#so much to think about about this dude... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarletmika · 1 day ago

Text

So It Goes : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Bradshaw!Reader

Summary: From the moment you laid eyes on Bob Floyd, you were head over heels, and he was too. Your overprotective brother, though, was making it increasingly harder for either of you to make a move. Maybe it's time you defy his wishes.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, SMUT (unprotected p in v, oral f. receiving, dirty talk, praise, multiple orgasms, might be a slight hint of a breeding kink in there, kinda takes place in a public setting, aftercare!), porn with a LOT of plot, fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, brother's best friend trope, language, female reader, alcohol consumption, reader works at a vet clinic, kinda a slow-burn, there is ONE "killing myself" joke in here, lightly edited so I apologize for any mistakes!

Word Count: 19,944 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

You hated Bradley’s Bronco.

Well, hate was a strong word; it was just…outdated. The seats were cramped, there was barely any room for you to hang your feet up on the dash, and the stereo system was also way too old for your liking. The lack of Apple Maps compatibility, or just Bluetooth in general, had gotten you and your older brother in trouble many times when it came to directions. He also loved driving without the top on, which part of you believed he did specifically because he knew it annoyed you to no end, but you had learned to deal with the roaring wind in your ears.

Honestly, you didn’t have too much of an issue with the vehicle until times like this: driving almost three hours north, further into California, with the wind constantly beating your face and your brother’s music blaring. Bryan Adams’ classic hit, Summer of ‘69, was blaring through the old stereo, but it was also the third time you had heard the song since you hit the road. Three times was enough to have you reaching forward to manually switch the song.

“Absolutely not,” Bradley’s hand left the steering wheel for just a moment to slap at yours. You recoiled with a scoff, kicking your feet up onto the little dashboard space you had, and pulled out your phone instead. “Dude-! What have I told you about feet on my dashboard?”

“You fucked Jamie Pierce in these front seats in college,” you shot back at him, not missing the sideways glare he shot you for the comment. “This dash has seen worse than my feet.”

“A hot girl’s tits and my sister’s dirty ass sneakers are two different things, back on the floor chickie,”

He didn’t care for the indignant groan you let out, just reached over to swat at your leg before you finally threw your feet back on the floor of the passenger side with a huff.

“This is abuse, I’m telling Mav,”

“It’s not abuse, but we both know you’re his favorite and he’ll side with you anyway,” Bradley shot back as you locked eyes with your brother, knowing smirks on both of your faces. Mav really did let you get away with a lot. Bradley only shook his head with a laugh, keeping straight at the intersection before you, Big Bear Lake finally in your view in the late afternoon sun.

The song switched: Higher by Creed. Bradley didn’t waste a second in singing along, shoving one hand in front of your face like a pretend microphone to get you to join in. You only shoved him away with another laugh, digging your phone out of the back pocket of your shorts as it buzzed.

“Mick says hit the gas before Hangman breaks down the door to the cabin,” your brother rolled his eyes at the update from your friends. “Told them that I think we’re ten minutes out.”

“We are,” Bradley cleared his throat performatively, straightening up in his seat as he glanced over at you with a semi-stern look in his eyes. “Which means it’s time we lay down the ground rules for this trip.”

Ah. You were wondering how long this would take, for your brother to go full ‘brother mode’ on you and ‘lay down the law’ for your extended trip to the lake. You let out an exaggerated sigh, one that got you another look shot your way.

“This is your birthday trip, Roo. Do we really need to do this?”

“I’m your older brother, I make the rules-”

“Older by, like, two and a half years–give me a break!” you laughed incredulously, turning your head to watch the trees passing on your side of the car.

“Still older. Rule one: I know my squad are your friends too, but if anyone makes any comments toward you, you are to tell me immediately,”

Yeah, as if that would happen. It had been almost exactly a year since you had met Bradley’s squad: The Dagger Squad, the elite squadron formed at North Island under the command of your godfather, Pete Mitchell. It was right around Bradley’s birthday the year before that they’d been made a permanent squad. He’d called you immediately and convinced you to move back home to California with him, since you had stayed close to your college after graduating.

It wasn’t a hard decision to come home. You and Bradley…you were all each other had left, besides Maverick. There were also an abundance of vet clinics in the country, it wasn’t hard to find a new place to work. So, you flew in to go apartment hunting in San Diego on Bradley’s birthday, and met the entire squad. Meeting that crew of pilots was the easiest thing you had ever done. They accepted you with open arms, brought you in as if you were one of them, calling you their ‘Baby Roo’ or sometimes stealing Bradley’s own little nickname of ‘Chick.’ You were family to them; no one was going to be making any comments toward you.

“Highly unlikely, but go on,”

“Rule two: never be alone with Jake Seresin-”

“Bradley, you don’t even need to make that a rule; I do that of my own volition. Get on with it,”

“Rule three, the most important one of them all: keep your eyes and your hands to yourself and off of Bob,”

Ah, Bob Floyd. You saw that rule coming from a mile away. The only one of that entire squad, your group of friends, that you didn’t look at like extended family, like long-lost cousins, or more siblings. The moment you had walked into the hard deck and locked eyes with those deep, blue eyes hidden behind those dorky little glasses, you knew you were fucked.

“Bradley-”

“That means no eye-fucking him, chickie,” Bradley cut in, not allowing you to speak. You only sank lower into your seat with a sigh, knowing this was going to go on for a while. “Don’t be cuddling up next to him on the couch, don’t try sneaking off with him, don’t be ogling him when you think no one is looking, don’t make those little heart-eyes, for the love of god don’t wear those stupidly tiny bikinis…”

Your phone buzzed, a saving grace to save you from having to listen to your brother’s rant (that happened once a month at this rate). Opening your texts, you expected another message from Natasha or Mickey that Hangman had gotten impatient and broken down the door of your rented cabin.

A smile crossed your lips involuntarily the second you saw his name: Bobby. The rush of butterflies that flew through your stomach and into your chest, making your body feel weightless, as if you were floating in the clouds from a silly little text. That’s what Bob Floyd did to you, and he barely had to try.

Another flight of butterflies through your chest, almost begging to be let out and set free. Your smile only grew as you looked at his contact photo, just picturing him. His glasses probably slipping down the bridge of his nose, that little smile formed by those lips you spent way too many nights thinking about, and looking at. You wondered how he was dressed right now, if he was dressed down in a white t-shirt that would hug his biceps in a way that would almost have you drooling.

“-DUDE! You’re doing the heart-eyes shit right now–oh my god, he fucking texted you, didn’t he–knock it off!” Bradley reached over as you came up to a stop sign, grabbing your arm and getting a quick look at your screen before you could pull your phone away fully. “ARE THOSE HEARTS BY HIS NAME?”

“You have a heart by your name, too! So does Natasha!” you argued back, settling back into your seat with your phone back in your pocket. Bradley’s two hands returned to the steering wheel, and you let out a sigh as you saw the white knuckle grip he had. “Bradley, you treat me as if I’m not a grown woman. I’ve dated men, I’ve fucked men…what’s your problem with me having a crush on Bob?”

“Because he’s my best friend,”

Here you both went again, around in circles on the same argument you had been having since the night you met Bob Floyd.

You liked Bob…hell, at this rate, you were verging on the edge of saying you loved him. His laugh, his ability to get snarky when timing called for it, the way he was an absolute gentleman and opened every door for you, even brought you lunch at work some days when he had the time. You weren’t blind, either: he liked you, too. Neither of you ever said it out loud, but it was obvious. The constant brushing of hands when walking, the lingering stares, the way you always chose seats next to one another in a room, you both made your feelings evident without needing to say it. But there was Bradley, ever the over-protective older brother, standing in the way of things for an entire year with the simple excuse of ‘he’s my best friend’ every time. And sadly, neither you nor Bob wanted to anger him.

“Bradley, you would think that you’d be happy I chose Bob of all people. He’s, like, the perfect gentleman compared to most military men,” you shot back at him with a shake of your head. “I could’ve fallen for Jake-”

“Okay, first off, don’t even joke about you and Hangman. I don’t need that mental image,” he gagged at the thought, shuddering in his seat, as he turned down the road that led to the cabin. “Second, don’t even use the word love. Just…we aren’t going there. Bob is my best friend, and that just breaks so many sibling codes. You want to fight me on this topic when we get home, fine, but not for this trip.”

You didn’t get another word in before the Bronco pulled into the multi-car driveway of the cabin. You could make out Jake’s car and Natasha’s, meaning that the group was all here based on the earlier plans made for carpooling. You could see them, too, just barely up ahead, crowded around the electronically locked front door that only Bradley had the code to get into since he’d booked the place.

He was silent as he unbuckled himself, but when his glance turned to you, your gaze was formed into a glare and set on him as you practically threw the seatbelt off of you and threw the passenger door open.

“This conversation isn’t fucking over, Bradley,”

“Finally!” it was Hangman who called out from his place by the front door, waving over Bradley before he could comment back to you. “The fucking Bradshaw Bronco stopped moving at a snail’s pace, I see. You take the fucking scenic route? Come open the door so Reuben can get the grill going!”

You shook your head at the antics of your friends, laughing lightly under your breath as Bradley shook his own head and jogged over to get the cabin you’d be calling home for almost two weeks unlocked.

With him occupied, you moved around to the trunk, popping open the door and reaching in toward the back to grab both of your suitcases that had flown further back than you had placed them when loading. The door of the trunk was cutting into the skin of your thighs as you reached back into the trunk, when a hand suddenly curled around your waist. Fingertips barely brushed the exposed skin between the top of your shorts and your shirt as an arm reached past you to grab the suitcases. Despite the butterflies once again beating against your ribcage, you cursed the fact that your hormone-addled brain had the veins of Bob Floyd’s arm fucking memorized.

“I got them,” he’d mumbled out with a short laugh, tugging the suitcases to the edge of the trunk where you could fully reach them now. You spun, jumping up to sit on the open trunk bed so that you could fully look up at Bob. His smile grew the second you locked eyes, the hint of a red flush visible in his cheeks, but that hand didn’t stray from your waist. Instead, his thumb drew a small shape into your bare skin, and the heat that bloomed from his touch travelled through your body in an instant. “Hi.”

“Hi, Bobby,” you hated the fact that you were giggling like a little schoolgirl. He was barely touching you, had just said ‘hi’ of all things, and you were putty in his hands. “I told Bradley to step on it, heard a certain WSO missed me.”

“Yeah, we both know i-if you told him I said that, he’d have you halfway back to San Diego by now,” Bob joked, his hand leaving your waist to lug the suitcases from the trunk down onto the driveway at his feet. Your eyes followed every movement. The way his biceps strained against the sleeves of that ‘U.S. Navy’ t-shirt he wore, or the way his veins seemed more prominent from lifting what you knew was your heavy suitcase. Nothing was able to stop your depraved mind from even trailing your gaze to his ass for half a second.

“True,” you gave him a tiny grin as he leaned against the suitcases, looking back to you now with that softness in his eyes that you knew was reserved just for you. “I missed you, too, you know.”

Flustering Bob Floyd was one of your favorite pastimes, and it was just so easy. An easy brush of your fingers against his own, his arm, sometimes right across his chest if you could get close enough without Bradley breathing down your neck. Those simple little touches brought that delicious red hue to his neck and his cheeks, even the tips of his ears, if you really got him going. Words were the easiest, even the most simple of compliments from you got to him.

