes everybody he walks past to know that he’s theirs.

-biiiiig love letter writer/note leaver. literally words are his love language. he thinks it’s magic how they can have so much power, how many ways you can use them to say i love you in a million different ways. the letters he writes are like something out of an old timey romance novel, like they were literally written at his desk in the candlelight with ink and a quill. he also loves leaving little notes around for his partner with quotes from poems and literature. (he also doodles on them a lot)

-in relation to that this man is SO romantic but literally has no idea. he’s not even trying to be. he knows he’s not the type for grand gestures or big public displays like he sees in movies so he thinks he has no game but then he’ll turn around and hand his partner a poem he read and say some shit like “the line about the sunset reminded me of how beautiful you looked in the light of the refrigerator that time we danced in the kitchen.” (or something much more elaborate than that but i have no game myself to think of an example). he’s romantic in the small gestures, in the flowers he picks for them on the walk home because he thought they were pretty, in the way he holds his jacket over their head when it’s raining to protect them, in everything he does.

-he loves parallel play. his brain is always working overtime around other people so with his partner he loves that the two of them are so comfortable enough with one another to just sit and co exist and not worry about anything else. he’s just happy to be near them.

-he lets out his goofy side in his relationships. think his clint eastwood impression or the karaoke scene. his partner is always sitting through impressions of various characters from different things, or listening to him awkwardly singing along to his old records as he cleans or brews his coffee. he’ll tell them all the stupid puns and jokes he can think of even if he laughs at them harder than they do.

in general

-he gets along so well with old ladies. like they love him so much he’s practically an old lady in his heart. i think when not in work he craves something mundane or normal, so he joins a knitting club or a book club or something with a bunch of old ladies and he either joins in all their chatting or just sits back and listens to them gossip.

-speaking of… he is such a gossip. he will deny it til the end of the earth but he is. he can be trusted with secrets and he’ll never tell anything private or sworn to secrecy but sit him and garcia in a room together and everyone’s petty business is getting aired.

-on that note he lowkey loves reality tv. another thing he completely denies. he’ll say it’s boring or not appealing to him but if someone is watching it around him they’ll catch him lingering quietly in the background. if asked he’ll say he’s studying their behaviour or something like that but really he’s just kinda messy.

-loves jim henson. the muppets, labyrinth, everything. it’s just wacky and weird and wonderful which is everything he is but he’s also fascinated by puppetry and everything that goes into the craft and making the shows/movies and it’s something he loves to infodump about.

-on halloween he keeps candy by his front door for trick or treaters in the apartment building and he goes all out for them. he buys a mask or a simple costume for himself and maybe makes a silly monster noise when he opens the door to make them laugh, and of course after that he compliments all their costumes and tells them they look awesome. in my opinion he was never taken trick or treating as a kid and as a lover of halloween he wants to make it special for all the kids that stop by.

-like everything he owns is from vintage/antique stores, especially all his trinkets and oddities. a perfect afternoon for him is just strolling the stores with a cup of coffee in his hand. he always tries to find out the history of the items he’s buying from the owners and he feels especially attached if whatever it is has a little story behind it. they’re also just a great excuse for him to ramble. if someone is in his apartment and compliments something he gets to break out into his ‘it’s made of this kind of ceramic and it was made in this year and comes from this country’ and he just loves doing that so much.

-he has an old old teddy bear that he treasures. it was either his as a young boy or his mums when she was a kid. it’s worn, it’s weathered but that’s what makes it charming. he doesn’t play with it or anything but its comforting to have around. he props it up on his pillows every morning when he makes his bed, or sometimes sits it on the other side of the chess board when he’s playing by himself. he might talk to it a little occasionally, like narrating the chess game or apologising when he wakes up and finds it on the floor.

-he corrects staff at museums or exhibits and stuff if there’s any misinformation and they lowkey find him annoying for it but i think it’s endearing. he’s just passionate about the facts and that’s okay.

-loooooves rainy weather. not necessarily to be in it but just to sit at his window and watch with a book in his hands and a cup of coffee next to him. he finds it cosy and relaxing, like white noise for when his brain is going a thousand miles a minute.

-he keeps notebooks for everything. he has one where he writes about his pet fish, their names and personalities and anything cute or amusing they did that day. he makes up little stories for them, like if two of them are acting odd he’ll write that they’re bickering and speculate why. he also has a notebook full of book reviews and essays that he writes just for fun, because to him reading is only half the fun and the rest of it comes in the analysis.

sorry i went on for SOOOO long but I just love talking about this man so much he’s the love of my life😭 i hope this was enjoyable for you!!!