You had flustered him now with that simple admission: I missed you, too. Granted, you had just seen him the night before at a team dinner with Maverick in celebration of Bradley’s birthday, since the older pilot wouldn’t be joining you on the trip, but you missed him nonetheless. He had sat directly across from you that night at Penny’s dining room table, and every time you glanced up, his eyes were already on you, even if they looked away with a sheepish grin the second you caught him. The game of chicken with your gazes was interrupted by the swift kick that Bradley had landed to your shin with his foot from his seat beside Bob, followed by the piece of garlic bread you threw at his face that had Maverick mumbling about how ‘you two were why he never had kids’ as the entire squad laughed.

“I-I just saw you last night,” Bob was shaking his head, teeth biting just barely into his bottom lip as he looked up at you. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his shorts as he rocked back and forth, a nervous tick you had picked up on of his.

“No–you don’t get to turn this around on me, Floyd!” he laughed at your teasing as you jumped back to your feet, standing now before him as you tilted your head to look up at him fully. His eyes only left yours for a moment to trail along your index finger, pointed right into his chest. “I have the text message proof that you said you missed me first.”

You could tell he was biting back another laugh, his lips curled into a cheeky smile that was tinged with adoration, just like your own was. A cord of tension hung in the air between you both. Not an uncomfortable one, just an ever-present one. It was hanging by its last thread, looking between you both to see who would snap first and finally cut it, but neither of you moved, just locked in your own little bubble together as if the rest of the world didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, not when you were with Bob, the only man who ever had your heart ready to leap out of your throat with nothing but a smile.

That was, until Bradley himself broke your bubble. His sun-kissed hand came in, almost out of nowhere, swatting at your hand until it hung back by your side. The pilot’s other arm wrapped around Bob’s neck, and you could tell by the slight wince in Bob’s face that Bradley was tugging him in just a tad bit harder than he needed to be.

“Ah, it’s so nice to see my best friend and my sister getting along…such platonic friends,” your eyeroll was instant as your brother exaggerated his delivery of each of those key words. His smile was tight, teeth gritted, as he shot you a look in his eyes that read ‘what the fuck did we JUST talk about.’ “Bob, help me bring the bags in, please. Coyote has the grill going, and we need to do inventory before we make a run to the store.”

Bob obliged your brother, just as he always did. Of course you two were stuck in an endless ‘will they, won’t they’ loop with one another: Bob refused to cross Bradley’s boundaries, and you were a firm boundary that had been drawn since day one.

They stalked off as Bob sent you one last look over his shoulder, and you could barely make out the slight tinge of disappointment in them. Hangman blocked your view of your favorite Navyman, falling into step behind them. He casted a glance your way, mouthing a quick ‘cock-blocked’ your way that got him a mock laugh and a middle finger.

“I’m not sure what Bradley would rather let go of first…this damn Bronco or his obession with keeping you and baby-on-board from fucking,” Mickey’s comment drew a laugh mixed with a groan from you as Natasha’ slung her arm around your shoulder, giving you a place to rest your head as Mickey leaned on the car door in front of you.

“Neither, because he’s a stubborn and over-protective dick,”

“It’s just because he loves you,” Nat tried to remind you, leaning her own head against yours. “You’re rooming with me, by the way.”

“Ah, which means Bradley put you on cock-blocking duty during the night-”

“Have no fear, baby Roo, because I had an idea earlier,”

Your eyebrow immediately shot up at Mickey’s comment, his face full of pure delight and excitement as if he’d thought of the most brilliant plan in the world.

“Mick, last time you told me you had an idea, you ended up driving Reuben and me halfway to Sacramento before realizing you put the directions in wrong-”

“NO–that’s besides the point!” he interjected as you and Nat laughed at him, his cheeks burning at the memory he wanted to forget. “Look, I know you don’t want to anger your brother, and I know Bob doesn’t want to piss his best friend off, so you’ve respected Bradley’s wishes…for the most part. All you’re really doing, though, is driving us all insane. So, I’m going to make it my goal to get you and Bob as much alone time as I can.”

“Bob and I have been alone together plenty,” you shot back, feeling the rumble of Natasha’s body as she laughed at your statement. “He’s been to my apartment, he’s visited me at work, we’ve gotten dinner. If he hasn’t thrown caution and Bradley’s threats to the wind yet, what makes you think he will now?”

“A peaceful, tranquil, romantic lake? I don’t know, chickie, but you’re just as capable of saying ‘fuck it’ and making a move. Aren’t you tired of not being able to call him yours?”

You hated to admit it, but maybe Mickey had a point. The lake was beautiful, the house was beautiful, and if your best friend really could manage to distract your brother as much as he said he could…maybe that cord of tension could finally be snapped.

You were sick of not calling Bob Floyd yours.

❤︎

Your first night in the cabin was eventful, though it always was with the Dagger Squad. Coyote was an excellent cook, and the steaks and burgers he had managed to cook up were to die for. Payback and Fanboy had volunteered to make the food run to the local supermarket, coming back with what felt like the entire liquor aisle. It only took four drinks mixed by Hangman, who you suspected was mixing you doubles, before Bradley had carried your drunk ass off to bed for the night.

Not even a hangover stopped you from waking up at the crack of dawn the next morning, though, not that you wanted to be up. Your phone was showing it was only 5:30 in the morning, but given how quickly you had passed out the night before, you weren’t surprised. So, with one of Bradley’s old t-shirts tossed over your body, bare legs freezing in the cool California morning, you’d trudged as quietly past the sleeping Natasha in your bed and through the otherwise quiet cabin.

It gave you time to truly admire the cabin your brother had chosen. A fully open concept layout, the living room, dining room, and kitchen essentially mixed into one. A gorgeous a-frame shape, outlined in exposed wooden beams, with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the entire home in the faint light of the sun just barely peaking over the horizon and glinting over the lake. Truly picturesque…and romantic, as Mickey had called it.

You’d been afforded just a few minutes of silence in the kitchen, just a single warm light over the stove turned on, as you dug through the now fully stocked pantry and fridge to grab everything you could: pancake mix, butter, eggs, sausage, bacon, bread, the entire works to feed an entire crew of Navy fighter pilots.

“You’re not a morning person,”

You almost didn’t recognize Bob’s voice this early in the morning–or was this still considered the night? It was lower, lower than you had ever heard it before, and raspy in that way that most voices were when you’ve just been pulled from sleep. The sound itself sent a shot of heat through your veins and your lower body. No one’s voice was allowed to sound that hot–it should be criminal for a voice in general to be that hot.

He was leaning against the island counter, a sleepy little smile on his lips. His ‘Dagger Squad’ t-shirt hung from his frame, a funny gift you’d given the entire group for Christmas the year before. You watched with your own little smile as he rubbed at his eyes from under his glasses, which were sitting just slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, and as he ran his hand then through his hair to try and flatten it out.

It was almost inevitable the way your eyes trailed downward, though, as he stretched. That navy blue shirt rode up just slightly, letting your eyes feast upon the sight that was Bob’s well-concealed abs and defined V-line that ran beneath the edge of his boxers. You hated the way your mouth almost dropped open at the sight as you ogled him like he was a museum sculpture, modeled to perfection. It took every ounce of willpower in your body to not eye up the bulge in his boxers, either.

You caught his own eyes as they, too, traveled along your body wordlessly. Over Bradley’s oversized t-shirt that was just barely covering your ass–which was already barely concealed by your black, lace panties–and down the expanse of your bare legs. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, you could tell there was a blush coating his cheeks as he tried to look anywhere but at you, but you knew you were sporting a similar red on your cheeks.

“I’m not, but I crashed so early last night I couldn’t sleep anymore. But last I checked, you aren’t a morning person either,” you shot back at him, turning back to the counter before you and rifling through the ingredients, reaching over to flip on the stovetop and arrange your pans. Anything to not think about the work of art that was Bob Floyd. “Except for work, that is.”

“T-That’s true. Guess I forgot to turn my work alarm off, though, because it went off a few minutes ago. Rooming with Fanboy and Payback, and I didn’t want to wake them, so I just came out here,”

With your back still turned to Bob, you smirked slightly to yourself. You could only assume that Bob’s alarm being on was no accident, and reminded yourself to give Mickey a sly ‘thank you’ later for his ingenious plan.

“Lord knows those two will be cranky if you wake them up this early,” you shared a laugh as you glanced back at Bob, nodding him over. “Since you’re up, come help me.”

He obliged, coming to stand right by your side at the countertop. The kitchen wasn’t small by any means, but Bob had placed himself directly at your side, edges of your arms just barely brushing one another, as you moved ingredients around before you both.

“Breakfast for the squad?”

“I typically do this on Bradley’s birthday. At least, when we’ve been in the same city over the years. If I’m already up, though, I might as well do it today instead of getting up early again on his actual birthday,” you explained as Bob held the glass bowl in front of you so that you could mix together the pancake mix with just a few cups of water. “It was a tradition our mom started when we were really little. I always got a cookie cake with a fun design, and Bradley always got breakfast.”

There was silence in the kitchen for a moment, just the quiet little hum of the gas stove as it heated the pans. Suddenly, Bob’s arm found its way around your shoulders, tugging you into his side with a press of his lips to your hairline.

“She’d be really proud of you two,”

Leave it to Bob Floyd to have you choked up before it was even 6 in the morning. Neither you nor Bradley talked about your mother often; it was still a touchy subject, but the squad knew the story. Bob must have seen it; the tension in your shoulders, the slight hint of melancholy that trickled into your tone at the memory. Bob knew you too well, better than anyone besides maybe your own brother.

When the guy at the Hard Deck months ago was flirting with you until you were ready to punch him, it was Bob who came to your rescue, noticing your discomfort from a mile away. The day you’d lost a patient, a young stray dog your coworker had found abandoned on the side of the road, and came into the Hard Deck after as if everything was fine. Bob had pulled you outside, simply took you in his arms, and let you weep without even needing to know what happened. At Maverick’s birthday party at his shared home with Penny, it was Bob who took your hand gingerly in his with a squeeze when you saw the photo hanging on the wall of your father.

Bob Floyd could read you like an open book. You weren’t sure if you had left the pages open for him to read, or if he just truly knew you that well.

You let yourself lean into the feeling of him for a moment, wrapped up in the warmth and the way his arm felt like it belonged around your shoulders and that lingering heat from his kiss to your skin, before you dug your finger into his side until he laughed, swatting you away as you wore matching grins.

“Hey-!”

“No making me sad,” he only laughed again as you waved your spatula threateningly in his direction, his hand gently moving it out of his face. “There will be no sadness in my kitchen!”

“Oh, my apologies, your highness,” he gave a mock bow that had you rolling your eyes, even as your lips quirked up at the sight, before he fell into place beside you at the stove to lay the sausage and bacon in a pan while you flipped pancakes. “We ever tell you about the time Hangman tried to make us breakfast?”

“Hangman, doing something nice for you guys?” you teased, flipping the pancakes on the pan in front of you before piling them onto the plate next to you on the counter. “You probably didn’t tell me because it didn’t happen.”

“We would’ve been better off if it didn’t happen, actually,” Bob laughed out, reaching around you to grab another packet of bacon from the counter, his hand just barely grazing along your arm as a shiver shot down your spine. “He has t-this belgian waffle maker in his kitchen, right? But he’s never used it, it was a gift from his sister. So I had to teach him how to use the thing. He gets it flipped, until I realized that he used two cups of mix…and 6 cups of water.”

“Wait, hold on, 6 cups of water-?”

“Runniest waffles you’ve ever seen,” Bob explained, dumping the cooked sausage and bacon onto the plate next to him at the stove. “The mix came pouring out of the sides of the machine. I’m telling him to flip it back, but he’s not listening and instead hits the damn thing so hard it gets jammed. Suddenly, t-the thing is smoking and burning the batter inside and the fire alarm is blaring. Had to evacuate the entire apartment complex because of it.”