[barnesandbarton]

“Okay,” he said.  “Pretty sure my passport is all up to date.  We don’t gotta do anything?  Like apply for a visa or anything like that?”

“Pretty sure Visas for Europe are only if you’re there over ninety days,” Bucky said. “But Nat’s passport would be Russian so it’s probably different,  I have no idea what it’s like for Russians.  Might not need one at all.”

She leaned into the touch while she looked at the available dates. “How about Sunday?”

[moonstruckme]

i saw your requests are open again! maybe you’d consider weiting a follow up on that awfully cute college au lily x reader story? maybe lily is late to the date or smt but its all cute and fluffy?

just an idea and no pressure!

have a lovely day!

Thank you, hope you're having a lovely day too ml!

cw: non magical uni au, written with the 70s in mind except there's no homophobia

part 1

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 694 words

You leave your class for the last time this term in a fugue. Names and definitions run through your head on a tired, neverending loop, but the opening of the doors as students flood from the building feels like your classmates letting out a collective breath. It’s a kaleidoscope of sunlight and voices and movement, and so you perhaps can’t be blamed when Lily has to call your name more than once for you to hear her. 

She’s nearly made it to you when you turn. Flushed cheeks and glittery eyes, she looks genuinely happy to see you. That pop rocks feeling starts up again in your middle. It’s a warm day, and Lily’s shoulders are out for the sun, revealing freckles scattered like fine powder down her arms and over her collarbones. 

“Hi,” you say, surprised. 

“Hi.” Lily presses a cup into your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Heat radiates outward from the touch of her lips until you’re quite sure you’re aflame from the tips of your ears down to your chest. “How was your exam?” 

“I feel like it went okay,” you murmur. Shy in the way Lily’s so good at making you. You look at the cup wet with condensation in your palm. “Is this for me?” 

“Mhm.” She brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “I thought you might like a reward after your last exam.” 

You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the full magnitude of your smile. It pleases you beyond belief that Lily knows your drink order. You’ve only had one date—and you weren’t entirely sure if it was a date for most of it. You’d talked yourself into believing it to be a simple thank-you for taking notes for her while she was asleep during your exam review. Lily might have only been a touchy person, playing with your fingers atop the table while you chatted over coffee. She probably smiled that way for everyone. She seems the outgoing, friendly sort, so it likely didn’t mean anything that she’d asked you if you fancied a walk after your drinks were both long emptied, and kept talking with you until the sun sank low over campus. 

You haven’t seen each other since then. You’d nearly convinced yourself that you were right and Lily was only being kind out of a sense of gratitude, but now here she is. 

“You remembered when my last exam was?” you ask. 

It’s gorgeous, the sweet flush that spreads across Lily’s cheeks. Your heart pitters. “Yeah,” she says, halfway to bashful. “I mean, it’s not so hard to listen to you, you know.” 

Your smile fights harder to be unleashed. You’ve been so occupied in being made nervous by Lily, you didn’t realize you held the power to make her nervous in turn. It’s thrilling. “You’re sweet,” you tell her. 

Lily’s blush worsens. “Did you—are you tired after your exam?” 

You hum. You’ve begun walking together unthinkingly, meandering through campus. “I woke up early to go over my notes one more time.” You take a long sip of your drink and sigh. “I hope it was worthwhile.” 

“I’m sure you did well.” Lily’s hand wraps around the crook of your elbow, nudging you closer so that your shoulders bump. Her fingers feel like electric sparks skittering down the inside of your forearm. She says secretively, “You’re brilliant.” 

Now it’s you hot in the face again. Back and forth, like a tennis match. “We’ll see,” you mumble, shrugging. 

Her fingers link through yours, squeezing. “You want to go home and rest?” 

“I don’t know.” You glance at her. Unsure of what she’s asking, or if she’s waiting for you to ask instead. “I might.” 

“Can I walk with you?” 

“Please,” you blurt. You and Lily both flush now, the evidence of hers visible and blatant. You’d pity her for how reactive her skin is, if only it weren’t so satisfying for you to look at. You think you both know you won’t leave her waiting outside once you get back to yours. 

“Alright,” says Lily, still glowing red and yet confident despite it. “I will, then.” 

[olderthannetfic]

I recently saw a post about people who genuinely believe they are too revolting to be dated, liked, be befriended, whatever. Not incels or antisocial by nature people, but people who have just had such terrible experiences socially since they were young, that they can't ever imagine themselves being good enough to actually be liked. People who reject the idea that anyone could be interested them platonic and romantic. Imagining that someone might be attracted to them causes second hand embarrassment and a deep feeling of cringe at even just the idea. Looking at pictures or videos of yourself causes revulsion, and mental crisis.