You threw your head back laughing for a moment, just picturing the absolute chaos that was probably happening in that kitchen that day. Bob laughed with you, leaning into your side until your arms were pressed right against one another.

“This is why, anytime I’ve cooked around him, I tell him to stay out of my kitchen,” Bob was still laughing. You watched him for a moment, gaze flickering to the bowl of mix beside you, before back to him as your lips quirked into a smirk. “At least none of you started a food fight…not like I’m going to.”

“Like you’re going-”

Bob didn’t get to finish his sentence before your hand, slathered in pancake mix, ran across the lower half of his face. You were conscious of his glasses, you always were.

His eyes were wide as he turned to stare at you. Your non-mix covered hand instead covered your mouth, trying to conceal the cascade of giggles that were endlessly pouring out of you at the sight of him. His shock was gone not long after seeing you laugh, his batter covered lips spreading into a grin of his own as he reached for the glass bowl himself.

“...alright, war it is,”

Your shriek was still concealed by your own hand as you darted around the island counter behind you, using it as a barrier between yourself and Bob. He was laughing uncontrollably, hand covered in mix that was dripping down onto the wooden floor beneath your feet, and you felt yourself stuck there for a moment, reveling in the domesticity of the situation.

So many of your dreams had been of moments like this. There was one, once, just like this where you and Bob chased one another around the kitchen in the dim refrigerator light. There had been another dream, the same setting as before, but instead you were dancing in his arms as “The Way You Look Tonight” played off one of your phones in the distance. Late night drives, stargazing nights on the beach, dinner dates in restaurants by the shoreline. Many of the dreams were you, curled up in his arms on a couch as some movie played aimlessly in the background. Those dreams always took a turn, from innocent to downright filthy, as those large hands you’d spent too many late nights getting yourself off to the thought of would drift up your calves, your thighs, and then finally touch you right where you wished he would.

The middle of a food fight–one you had initiated–was the worst place to daydream about the man in front of you. Suddenly, Bob wasn’t in front of you, but at your side. Another playful shriek left your lips, this time not muddled by your hand, as Bob’s arms encircled your waist and spun you around. Pinned against his body and the fridge, your laughter never stopped as Bob’s hand covered in pancake batter ran over your face, from your forehead to your chin as the tasteless batter seeped past your lips and across your tongue.

“I concede, you win this war,” your giggles had turned soft. Both of your hands were wiping at your eyes, trying to keep stray bits of batter from sneaking their way into your eyes. Bob laughed with you, his hand still covered in batter trying to help, but ultimately just making the situation worse than it already was.

“No longer certain that one ever does win a war, I am,” Bob’s comment came under his breath, but he was close enough that you heard it loud and clear. Even through the batter smeared on his face, you could see the red seeping into his cheeks as you deadpanned at him.

“Robert, did you seriously just quote Star Wars to me?”

“I-I’d prefer if we pretended I didn’t just do that,” he shook his head, laughing at himself as a smile grew across your face. “Kind of embarrassed that I did.”

Your laughter mixed with his as you wiped at the batter on Bob’s face, clearing it from his skin. His gaze was trained on you, watching your every movement, as you cleared what you could from his skin. You could feel the sharp intake of breath he had the second your fingers ghosted over his lips, swiping the mixture from his skin, as Mickey’s voice played in the back of your head.

Aren’t you tired of not being able to call him yours

Bob’s breath audibly hitched again as you leaned up, lips brushing over his skin and against the corner of his mouth as your hand cupped his pancake mix covered cheek. You could almost feel the burn in his skin as, with a shot of confidence only found in the dead of night, your tongue poked out to rid his pale skin of the batter streaked along his face.

The hold of his hand, gripped onto your hip, grew tighter as you were suddenly made aware of it. Bradley’s old t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the expanse of your skin to Bob’s hand. The large appendage engulfed your hip, fingers pressing into you and leaving behind a trail of heat as his thumb drew circles into your skin, catching on the string of fabric that barely separated your body from his.

The bulge you tried not to look at before was making itself very known right now, pressed into the skin of your thigh in the close proximity you had found yourself in with Bob. As you pulled your lips from his skin, you had to force yourself to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat as your brain grappled with the sheer size of what was pressing against you now.

“Well…you’re lucky you’re cute,” the second you pulled back enough to look in Bob’s eyes, heat shot down to your core. Feral, hungry, you weren’t sure what the look was that was dancing across those blue irises. You could feel his groan in your own skin as his grip on your hip tightened, his teeth biting into his bottom lip.

“Y-You can’t do that. You can’t look at me like that,”

“Like what?”

“Like you like me,”

“I do…and I know that you know that. Just like I know that you like me, too,” you breathed out as your fingers danced along his jawline lightly. “So I’m just left wondering why you don’t do something about it.”

His dilated pupils stayed locked on you for a moment, teeth still sunken into his bottom lip, before his eyes cast a glance toward the direction of the living room. As if waiting for someone to appear. A sigh left his lips as he leaned forward, resting his head against the fridge behind you as his breath ghosted just over the shell of your ear. Your hand trailed down from his jaw, resting now over his chest. His heartbeat was quickened, you could feel the rhythmic beat beneath your hand, and you knew your’s matched his.

“Because there’s someone in the other room that will kill me if I do,”

“Maybe, but it’s really not fair if he controls our lives,” it took a moment for you to speak, dancing on the edge of pushing yourself over that line and making the leap you’d been too afraid to make for so long now. “It only matters if we’re happy, right?”

Bob moved back to his original position, his forehead just barely grazing yours as you looked down. Those dilated eyes behind those beautiful glasses darted between your lips, your eyes, and then finally back down to your lips, before an easy smile spread across his lips. His hand on your bare waist tightened, and a flurry of butterflies shot through your stomach and into your chest.

“You’re right-”

“Hot DAMN is that bacon I smell?”

The moment was shattered in an instant. Bob’s hand left your waist, space put between you both as he leaned against the island counter, leaving your back pressed against the fridge. A deep sigh left your body, almost emanating from your bones and soul itself, as you looked to the ceiling and cursed whatever forces were keeping you and this man apart.

Of course, it was Jake Seresin that rounded the corner into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes glancing between your pancake covered face, to Bob’s pancake covered face and his terrible attempt at hiding his boner from his teammate. His signature smirk, the one he shot both the ladies and every time he was ready to be a smartass, crossed his lips in an instant.

“Whoa there, didn’t know I was interrupting something. If you want to bring food into the bedroom, might I suggest actually trying that out in a bedroom next time?”

The glare you shot him was downright murderous as Jake only laughed. Bob retreated back to the stove, clearing the rest of the food onto plates with his back turned as Jake shoved you out of the way of the fridge with his hip to get himself a drink.

“Hangman, have I mentioned that I fucking hate you?”

“No, right now you should love me for keeping you two from playing hide the zucchini in the middle of the kitchen,” you could hear the short laugh that snuck past Bob’s lips at the comment, and you couldn’t help the quirk in your own lips at the comment. Hangman just shot you a wink as he passed by you. “Especially when your brother is going to walk in here any second now.”

“...oh,”

“Yeah, oh. Never say I hang you people out to dry ever again, I just kept this entire trip from imploding,”

❤︎

“Wait…so you two finally almost kissed?”

“Don’t ignore that almost part, Nat, that’s the most annoying part,”

Bradley had filled your first two days at the lakehouse with a packed itinerary. An entire day on your own private stretch of beach, followed by another dinner on the grill courtesy of Coyote’s masterful grill skills. The second day he never let you leave the water, crowding you all onto the boat that came with the house and dragging you out onto the lake.

“I just have to say, I’ve been doing the best I can,” Mickey chimed in, throwing his hands up in a surrender motion. “Your brother’s meticulous schedule has made it almost impossible to get you and Bob time alone.”

You huffed out a laugh, turning the page of your book. Your brother had, finally, allowed you all a day of nothing planned, and you had chosen to spend most of the afternoon lounging on the top floor balcony seating area with a good book. Perfect views of the water, the boats, the trees, and nothing but a beautiful breeze and plenty of sun.

“It’s okay, it’s still appreciated,” Natasha and Mickey were seated around the outdoor table with you, curled up on their own respective patio chairs. You’d claimed the couch, tucking your legs up under you on the cushion and letting the crochet cover-up over the top of your bikini set drape around your legs. “It’s annoying, but…I don’t know, something feels different now. Like that moment changed something. Turning his alarm on was a nice touch, though, Mick, I have to give you props there.”

“You turned that on?” Natasha shot Mickey an incredulous look, reaching over to whack him on the shoulder as he dramatically acted as if she’d really wounded him. “I’ve been making fun of him the last two days for that, Fanboy!”

“I woke up to go pee and heard little chickie over there in the kitchen,” Mickey tried to defend himself. “So, with Bradley fast asleep, I used Bob’s passcode and then set his alarm. Ingenious idea, if I do say so myself!”

You glance up from your book, eyebrows raised in question as you looked at your best friend.

“You know Bob’s password?”

“Most of us do,” it was Nat who chimed in this time, a smirk on her face as she took a sip of her drink. “It’s Bradley’s birthday.”

It was impossible to hold back the laugh that you let out at that statement.

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me that Bob’s passcode is my brother’s birthday-”

“Yeah, because it’s the day you two met,”

That…you weren’t expecting that. Mickey’s simple statement had you pausing, racking your brain for something to say. You weren’t able to speak before your best friends were hunched over, grabbing at one another’s arms as they laughed so loudly you were surprised the entire lake couldn’t hear you three.

“Jesus, Mick, I think you broke her with that!” Natasha’s laughter wouldn’t stop as she wiped at the stray tear that managed to spill in her laughter. Mickey simply picked up his water, trying to drink it through his own laughter.

“Did you see the way her brain literally stopped working? I think she started buffering the second her skin turned as red as a damn tomato!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both fucking comedians,” you shot back at them, grabbing one of the chips on your plate from the patio table and tossing it in their direction.

There was a yell from somewhere downstairs that sounded like Reuben, telling the two of them to hurry up. He’d, somehow, coerced the two of them into joining him for an hour trip back into the heart of San Bernardino to go to the local mall. He claimed he just wanted to look around, but you had a sneaking suspicion Payback had managed to forget to buy Bradley a birthday present for the following day’s celebration.

“Alright, enjoy your book, baby Roo,” you huffed out a fake laugh, shooting your smiling friends a middle finger that they waved off. “And just know: we weren’t kidding. That really is why that’s Bob’s passcode.”

That thought floated through your head, even as you tried to relax in the warm California sun and read your book. It brought a smile to your face, one that you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Instead, you tried to just focus on the romance playing out in your book.

The couple were dancing together at a wedding, albeit not traditionally given the man’s medical condition. She talked about how in any other timeline, he would’ve never noticed her. He agrees, but says it’s because he used to be ‘such an arse’ and she laughs and agrees with him. Then, he gets a look on his face that she can’t stop staring at, and he tells her that she is the only thing that makes him want to get up in the morning. The most blatant confession of ‘I love you’ without having to say the words.

“Thought you told me that was a sad book?”

Ripped out of the moment, you glance up from your book to Bob Floyd himself. He was leaning against the back of your patio couch, blocking the sun from your eyes, and smiling down at you in his swim trunks and University of Montana t-shirt. You gave him an unimpressed look, but smiled nonetheless at just the sight of him.

“It is, but it’s still beautiful. And one of my favorite books,”

“You just reread it last month, didn’t you?”

“Well, now you just sound like a stalker, Floyd,” he laughed, standing up straight to let you situate yourself against the corner of the couch, bookmark tucked into your pages and book discarded to the other end of the couch. You eyed his outfit for a moment. “Where’s Brad dragging you boys off to?”