I realized that I'm one of these people. It just sucks because it's such an ingrained part of my psyche.

--

Funny when it's Groucho Marx. Shitty when it's how you have to live.

Get therapy. Not in the internet insult sense: in the sense that there are actually professionals who specialize in this sort of thing.

If you can't access one, you can at least start with that practice where you cut off negative thoughts consciously throughout the day. Basically, you pretend you're talking about someone else and go "Would you talk about your friend that way?" It feels artificial and bizarre at first, but it seems to work a lot better than one would think.

This isn't your true underlying personality, dude: it's a deeply entrenched bad habit like smoking, and—like smoking—it's probably a shitty coping mechanism for something or other. Also like smoking, it will be hard to quit, but people do succeed.

[noctiva]

Having g disgusting thoughts about ex bf toby who just cant get over you yknoe staring in yojr windows stalking where ever you go missing you angerly fisting his cock to the thought of yoh god helps anyone you try and date after him doubt he'd do anything public doesn't want you to know hes still watching till he wants you too. Just ough tje thought of the guy you went on a *good* date with thinking yoj fi ally recovered after toby only to open your door to see a gift wrapped box next to flowers you open it bam his heart and pictures of his corpse -M

RAHHHHHHHHH YEAH. the way he’d do this even if he was the one to break up with you. he did it because he thought it was for the best but every day without you feels like a gaping wound. lying awake in bed feeling nauseous at the thought of someone else laying their hands on you. someone else kissing you. someone else knowing your body like he does.

probably actually does throw up a couple times over it. especially if you block him/don’t immediately try to come crawling back to him. the idea that you might actually be doing better without him? it makes him shake. makes his throat close up. has the sadness and anger blurring together into one big volatile mess.

he stays away for maybe a week. and that’s pushing it. but he can only take so much.

picking up his jacket and still smelling your perfume on it making him want to slam his head through a window. up until the earliest hours of the night, his nose shoved into a pair of shorts you forgot at his place, pumping his cock fast and desperate. it used to suffice before he met you, but now that you’ve left your mark? it’s barely enough to get off. he can still vividly remember how perfectly your cunt gripped him - using his right hand after that is a joke.

so yeah. he stalks you. secretly hopes that you’re just as miserable as he is. that you can’t live without him. that you’d be ecstatic if he walked back into your life again.

and he gets that for a bit. sees the tears, the nights of frustration where you toss and turn. the scowl on your face when you break it off with yet another failed rebound. it’s gratifying. satisfying.

until it’s not.

you go on a good date, with a nice normal guy. he treats you well, makes you laugh, makes you smile - sends you home with a blush on your cheeks and a grin on your face. and god help you, because toby witnessed all of it. every little interaction. trailing you from the moment he picked you up, to the restaurant, to witnessing him placing a kiss on your cheek before he dropped you back off.

and that feels like a swift kick to the nuts. because how dare you? after everything he did for you? all the time you two had spent together? you’re moving on just like that? without even trying to make amends?

he’s not even sure who he’s more mad at; you, or the prick who somehow succeeded in sweeping you off your feet. as if he had any clue how to treat you right. as if he could ever love you the way toby did, and still does.

he wastes no time. follows the guy home after he drops you off. slaughters him the same day he stole your heart. and it is brutal. just so much unspent rage and grief taken out on this innocent bystander. but to toby? he’s anything but innocent. he’s a thief. he turned you into a traitor.

he doesn’t even notice it when the guy finally stops breathing, doesn’t even pay attention to his wails subsiding. just keeps delivering hit after hit, until he looks more like minced meat than a human corpse.

and of course, he wouldn’t want you to make this same mistake again.

you found it off that you didn’t receive a single text after the date had went so well. you’re checking your phone every five minutes, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you did wrong.

a knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. when you open it, there’s not a soul in sight. but on your porch? a bouquet of your favourite flowers, right next to a neatly wrapped little gift box.

and you smile. thinking that maybe this is a cute little surprise from your new love interest.

but of course it’s not. you should’ve expected that.

you drop the box as soon as you open it; the inner contents a mess of blood and gore that immediately makes you dry heave. the metallic scent clings to your nostrils, the Polaroid photo that accompanies it burns into your retinas.

dark and blurry, but it’s still clear as day what it is. the corpse of the man you had met just last night - slaughtered like a cow.

and next to it, a note.

‘nice try. stop wasting time and just come back to me.’