“Back out on the lake,” he nodded his head over the railing as you turned to look, seeing your brother working with Hangman and Coyote to get the boat ready to head back out onto the water. “Saw you sitting up here, t-thought I’d come check on you.”

“Always the gentleman,”

Bob smiled at that, leaning back down against the back of the couch so that he was just slightly closer to you now than before.

“Work hasn’t called to pester you yet?”

“I had a quick text from Taylor this morning, there was an older cat that she had some concerns about-” your eyes lit up as you snapped your fingers, pointing to Bob with an excited grin on your lips. “Oh! I never got to give you an update on the kittens the other day!”

“The feral ones some lady brought in?” he asked as you nodded.

“Healthy mom, seemed like she was once a housecat that either got abandoned or escaped. But seven healthy little kittens that we gave off to one of our foster families we usually work with,” your grin turned into a smirk. “And guess what? Six boys and one girl!”

Bob stared at you for just a moment, doing the math in his head, before hanging his head with a dramatic sigh.

“Chickie, don’t tell me-”

“There were two brothers that kept fighting with one another, so they obviously had to be named Rooster and Hangman,” Bob’s laughter was contagious, his entire body shaking as he looked up at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes as you hand settled on his forearm over the edge of the couch. “Hangman had a little bit of a shadow always following him, ready to back him up, so that obviously was Coyote. Two of the other brothers were like two peas in a pod, so they were easily Fanboy and Payback. The lone girl? Every time she made her presence known, the boys stopped fighting, so even if Phoenix weren’t the only girl in your squad, that little girl would’ve gotten her name from her.”

“And the last kitten?” Bob asked.

“Oh, he was my favorite. A perfect little angel,” your grin grew as your hand left Bob’s arm. His eyes followed your movements, locked in as your finger traced the edges of his glasses, barely skimming over the skin of his cheeks as you went. “The strangest little markings, like two big, black circles around his eyes, as if he were wearing glasses. It just made sense that we named that little angel Bob.”

Your hand fell back down, resting on top of Bob’s forearm again as you smiled sheepishly toward him. His own grin only grew, his other hand landing on top of yours with a squeeze.

“W-Was he cute?”

“Easily the cutest one of the bunch,” you replied with ease. “Possibly the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen.”

Bob laughed again, his hand engulfing yours with another affectionate squeeze that had your heart feelings as if it was tying itself in knots.

“Are you still talking about the kittens here?”

“Hm, maybe, who knows-”

“BOB! Get your ass down here!”

You rolled your eyes. Even when your brother didn’t realize he was being a cockblock, he was. Though if he knew he was interrupting a moment, he’d probably jump up and click his heels together like a lucky little leprechaun.

Bob chuckled at your brother’s insistence. Your eyes never left him as he hesitated for just a moment, before squeezing your hand one again and leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. The second his lips made contact with your skin, your eyes shut in just pure bliss as that familiar flutter erupted in your chest as you leaned into the feeling that was gone all too soon.

“I SAW THAT FLOYD!”

You both shared a laugh before Bob was gone off the deck in an instant, and you immediately missed his presence. When you dared to turn around and look toward the dock, your brother was shooting you a glare that you happily gave him the middle finger for, while Hangman and Coyote were making kissy faces and many lewd gestures in your direction from behind his back the entire time.

That little kiss weighed heavily on you the rest of the day. That cord of tension in your chest, the one tying you to Bob, was on the verge of snapping. You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

Since Payback, Fanboy, and Phoenix had already been in the city, Bradley had tasked them with bringing back pizza as he proclaimed a movie night in the living room on the giant flatscreen. They’d obliged, walking through the door of the house hours later with a stack of pizza boxes almost half the size of Phoenix herself.

“The Hangover? Seriously, Rooster, that’s so basic,” Jake complained with a groan from his place on one end of the sectional, plate of pizza and a beer in his hands as everyone took their places around the living room. “Thought you had better taste?”

“It’s my birthday trip, Bagman, I get to pick the movie,” Bradley shot back, settling down on the loveseat next to the sectional sofa with Phoenix, taking his plate from her as he queued up the movie on Netflix. “Not all of us want to watch chick flicks or 2000s romance movies all the time, I get enough of that with chickie.”

You shot him a fake laugh from across the room, ducking out of the kitchen with your own plate of pizza and beer. Bradley nodded toward the wall next to you before you could get too far, and you took the hint, flipping the light switch to plunge the living room into darkness. The only light now was the setting sun and the moon creeping into the sky from the windows.

“I’m not a chick flick guy,” Hangman scoffed, waving off Bradley’s comment as Payback settled on the couch next to him.

“Dude,” Bradley shot him an unimpressed look. “I caught you crying over Bridget Jones’s Diary, like, three weeks ago. Don’t even try it.”

There was a chorus of laughter through the room as Hangman mumbled something that nobody caught. You rounded the couch, falling into the open space on the opposite end of the section beside Bob, stretching out your legs on the chaise before you.

Coyote and Fanboy entered the room last just as Bradley started the movie. While Javy took the open space on the floor near Hangman’s end to use the couch as a cushion, Mickey stole the pillow out from behind your back, plopping it down right where your legs were as he shot a smirk at you.

“Mind moving your legs so I can lie down?” you shot him an incredulous look, until he gave both you and Bob an overexaggerated wink.

Ah, another ploy by him.

Bradley always locked into movies hard whenever they were on, which worked in your favor at this moment. You curled your legs into your chest, allowing Mickey to lie across the chaise with another wink in your direction. The second you glanced at Bob, he lifted the blanket across his lap with a tiny smile, and you lay your legs out across his lap without hesitation.

The sun set, plunging the room into true darkness, just 20 minutes into the movie. Coyote had volunteered to do the clean up, clearing the plates and bottles from around the room while Jake and Bradley argued over who was the best character in this movie.

With hands now free, you tucked yourself further under the blanket that Bob had laid out across you both. Bob too tucked his hands under the warmth of the blanket, but they hovered there for just a moment, until his brain seemed to make up his mind and they rested against the skin of your own legs.

The movie was an afterthought in your mind at that moment, even as your eyes stayed locked on the screen. Every thought that ran through your head was about Bob’s hands. Their size, the way they engulfed your skin, and spread heat through every inch of their touch. The soft circles he drew into your knee, sending a small shiver straight through your bones that was complemented by the heat of his touch.

You couldn’t help but let your mind drift further, wondering what that delicious heat of his hands would feel like if they just drifted further up your legs. If they splayed out across your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh like they had dug into your hip so early in the morning in the kitchen. What it would feel like for his featherlight touch to drift up the inner portion of your thigh, to graze over the edge of your sleep shorts to the spot you had dreamed about feeling him touch. Where you’d dreamed of the pleasure he could bring you from just one little touch to the most sensitive part of your skin.

Bob’s gaze turned to you in the dark of the room, and you looked back at him. Another shiver shot up your spine, goosebumps coating your skin, and you weren’t sure if it was from the chill of the air conditioning in the room or from that soft, adoring look Bob Floyd had every time he looked at you. He could feel the goosebumps under his own hands; you knew he could. His teeth bit into his bottom lip in contemplation, and action you couldn’t look away from, before his eyes flickered to Bradley, still engrossed in the movie.

In the shroud of darkness in that living room, spurred by Bradley’s inability to look away from his movie of choice, Bob’s hands left your legs. His arm wound around your waist, tugging you closer until you were sitting directly in his lap, legs curled up beside him. Your arms wound their own way around his shoulders, linking together at the nape of his neck as your fingers twirled through the strands of hair, tickling the skin there. Your eyes drifted to Bradley, who was still oblivious, as Bob draped the blanket further over both of you. His hands settled against you, one splayed across your hip while the other found its home on your thigh, sending heat just a short distance straight to your core as those thoughts filtered through your head once again.

Bob’s head leaned toward yours, his nose and the edge of his glasses just barely grazing along the edge of your hairline. You glanced at Mickey, who was looking back at you both with a triumphant grin. Even Hangman was giving you a thumbs-up from down the couch, which was met with your middle finger once more from behind Bob’s head. From the small rumble in the couch from his laughter, you knew he could see it even in the darkness.

Bob pressed another kiss into the side of your head, and you melted.

The movie was long forgotten to you the second you let your head rest in the space between Bob’s shoulder and his neck, your nose and lips brushing against his skin as you inhaled the scent of his cologne that you knew all too well: cypress and bayberry, the perfect sweet but earthy scent. You’d helped him pick the cologne out months ago. The second you said you liked the smell of it, Bob was at the counter purchasing it without ever smelling it for himself.

In Bob’s arms, wrapped in the heat of him and listening to the gentle beating of his pulse that could’ve lulled you to sleep, you realized there was no other place you wanted to be. You also were about ready to chew your over-protective brother out for keeping you from this man as long as he had.

❤︎

“I hope you all know I AM judging these presents and there will be an official ranking from best to worst after,”

The sun had just disappeared beyond the horizon on Bradley’s birthday, a day full of non-stop celebration. Hangman had been the one to wake up early that morning and make breakfast, almost burning the lodge down. When Bob met your eyes with an ‘I told you so’ look across the room as he and Coyote opened every window to fan out the smoke from the stove pans, you couldn’t help but break down into laughter. Another afternoon spent on the boat, followed by a fancy dinner in the nearby town, had all wound down to now.

Mickey had drug the firepit out of the lodge’s garage, situating it on the private stretch of beach belonging to the home. The teal Adirondack chairs littering the sand were situated in a circle around the fire Mickey had put himself in charge of attending to, and everyone had settled in.

Your chair was placed directly next to Bradley’s, a request by him so that you could inspect each of the gifts placed at his side with him.

“Well, I say we go with the best gift first, which is obviously mine,” Jake said, sitting across the fire pit and gesturing toward the comically large green bag placed at Bradley’s feet. “It’s the one that’s quite large, just saying.”

“Compensating much?” Natasha snuck in her comment from her chair beside him, getting a cloud of sand kicked up into her lap that she happily kicked back at him.

You shook your head at their little spat, sipping on your beer as you pulled your feet up onto the chair. The lake breeze floated through the early night, providing a perfect contrast for the heat that still lingered in the air. Your arms sat wrapped around your knees as your glance found Bob’s, like it always did. He was sitting directly across from you, the orange glow of the flashes accenting his face and painting it in beautiful shades that reflected off his glasses. He shot you a tiny smile, and you hated the way even something so little had such an effect on you.

“Jake, seriously dude?” Bradley’s voice sounded done with Hangman, even as he was trying to conceal his laughter. Your gaze snapped back over to your brother as he held a very tiny bag that sat within the larger bag, reaching inside to pull out a circular, almost rubber-like object. “Is this a gag gift–did you seriously buy me a fucking cock ring?”

The group erupted into laughter. Bob and Natasha both almost tipped backward in their chairs from laughing so hard. Javy was pacing the sand, waving his hands in the air, and just repeating ‘nah, I’m done’ over and over again. Mickey was busy patting Reuban’s back as he coughed into the sand, having spit out his beer and choked on the air that rushed into his lungs. You simply covered your mouth, trying to contain your laughter while you could barely look in your brother’s direction. Jake just sat with a smug look on his face.

“You haven’t gotten any action in a while, thought this could…spice things up for your right hand,” he shot him a wink with that damn heart-breaking smirk on his lips. “Your real gift is, I told Maverick I’ll do all your paperwork for the next few weeks, so…you’re welcome.”

“Yeah, such a sweet gift that’s for sure going at the bottom of the list…next!”

Bradley took his time opening every gift that sat by his side. Natasha had played it safe, just a few new pairs of button-ups that she joked would ‘never stay buttoned up’ and a new pair of aviators. Fanboy and Coyote had joined together to get Bradley a brand new golf club set, one that poor Mickey had to run off to get from the garage so it wouldn’t have ruined the surprise.

Payback’s gift bag had some books that your brother had been wanting to read for a while, along with another bottle of the cologne he typically wore. He’d forgotten to take the price tag off the bag, though, so when you shot him a look and he avoided your gaze with a fake whistle, you knew you were correct about why he suddenly wanted to run into town the day before.

“Little chickie’s gift comes in an envelope,” Bradley announced to the group, proudly showing off the little letter envelope in his hand before tearing into it to get to the card. “As my sister, I’m immediately expecting great things from you and will judge this gift harshly.”

You just watched from behind your beer bottle, using it to mask your smirk as Bradley flipped the card open, and his mouth dropped in an instant.

“Holy shit…”

“Don’t leave us hanging, Rooster! What is it?”

“Suspense is killing us, dude!”

“Los Angeles Chargers tickets?” Bradley turned to you with wide eyes, and a laugh tumbled from your lips at the look on his face.

“I know you’ve been dying to go for a while, so I figured I’d be the world’s greatest sister. 50-yard line, home team side, down in the 100 section,”

Bradley was at your side in a second, leaning down over the side of the chair to wrap you in a hug, rustling your hair and pressing a kiss to the side of your head before you shoved him off with a laugh.

“Quick question,” Hangman chimed in from across the beach. “Do those tickets come with a ‘must take Baby Roo’ stipulation, or…?”

“Bagman, I’m taking Mav to this game before I’m taking you,” Bradley shot back as another round of laughter echoed through the group. He picked up the final bag by his chair, a light blue in color, and pointed across the fire toward Bob. “You’re up, Bobby! Let’s see if you can beat little chickie.”

Your eyes found Bob again, head resting against your hand, and you just watched. Watching him was one of your favorite things. The little quirk in his lips when he smiled, those expressive blue eyes that were always blown wide like a baby deer. Even watching him now, as he seemed to watch Bradley nervously, your thoughts drifted back to all those little moments.

The feel of his hand on your waist. The gentleness that he touched you with, subconsciously knowing he had permission to but still walking the line until you gave him the go-ahead. That soft look in his eyes, that one he seemed to have reserved only for you. The second you’d locked eyes in the Hard Deck that day, you knew you were a goner, but somewhere along the way…you weren’t sure when it became love, but it did.

Loving him quietly was killing you.

“Sis…”

Bradley’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. All eyes were trained on you, and Bob’s nervous smile was turned in your direction now. You whipped around to face Bradley, a stray tear falling down his cheek that had you jumping out of your seat within a second. But then, he turned the picture frame in his hands around, and your breath caught.

You’d only ever seen Nick Bradshaw, your father, in photos. He’d passed away while you were still a little bun in the oven, and there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t give in this world to meet him. But you knew what he looked like; you carried a photo of him with you everywhere. That light brown hair that looked almost blonde in certain lights, those big, brown eyes that were the same color as the chocolate bars you loved so much. He was almost always in a Hawaiian shirt, buttons undone, when he wasn’t in his flight suit. You knew where Bradley got it from.

Carole Bradshaw, on the other hand, you knew her like the back of your hand. That light blonde hair and bangs she’d sported her entire life, barely ever letting her hair grow past your shoulders. She let it grow that long just once when you were in middle school, and complained about it every day. Those pale blue eyes, such a stark contrast to your father’s darker ones, always looked down on you in pure adoration and affection. She loved color just as much as your father, you swore every dress in her closet was colorful and patterned.

One gone before you even graced the world, and one gone too soon. You never got to have a photo with them both, never got to stand beside your father for homecoming, prom, or graduation photos. Bradley had so many photos from when he was little with your father, but he always said how he wished you were in them, too. He never spoke it out loud, but you know he wished that his father was beside him in his own prom pictures, or holding his high school diploma with him.

But now, in the frame in Bradley’s hand, you both had what you never did. What you had always wanted.

The picture of you and Bradley had been taken two months ago, another night out at the Hard Deck. Natasha had taken it, while Bob had convinced you to put on Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt. He had stood behind Natasha, positioning you and your brother against the Hard Deck’s patio railing, the ocean and sunset the perfect backdrop.

This was that photo, but different. Wrapped around your other side was your father, light brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, mustache that matched Bradley’s, and his very own Hawaiian shirt to match the one on your shoulders. His arm lay around your shoulders, hugging you to him as your other arm was wrapped around your brother. Your mother stood at Bradley’s side, just as you always remembered her. Blonde hair hitting just below her ears, bangs styled to perfection, soft smile on her lips, and hands wrapped around Bradley’s arm as the colorful plaid pattern of her dress stuck out.

The perfect family photo you had never had, taken as if their ghosts had been beside you that night, posing along with you.

“Y-You both just always talk about them, about how you miss them. How you wished you had a photo like this,” Bob chimed in from across the fire pit, a slight stutter to his words, and he cleared his throat. “I found someone who kind of specializes in things like this…thought it was time you guys finally had a Bradshaw family photo.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off your parents, even as Bradley moved the photo into your hand completely, his feet moving through the sand. That black frame was hugged tightly to your chest as you looked up, seeing Bradley hugging Bob to him tightly, patting him on the back over and over as he mumbled something to him.

Bob’s gaze caught yours, and all you could muster was a watery smile as you looked at him, letting a single tear slip past your defenses. His eyes seemed to soften upon seeing that, mouthing something along the lines of ‘you’re okay’ in your direction.

“Well, I think we all know who’s at the top of Bradley’s gift tier list…”

Hangman’s comment didn’t matter, nor did the laughter of your friends. All that mattered to you was the frame in your hands, and the man who had so graciously thought of it and gifted it to not just your brother, but to you.

You weren’t sure when you quite fell in love with Bob Floyd, but in this moment, you knew there was no man in this world you could ever love more.

That thought stuck with you as the night wore on. The fire was put out, the chairs left buried in the sand, all as the moon rose higher into the sky. Most of the team huddled in the game room, conversing about something Maverick had texted them earlier in the day, and laying out the plans for the hike around the lake trails that would begin the following morning while engaged in an intense game of pool. Bob wasn’t with them, though, off somewhere else in the house.

You were alone in your shared room with Natasha, sorting through both of your piles of dirty clothing so that you could throw them in the wash the following morning. Those thoughts wouldn’t leave your mind, of Bob and the love that was bursting out of your chest at the seams, as you mindlessly sorted through the clothing. There were three quick raps on the doorframe, and you tilted your head up to see Mickey leaning against it with a grin.

“Convinced your brother we needed more alcohol,” he informed you. “There’s a 24-hour store in the little town down the road where we had dinner, so we’re going to run out and grab some stuff. Might be done in 20, maybe 30 minutes…”

You simply gave him a nod as he trailed off, turning your attention back to the clothing in front of you.

“Sounds good, be safe,”

He hummed in response, going quiet for just a moment.

“I know you, chickie. I know what’s going on in your head. I’m taking your brother out of the house for half an hour,” you glanced back at him again just as he was disappearing around the corner with a smirk and a wink. “Bob’s in the hot tub, if you’re not too busy with your dirty laundry.”

His words hung there in the air as your gaze flickered over to your suitcase. Sitting right on top was one of the bikinis you had yet to wear: a tinier, black string one, much more suitable for tanning than swimming. But Mickey’s words hung in your head, the softness of Bob’s stare was burned into your memory, and those butterflies were beating against your ribcage.

Moments later, there was a towel wrapped around your body as you padded out into the quiet living room. The overhead lights were off, just the light of the TV and the one above the stove in the kitchen illuminated the area. You could hear your friends off down the hallway, laughing in the game room, but your mind was set on your destination.

The lower-level patio door was already cracked open, letting the cool nighttime breeze flow into the house as you stepped into the doorway. The moon shone down over the lake, but your gaze was too busy admiring the man resting in the hot tub in the corner of the patio.

The patio light was off, leaving just the blue shine from the lights in the water to reflect back on Bob. For once, his shirt was off, half of his torso buried in the steaming water. His head hung back against the edge of the circular tub, resting his eyes and occasionally wiping at the steam that fogged his glasses. That blue light illuminated him, every inch of his body, and highlighted every dip and crevice along his collarbone that your eyes trailed along as if they were a map. He looked so beautiful, so peaceful in this light with just the faint sound of the hot tub's jets ringing through the air.

“Have room for another?”

Bob’s head shot up, mouth falling open just slightly as he reached for his towel hanging off the side of the tub, wiping the fog from his glasses. He relaxed just a bit at the sight of you, lips pulling into a soft grin.

“Always,”

Your eyes never left his as you let the towel fall, tossing it off to the other side of the patio to the hammock swinging in the gentle breeze. Bob’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and you could see his eyes trail down your body. Over your neck, your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts in the bathing suit that did nothing for modesty, down your hips to the strings just barely hanging on at the sides, before back up to your eyes.

Neither of your gazes moved as you settled into the hot tub across from him, the heat of the water warming your skin in seconds. It was barely meant for two people, your knees brushing in the middle as you took your seat. Bob’s legs instantly parted, allowing yours to slot in between his own as you were caged between them. Only then, soaking in the steaming water, did you let your gaze trail away from him and out to the lake, to the shadows of the pine trees in the distance. That blue light illuminated you both, now, and it only seemed to make his blue eyes shine even brighter.

“That gift…felt more like a gift for both of us than just one for Bradley,”

You could hear his soft laughter, the way it stumbled slightly with the nerves running through him.

“It was too good an idea. D-Did…you like it?”

Your gaze found his again, voice low in the quiet night.

“I loved it,”

That cord of tension was back, tugging between you both in the most unbearable way. It almost hurt, how close yet how far Bob seemed at that moment. So, you toed your foot along that line, just barely dipping it across as you spoke again.

“You want to play a game?”

Bob quirked his head, like a puppy trying to understand its owner. Then, he nodded.

“Sure, why not?”

“The yes or no game,” you responded. “We ask each other questions, simple ones. Answer yes, or answer no. That’s all.”

“Sounds…e-easy enough,”

“Good,” you took a deep breath, before shoving yourself fully over that invisible, mental line that had been drawn between you. “Do you like me?”

Bob didn’t seem shocked by the question. It’s like he already knew the second you settled into the water that the line between you both was gone, was blurred. He ran his hands over his thighs, taking in a deep breath, before giving you a small nod.

“Yes…and I think you know that. Do you…like me?”

“Yes, and I know that you know that,” he huffed out a short laugh at that, enough to bring a smile to his lips that had one growing on your own. “Do you want to follow my brother’s rules?”

“God no,” Bob laughed again, as if saying the words was finally releasing the tension from his shoulders that had been hanging there heavily for months. “Do you?”

“No. Never wanted to in the first place,” you gave a little shrug, stretching your arms out along the edge of the tub on either side of you as you watched him, that cord of tension hanging by the barest of threads. “So…why are you still doing what he says?”

Bob paused for a moment, just watching you, but that smile slipped into a tiny smirk.

“That…wasn’t a yes or no question,”

“Well, yes or no is going to get up about as far as the last year of hopeless pining and sneaky glances have gotten us, so forgive me,”

There was another shared laugh between you both before you fell into silence. Comfortable, but heavy, the weight of your words and the conversation at hand hanging in the air. Bob rolled his neck around, before taking in a deep breath as he found his words.

“Because…you’re Baby Roo, and he’s my best friend,” Bob gave a shrug, his hand drawing little circles in the water as he watched the water swirl around. “You walked into the bar that day, and I thought…fuck, I-I think the girl of my dreams just walked in. Then you talked, you joked like you’d known us for years, and sassed Hangman back with ease, and I knew I was so incredibly fucked. But he’d given us the talk upward of four times that week that you were off limits, that not a single one of us was allowed to make a move, no matter what.”

“He gave me the same talk, too,” you responded, giving him a tiny shrug of your own with a short laugh. “Told me all of you were off limits because you were his best friends. But I still walked into that bar and fell for you without even realizing I had.”

“You’re all he has, though. You’re the last thing he has, the most precious thing in the world to him. I couldn’t defy him like that,” Bob continued, letting out another laugh and running his soaked hand over the bottom of his face as he glanced at the ceiling, before looking back at you. “You are…the embodiment of sunshine. I-I could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored, because I never get tired of just being around you like I do others. You invade every one of my waking thoughts, every one of my dreams, and I can’t even pretend that I try to make them go away because I want them there. I get to have you in those thoughts when I know I shouldn’t, when I promised my best friend I wouldn’t look at you that way. But then you smile at me, you call me late at night and say you just want to hear my voice…and I can’t bring myself to push you away because, selfishly, I don’t want to. I can’t.”

You stared at him. There was nothing you could do in that moment, not when it was all finally out in the open. Your chest was tightened up into a knot, your stomach in your throat, but you also knew there was nothing but pure love shining through your eyes as you looked at him across the water.

Bob waited quietly, looking as if he were holding his breath. You could see his hands gripping onto his seat beneath the water, as he waited for you to speak.

“He’s all I have left, too. That’s why I’ve always listened to him, why I-I’ve always trusted him,” you leaned forward, hands dipping under the water to rest on your own seat as you gave him the smallest smile you could muster, nerves shining through as you stumbled over your words. “I might be his little sister, but I-I’m not a little girl. He can’t dictate my life forever, especially not when…not when it’s keeping me away from the man I’m so hopelessly in love with.”

That word hung in the air: love. The weight of it crashed over you, and you could see it crash over Bob in real time. The way his eyes widened just a fraction more in shock, before that shock dissipated into more of a disbelief. Then, you could physically see the way his pupils dilated, the way his eyes almost seemed to darken, as a flash of something new washed over them.

The hot water sloshed around the tub as Bob surged forward, invading your space. You sat still, letting it happen, as his arm wound its way around your waist and simply tugged. A small noise tumbled from your lips, something akin to a gasp, before Bob settled back into his seat on the far end of the tub. The hot water splashed up your torso as you instinctively spread your legs, letting them settle on either side of his waist.

The water began to calm, the little ripples and waves dying down, as you both sat there for a moment. Bob’s large, calloused hand splayed across your hip, fingers just barely toying with the string of your bikini bottoms, before they traveled downward, fingertips inching their way over the edges of your ass with a firm grip. Your hands left the water, trailing up the expanse of his bare chest that you took a moment to admire in the dim blue lighting. They settled on his broad shoulders, water dripping down his collarbones and back down into the pool of water you were submerged in. Bob’s other hand didn’t waste a second, cupping your jaw, thumb running over your lips with such intentionality that a shiver shot down your spine even in the heat of the water.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment you stepped into the Hard Deck,” his voice was low, soft, but there was a giddiness to it. It was even present in his smile, in his eyes as they trailed over every inch of you. “And if you don’t stop me right now…I’m going to do something that’s going to piss off your brother-”

“Piss him off, please,”

He didn’t need to be told again. His hand tugged, the one now fully cupping your ass pulled until you were fully seated across his lap, and Bob Floyd’s lips met yours. You sank into the feeling, and there was only one word moving through your mind: finally.

He kissed you with so much love and devotion woven into the very fabric of his movements. Every drag of his lips pressed in firmer, hotter, as if it was a brand against your own lips. Leaving his mark so that you’d never be able to forget the way he loved you.

“I love you,” Bob had all but moaned out, tongue just barely peeking past your lips as yours met back with him, hands sliding into his hair with a tug that had another moan tumbling from his lips. “Fuck–I love you–I’ve dreamt about this. So, so, so many times, baby.”

“I-I’ve dreamt about it too,” a sigh of pleasure tumbled past your lips as Bob’s lips left yours, a flash of heat through your skin at that simple little pet name. They trailed to your cheek, to your jaw, and down your neck in a trail of heat and saliva. Your hands in his hair held tighter, nails scratching against his scalp as Bob let out a groan against your pulse point, leaving a searing kiss over your neck. “Tell me…tell me what you dream about.”

The hand enveloping your ass pressed down hard, firmer, pushing your core directly against the bulge waiting for you, just you, in Bob’s lap. Another moan of pure ecstasy fell from your lips as the hand on your jaw quickly woven into your hair, tugging over so slightly. You didn’t hesitate to roll your hips after the initial contact, a shared moan falling between you both in the quiet of the patio as your barely covered core dragged itself over the bulge of his hardened shaft. Your breath quickened the second you did, holding onto Bob as if your life depended on it, as you felt the sheer size of him beneath you, a flood of arousal coursing through every inch of you.

“I-I’ve dreamt of this,” his words were breathy against your skin, hot, wet kisses still trailing up and down your neck, and down to your collarbone. His hand left your hair, trailing down your spine as he bit into the hollow of your neck, leaving a soothing kiss along the mark moments later. “You right–fuck–right here, falling apart. Ruining me. God, I-I was ruined the moment I met you.”

“So was I,” it felt like you had been deprived of all of the oxygen in your body, your words barely audible at the moment. One hand left Bob’s hair, trailing down his chest, over the toned abdomen he so expertly hid. You let your nails leave a trail over the defined lines of his abs. You felt his breath hitch against your collarbone, his kiss frozen in place, as your nails ghosted down the deep V-line that ran beneath his swim trunks, dipping just below the waistband. “Most of my dreams d-don’t have me on top, though. That’s usually you, ruining me for any other man for hours on end until I’m begging you to stop…even though I don’t really want you to.”

Bob’s head flicked up, glasses fogged, nose trailing over your side of your neck, up your jaw, before just barely nudging against yours. His lips were just a breath away from yours when you finally dipped your hand beneath the waistband of those swim trunks and held him in your hand.

God, you could feel how swollen he was just from this, and there was only maybe a third of him sitting in your hand. Not even the heat of the water could compare to the heat of him, of the way the skin of his throbbing, thick cock burned into your hand. Bob shakily exhaled, his lips barely ghosting over yours as your thumb just barely brushed over the head. His member twitched in your hand, his hips rutting up into your hand to feel you move, as his lips caught yours in a searing kiss that had you moaning into his mouth. His lips alone swallowed the sound, his teeth just barely grazing your bottom lip as the hand cupping your ass tugged your forward once more, dragging your core back along the bulge in his swim trunks.

“Fucking hell,” Bob groaned out, your hand still gripping him with a light squeeze. “Tell me this is real and Phoenix didn’t kill us in the air and send me to heaven.”

His words tore a laugh out of you, your hand sliding out of his trunks and back up his body until it rested against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm brought a tiny grin to your lips. Bob tugged you in again, forehead resting against yours, as those bright blue eyes shone with unconditional love when they looked at you.

“This is real, I promise. Late, but real,” he laughed with you that time, leaning in to steal yet another kiss from your lips, a flutter cascading through you at that sweet, timid, loving press of his lips to your own. “If Phoenix accidentally killed you now, I’d probably kill her in retaliation.”

“That’s fine, because Phoenix is thinking about just ending it herself given whatever the fuck she just had to walk in on,”

The third voice on the patio drew a yelp out of you. Bob tensed as you both jumped away from one another back to opposite ends of the hot tub as if the other person were on fire and you couldn’t get away fast enough. Your head whipped around to Phoenix leaning in the sliding glass doorway, a hand shielding her eyes from the sight of the two of you.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you muttered, running your hands down your face as you glanced at Bob. Messy hair, swollen kiss-bitten lips, and eyes as wide as saucers as he stumbled over his words.

“P-Phoenix, that uh–uh-that wasn’t-”

“Save it, Floyd,” she cut in, her voice clearly exasperated as she still kept her hand up so she didn’t have to look at either of you. “Look, I’ve been rooting for you to two say fuck it to Bradley’s bullshit but–this is a PATIO! Any one of us could’ve walked out here, my god! You couldn’t find a more private place to try and fuck each other?”

“Nat!” you groaned with a bit of a shout, seeing Bob out of the corner of your eyes shake his head, cheeks flushing an even darker red than before. You dragged yourself out of the water, stepping onto the wooden patio and walking past Natasha to wrap yourself in your towel, finally catching her eye. “The fuck did you even come out here for?”

“Mickey told me to come check on you two, see if the raging sexual tension had finally broken,” Nat finally dropped her hand now that you were wrapped in your towel. Bob was stumbling out of the hot tub himself at the other end of the deck, drying himself off with his own towel. “He and Bradley just pulled into the driveway, so you’re welcome. My god, imagine if he had walked out here instead to see you two well on your way to a homerun-”

You shoved past Natasha, cheeks flaring red at her laughter, her attention now turning to congratulating Bob on ‘making a move’ while you focused on getting into the shower before Bradley walked in to question why you and Bob were alone in a hot tub together.

Your brother was none the wiser to what had occurred the rest of the night, too engaged in his game of pool with the others over another round of beers to even think about it.

Then, there was you, lying in bed beside a fast-asleep Natasha, very much unable to not think about the hot tub. About every drag of Bob’s hands across your skin, at the heated trailing of his lips along your neck, at that cock you were desperate to feel pressing inside you-

Jesus Christ, you needed to sleep. You flipped onto your side with a sigh, grabbing your phone; 1 a.m., and you still couldn’t sleep. A soft groan tumbled from your lips as you flopped back onto your back again, before a foot from the other side of the bed reached out and kicked your shin under the covers.

“Chickie, I have been able to feel you tossing and turning for, like, two hours,” Natasha’s voice was muffled by her pillow as she, too, groaned. “Just go the fuck to sleep.”

“I can’t, that’s the problem!” you huffed in exasperation, running a hand down your face. “I keep thinking about the fucking hot tub, and Bob’s hands, and his lips, and his fucking big ass di-”

The fighter pilot was up on her knees in seconds, grabbing her pillow in her hands and whacking you with it multiple times as you held your hands up in defense, begging her to stop. When she finally did, the glare she fixed on you was illuminated by the streaks of moonlight pouring through the blinds.

“I do not want to hear about Bob’s genitalia, dude. Good on you for finally saying fuck it to Bradley’s stupid rules and getting your guy, but I don’t need to hear the play by play of your hot tub fondle session,”

“Okay, but like, it’s true. They always say it’s the quiet ones that have the big dicks-”

Natasha’s groan cut you off again as she flopped back onto the bed, head buried into her pillow.

“I am drunk and exhausted. Go have wet dreams over my back-seater by the lake or something, not right beside me, for god’s sake,”

Well, it wasn’t a terrible idea.

In just one of Bradley’s t-shirts and a pair of panties, just as you had been days ago in the kitchen, you found yourself not long later standing by the lake in the dead of night. The patio light was off, every light within the house was off, leaving the private beach to be illuminated by nothing but the moon. The sand was cool beneath your feet, those tiny little grains pushing into every crevice that they could. Gentle waves from the lake lapped at the tips of your toes, soaking the sand before you before it retreated once more, just to repeat the cycle.

A quiet night. Lines of pine trees separated your private home from your neighbors, leaving you well and truly alone in the peacefulness. The perfect place to think, to let your thoughts roam to the man you had been hopelessly in love with for so long.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

There Bob stood as you whipped around, a gentle breeze billowing the large sleeves of your t-shirt just slightly. The moon reflected off his glasses, casting a small sheen of light over his eyes. His own t-shirt hung loosely from his body, barely covering the top of those dark blue boxers that hung around his hips. Your eyes couldn’t help but dart down to them, now knowing what lay beneath. When your eyes met his again, you could feel the heat in them as that same heat rushed through you.

“Was hard to,” your voice was breathy, soft as if not to disturb the peacefulness of the night. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Glad I wasn’t alone in that,” a small laugh tumbled from Bob’s lips as he spoke.

That cord of tension had already broken when his lips touched yours for the first time, when his calloused hands had caressed every inch of your body, when your own had pushed past the waistband of his swim trunks into the land of no return. It was back, now, but heavier. It hung in the air between you both again, but different this time. It wasn’t so much tension anymore as it was pure hunger, pure need for a feeling your body craved.

Your hand toyed with the edge of your shirt as you spoke before you could stop yourself to think.

“I think…I’m going to go for a swim,”

Bob’s lips quirked up, eyebrow shooting up just slightly.

“In that?”

You tugged the shirt over your head without another word, discarding it to the sides somewhere in the sand. The hitch in Bob’s breath was audible even from where you stood, his lips parting as they soaked in every inch of your bare chest and torso on display for him. Without ever looking away from his gaze, you leaned forward, slipping the lace panties that clung to your hips down your legs at an agonizing pace, before they joined your shirt in the sand.

Bob shifted in place, and you could visibly see the bulge in his pants grow and harden just from the sight of you: bare, standing before him in the quietest hours of the night.

“Don’t need clothes to swim, not on your own private beach,” you gave him a small smirk, taking small steps backward and further into the cool lake water waiting for you, and beckoned him with a single motion of your finger. “Want to join me?”

“Y-Yeah…yeah, I do,”

The water was cooler in the night, sending a shiver up your spine and coating your skin in a layer of goosebumps. It rested right below your breasts by the time Bob had thrown his own shirt in a pile by your own, and his boxers joined it seconds later.

Fuck. He was big.

You had already felt it before, but seeing it with your own eyes was something else entirely, something that soaked your core without ever having to be touched. Thick and flushed, the head just a few shades darker than the rest of him, one large vein visible from where it ran down the side of his length that you could only imagine was pulsing.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you in the water, towering over you just slightly. The waterline sat somewhere along his abdomen, and you could see the goosebumps running along his own skin. You flicked your gaze from his collarbone to his eyes, still partially shrouded by the glint of moonlight across his glasses.

He took a step closer, invading your space, as the heat that radiated off his body seeped into your own skin and warmed you in the cold water. It was almost as if, on instinct, guided by something deep inside yourself, your arms wrapped around his shoulders to rest your hands across the nape of his neck as his own found their rightful place around your waist and tugged until your bare body was flush against him.

Bob didn’t give you a second to think about it before his lips were back on yours.

The kiss was heavier than your first kiss, his lips parted, and his tongue traced along the edge of your own until you parted for him without a second thought. His touch sent cascades of pure want and need through your very being, every little moan that slipped past those beautiful pink lips accentuated with the softest confessions of ‘I love you’ that you’d ever heard. That alone had you pressing further into him, carding your fingers into his hair and tugging, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth with a gentle nip at them. It was rewarded with another groan that emanated from somewhere deep within him, the grip around your waist firmer than it was just a moment before. Bob’s lips travelled to your ear for just a moment, hot breath ghosting over the shell of it, as he whispered.

“Jump,”

You obeyed. You’d obey anything he told you to do at this moment. His hands caught your thighs, slotting your legs around his midsection as your ankles locked around his back. Bob’s lips found yours again, head tilted just barely to the side as his mouth all but devoured your own, and the two large, calloused hands that had found their way to the curves of your ass tugged your body against him as hard as he could.

A gasp, a choked moan, even a mewl, whatever the unholy noise was that tumbled from your lips and was swallowed by Bob’s own mouth was unknown the second his flushed cock was settled between your folds. The heat of it alone was enough to soak you again as it throbbed against you in need. You could feel it physically twitch against you as Bob’s hips ground into your core just slightly.

With a hand still locked into his hair, you raked your nails against his scalp and ground your own hips against him.

You could feel every inch of him. The ridge right around the flushed head of his cock, the pulsing vein that ran up the side, you felt every bit of him as you rolled your hips back and forth over him, breath escaping your lungs in stuttering breaths. Bob choked on his own breath, pulling away from your lips with a thin trail of saliva connecting you before his lips locked to the side of your neck, biting into the kiss with a groan. He held you impossibly close to him as your hips ground against him, seeking any minuscule form of friction that they could as the water sloshed around your bodies, creating tiny waves of its own.

“Fucking h-hell,” Bob groaned against you, fingers digging into the skin of your ass so tightly you were sure his hands would be marked into your skin for days to come. “Baby–fuck–if you keep doing that I-I’m not going to last very long.”

“What a shame,” you choked out a laugh mixed with a moan of your own as the head of his cock caught just slightly over your opening, before gliding upward again. Tugging his head toward you, you bit just barely into his earlobe as you spoke. “I was hoping you’d at least be fucking me when you came.”

A small shriek flew past your lips as Bob turned you both on his heel in seconds, marching you up the sand bank and out of the water. He stumbled just slightly in the water, almost dunking you both back under, as shared laughter echoed through the quiet night and soft apologies were muttered from his lips.

With a gentleness that you could only ever expect from a man like Bob Floyd, he laid you back against the sand, the waves lapping just barely up around your thighs. On instinct, your legs parted, letting Bob settle between them like he belonged, his upper arms caging your head as he looked down at you with a passion that was anything but gentle.

You were pretty sure you clenched around absolutely nothing. It was sinful how soaked you were for this man when he’d barely touched you. At least, hadn’t touched you with intention.

Another kiss was placed against your lips, softer but still so full of love that another high-pitched and broken moan left your lips. Those plump, kiss-bitten lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, and over the valley between your breasts. A shaky breath left your throat as his fingertips just barely ghosted over the edges of your breast, skating right past your nipples that were already stiffened from the cold and arousal that flooded through you, before his lips languidly continued south. Over every inch of skin, a gentle kiss placed above your belly button and then a matching one below it, before they continued their journey south.

Bob’s hands found the bare expanse of your thighs, parting your legs further apart. You held your breath without even realizing it as he placed intentional kisses along the sensitive skin, before he hovered just where you wanted him most. You watched him as he simply stared, admired. A breathy chuckle left his lips, his hot breath just barely ghosting over your lower lips as you clenched once more.

“God…you’re the most beautiful thing this world has ever created. I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this,” he rasped out, need blown eyes looking up at you through his eyelashes, a thin sheen of fog coating his glasses. “Let me touch you…let me make you feel good.”

“Please…please, Bob, please touch me,”

He took your words to heart, tongue flattening as he dove in, licking one stripe directly up your core as your breath stuttered out of your lips.

“Darling–fuck–you taste like heaven,”

With one last groan, Bob buried himself in your folds. Eager, breath hot, lips drenched in the arousal that dripped and coated you. Whimpers fell from your mouth with every flick of his tongue right against your clit, every lap of his tongue through your folds and down to your opening as he dipped inside for just a second. He put every ounce of himself into it, tongue and lips buried in your core as if he were a starving man and you were a four-course meal spread out before him.

One of your hands curled in his hair, the other trying to find something to grip onto in the sand as the grains moved through your fingers, as those long, slender fingers you stared at way too many times prodded right at your opening. You cried out into the night, no care in the world for the volume of your voice, as his fingers pressed into you, stretching your walls as they curled against the spot you needed them most. Your back arched, and one of Bob’s free hands was quick to leave your thigh in order to press against your abdomen, holding you down onto the sand as the waves lapped cold water up your ankles.

“Bob–oh my god–Bob, please, don’t stop!” you mewled, breath leaving you in heavy gasps as your grip in his hair tightened, his groan reverberating against your core.

“I won’t,” you could barely hear him over your own cries and shattered moans. “I won’t. Let go, baby, I-I got you.”

He devoured you, tongue lapping at every bit of your juices that flowed from you in a consistent gush. His fingers never stopped, curling against that spot as they moved back and forth, your walls constricting around him as that ball of heat coiled tightly and tighter in your lower abdomen. You tried to lift your hips to get closer, but Bob held you firmly to the sand and somehow drove himself even deeper, practically drowning himself in you.

“B-Bob-!”

A single, desperate cry of his name was all the warning he needed. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and lapping at the bud and ravishing it with every ounce of attention he could give it, his fingers still curling deliciously against that spot as you cried out.

That coil inside of you snapped, a shattered moan leaving you, as your body pulled taut against him.

You were left in a haze, one where you were only able to repeat his name over and over again like a prayer. His fingers slipped from you, his hands finding themselves back against your inner thighs as they massaged little circles into your skin as the stars slowly faded from your vision, the tension in your body releasing as your muscles relaxed. Bob lapped just one last time at your opening with a hum that you could feel against your lips, before leaving one last gentle kiss to the most sensitive part of you that was still pulsing with need.

He was hovering above you when you finally peeled your eyes open. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched as he wiped at the fog that coated his glasses, but your eyes were locked to his lips. So red, so swollen, coated just like his chin in a sheen of your own arousal. He saw you then, watching him, and leaned in to kiss you with a soft lip on his lips. You mirrored it, a giggle bubbling out of you and into his mouth as he laughed with you, the aftertaste of your own slick seeping past your lips.

“You okay?” he whispered against your lips with a final peck, pulling back to see you fully. One of his hands came to cup your cheek, and you leaned into the feeling with a blissful, giddy look stretched across your face.

“Never better. It really is always the quiet ones that can absolutely ruin you, isn’t it?”

One small laugh shot out of Bob at that as he wiped at the beads of sweat rolling down the side of your face. God, he looked down at you so tenderly, so lovingly that it almost hurt. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this man.

“I love you,” it was whispered against your lips as he leaned down for another kiss. Whispered into your skin like a promise. “I don’t think I could love you more than I do right now. But I know, come tomorrow, I somehow will.”

Even when he’d completely ruined you, Bob Floyd still managed to make your heart beat so erratically in your chest that you feared it would stop beating altogether.

That moment hung there for a minute as your body fully came down from the pleasure, as the heat left your body and allowed the cool night breeze to settle over you once more.

But even if the physical heat had left your body, the heat inside of you didn’t. Every moment you looked into those blue eyes, so full of love, it only grew hotter and hotter. You finally moved one leg, wrapping it around Bob’s waist and tugging him into you, letting your core meet with the incredibly stiff cock that you’d been dying to feel now for months. Bob sucked in a breath at the contact, and you could physically see the way his pupils dilated again.

“A-Aren’t you sensitive-”

“I don’t care,” you practically begged, hand curling back into his hair with another little tug. “P-Please, Bob, I don’t care. I need you, I’ve needed you for months. Please.”

“Shit–okay, okay,” Bob nodded along to every word you said, hand gripping the back of your neck once again as he pressed another passionate kiss to your lips that had you bucking your hips against him. “Fuck–okay, m-message heard. I…I don’t have a condom-”

“I don’t care,” you whined, watching as Bob let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair once again. “I’m on the pill, I don’t care.”

“Darling, i-it’s not safe-”

“Then that’s tomorrow’s problem,” you begged him, desperately. You knew you looked like an absolute mess. Dripping in lake water and sweat, remnants of make-up you hadn’t washed off probably streaked down your cheeks, pupils blown so wide in bliss that you were probably barely aware of just how much you were begging this man. “I need you to fuck me–I need to feel you–just, please, fuck me. If you knock me up, then we can just blame Bradley for driving us this far into fucking insanity.”

You weren’t sure which part of what you said it was that broke him, but you could guess. The way that Bob’s gaze got heavier, his breath catching, and his grip growing even tighter on your skin. Another bruising kiss was placed against your lips before his hands were on your legs, wrapping them around his waist, before he took his cock in his own hand and lined himself up with your core without another word and pressed forward.

God, the stretch burned, but in the best way. Your body gave almost no fight to him, still soaked to the core from the need you’d carried for this man for months. Your hands wrapped under his arms, resting against his back as you held him close, fingernails digging into his skin. Bob’s forehead dropped to your shoulder as he leaned in, biting at your skin just barely with every inch of him that sank into you.

“P-Perfect,” Bob’s moan was so broken as his lips trailed up to your throat, resting right over your pulse point. He was wrecked, as wrecked as you were, as your walls fluttered around him and drew another moan from him. “So beyond fucking perfect. So warm–so tight–all mine. Only mine.”

“Always yours…”

He bottomed out the second you spoke, your words cut off by your own gasp at the feeling. Bob’s hips sat flush against yours, sweat clinging to your skin and his own. Every inch of his cock was buried in you to the hilt, and you could feel the way it throbbed and twitched inside of you, the way that Bob’s own body shook at the overwhelming feeling. Your walls clenched around him, breath caught in your throat as your nails dug into his back again, so overwhelmed by the feel of him.

Better than anything you’d ever dreamed of.

Bob’s head left your neck, and he hovered over you for just a moment, as both of your bodies adjusted to the feel of the other. But as you looked at him, at the love that poured out of his gaze, it didn’t feel like adjusting. It felt like a welcome home, like the rejoining of two things that were always meant to be.

He dipped down, lips enveloping yours in a messy and heated kiss, as he pulled himself out of you just to dive back in.

And, fuck, you were a goner. You keened with every delicious drag of him against your walls, swallowing every grunt that poured from his mouth as his hips pistoned into you time and time again. A steady pace, one that had heat blooming through every inch of your skin and a flush crawling up your body.

He’d drive into you, hold himself there, and drag himself out so slowly it was almost like torture. He’d repeat it again, and again, and again until your nails would dig into his back hard enough to pull a low groan from him. Then, the pace would change, hips his driving into you in shorter, faster strokes. All the while, his lips never left yours, saliva dripping between your plump, red lips as every wonton moan that left you echoed into the night.

“You take me so well,” his words were whispered in praise against your skin, lips trailing over your cheek to your ear, groaning directly into it as he drove into you faster until you were another mewling mess under him. “God–made for me–so perfect, so beautiful. So tight, so warm. Squeezing me, taking me so fucking well. God, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Bob–please–fuck me,” the feeling was overwhelming, tears almost pricking at the corners of your eyes as you held onto him, the sound of his hips snapping into yours mixing with the sound of your cried. “Harder–deeper–fuck me, p-please just fuck me.”

Bob’s head buried itself back in your neck as he did just that. His hips pistoned into you at the fastest pace his body could maintain, his hips driving into you so hard you could already feel the ache in your bones. Your nails raked scratches down his back, cries echoing in his ear as you could only find it in yourself to repeat his name over and over again like a mantra. Every thrust built that coil of heat inside of you, the thread begging to snap with every drag of his cock against your walls, with every squelching sound of your arousal pooling between you.

Your release came without warning, his body having shifted yours up just slightly enough that his hips were driving into you at a new angle, pushing him deeper than he’d been before. The second his hips had snapped into you, that spring coiling inside of you snapped, your eyes fluttering shut as the ripple of pleasure flowed through you. Your body clenched around him, his cock still slamming into you again and again as you sobbed out a moan into the night.

Even as it subsided, Bob didn’t stop, searching for his own release. Despite the ache between your legs, the rush of sensitivity in your core, you refused to stop until he’d found salvation. Your hand wound its way into his sweat-soaked hair, nose brushing the side of his head from where it was buried into your neck, as you held him close.

“Cum for me,” you’d choked out the words, barely a whisper. “Ruin me.”

It only took another three rolls of his hips against your’s before he bottomed out, nestled as deep within you as he could be, before Bob finally choked out a moan of his own and let go. You could feel him throb, feel it as he twitched, warmth flooding your insides and pooling inside of you. All you could do was hold him, eyes trained on the stars above through half-lidded eyes as you lay there together, panting and gasping.

Bob finally lifted his head, hovering above you. Your shaky hand reached for his glasses, wiping at the fog that coated them, letting you see the dazed look that had crossed his eyes. His lips quirked into a smile, a blissful one, that you mirrored instantly.

Not a single word was spoken as he pressed the softest of pecks to your lips, then another, and another. And when it had all subsided, when your breathing had finally returned to normal, Bob finally dragged himself out of you. He was quick to kiss away the wince in your brow the second your body was empty of him, adjusting to the feeling. Another kiss was pressed to your temple, your nose, your cheek, and you knew that smile on your face was never going to leave.

“Hold on,” he whispered, unlocking your legs from his waist in order to rise to his feet. “I got you.”

You didn’t fight back. Bob pulled you to your feet, hands on your hips, steadying you as that ache in your hips and thighs threatened to pull you back to the ground. Bob’s arms were quick to swing your legs up, cradling you against him as he stepped back into the lake. Your head never left his chest, letting his steady heartbeat almost lull you to sleep in his arms as he submerged you both in the water, ridding your bodies of the sand that had invaded every crevice. All the while his hands never stopped massaging little circles into your skin.

He carried you back up the beach, grabbing your bundles of clothing from the ground and bunching them up in his hand, before he placed you gently against the stairs going up to the patio. Your head leaned against the railing as his lips rested gently against the side of your head, promising to be right back.

You could only smile to yourself in the moments he was gone, replaying every moment from the night you knew you’d never forget in your head like a movie.

The sliding glass door opened softly before Bob appeared before you again. He was drier than he was moments prior, kneeling on the steps in front of you now in a new pair of boxers. He draped a towel around your shoulders, letting you snuggle into the warmth and run it over your soaked skin before taking the water bottle he so gently held out to you with an appreciative grin.

“So,” your voice was slightly hoarse when you finally spoke, chugging a good bit of the water before offering him the rest. He accepted, one hand resting on your knee with light patterns being drawn into your skin by his fingertips. “In all those dreams you’ve had of us, was our first time ever on a lakeside beach?”

“Absolutely not,” Bob responded with a laugh, tossing the empty water bottle up onto the patio somewhere. “But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. It…it was perfect.”

You rung the last bit of water you could from your hair with the towel, tossing it up over the railing to dry before leaning forward, cupping Bob’s cheek in your hand to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“It was perfect because it was with you,” you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of that giddy smile on his lips.

Bob reached behind you, slipping one of his own t-shirts over your body now that you were dry, before taking the spot beside you on the stairs. You leaned into his side without hesitation, his arm settling in its place around your shoulders as he pressed another kiss to your temple.

“I love you,”

You let those words really wrap around you, let yourself really feel them, as you looked up at the stars and moon glittering against the lake.

“I love you, too…now, what do you say we go pass out on the couch and give Bradley a coronary at seven in the morning?”

Bob’s laughter echoed through the night.

“Well, if you aren’t going to be the death of me…guess your brother gets that honor in the morning,”

463 notes · View notes

kurooh · 17 hours ago

Text

LOST IN THE FIRE !

⊹₊˚. HAPPY 4/20 2025 — two baked and horny college students + a late night ritual to summon a hungry sex demon = a hot mess! but as satoru famously likes to say, what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ content, mdni. succubus fem! reader, recreational drug use (weed), crack taken very seriously, threesomes, humor, inaccurate demonic rituals, blood offerings but sexy, oral, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, throat fucking, extreme marathon sex, ‘this is where you’re weak right’, lots of cum, handjobs, blowjobs, spit roasting, tit sucking, reader is sexy asf! wc / 12.6k DAMN

xoxo, juno: this idea came to me sober btw! happy 420, two months later. comment & rb if you enjoyed, lmk if you caught the jjk easter eggs i threw in teehee

“god, it’s really been too long.”

satoru exhales a cloud of smoke into the air, and he can feel the tension bleeding out of his slouching shoulders. weeks of built up stress dissipate along with the smoke, and for the first time in a while, he’s finally able to take it easy. he passes the blunt back to his best friend and squints at the laptop screen. it is dark in their apartment, and the air is thick with the heavy scent of weed, all thanks to suguru’s idea to hotbox the place. why follow the no smoking inside rule when you can shove a towel against the front door and keep the windows shut so the neighbors can’t smell it? honestly, fuck them—the people on the left always have something to say, especially to the landlord!

with a wry chuckle, suguru plucks the blunt from satoru’s fingers and raises it to his lips. “it’s been a month, satoru. you were literally the one who kept telling me to be your sobriety sponsor so you could focus on school and work.”

on the illegal (but free!) website, cocaine bear plays on the display, not yet in full screen. satoru loves to watch comedy movies, and this is the only one he’ll ever want to watch when he’s high. as for suguru, he either falls asleep or watches it too. the workload for classes has really amped up in the past few weeks, and as much as satoru hates to say or even think it, he’s genuinely been struggling. scheduling at work has also been a bitch, and utahime, his boss, has the nerve to turn her nose up at him even when he comes in early! if she wasn’t shoko’s girlfriend, satoru would mess with her endlessly.

diamond irises stand out brightly against reddening eyes as he blinks a few times, leaning in to better see the movie. soft voices and sounds pour out of the speakers, just loud enough to hear. the tip of satoru’s index finger lands on the touchpad, and he skates the mouse across the screen to dilate the movie’s picture when he notices a peculiar bookmark just under the search bar.

“what the hell, suguru?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth; legitimate curiosity and maybe a little excitement slip into the words, and before suguru can snatch away his laptop, satoru pulls it into his lap and scurries onto his own messy bed. “what’s this? it looks weird, i’ve never seen this site before.”

it’s true.

satoru has browsed nearly all corners of the internet, and not once in his twenty four years of living has he seen this website icon before. it’s a black circle with intricate white lines in a shape that he can’t quite make out, and when he dodges suguru’s attempt to drag him off the bed, he clicks onto the bookmark and kicks his feet childishly.

“dude,” suguru tries weakly, having managed not to drop the blunt. he grabs at his best friend’s flailing ankle and his lips twist downwards, an embarrassed heat creeping into his face. “listen. i promise, it’s really not what it looks like, hear me out—”

“‘how to summon a succubus in five steps’. what the actual fuck is this? suguru, if you’re going through a dry spell, why not just go to the bar near shoko’s place?”

“that’s—it’s a lesbian bar, satoru. for the record, i’d never be desperate enough to summon a succubus. it’s because of yuki, she kept hounding me about this shit. what, you think i’d voluntarily research something like this? she threatened to whip me off her motorcycle when i was on it.”

satoru’s face scrunches in disgust. he doesn’t really like to know that he has friends desperate enough to look into something like this, but at least she’s more suguru’s than his. they met in a similar class at some point and apparently hit it off well enough for her to pass something like this off to him.

“and you said yes? what happened to the stop, drop, and roll thing?”

“i was drunk and we were on a freeway. this was right after drinking at the lesbian bar, by the way. two women actually hit on me because i wore my hair down that night.”

“where was i? why didn’t you invite me to this little get-together, huh?” satoru sours immediately, already thinking too hard about when this may have happened to register suguru taking a seat on the bed beside him.

“at work,” suguru hums, scooping the laptop into his own lap to explore the web page, “i shouldn’t even be telling you this, but utahime organized it so you’d be stuck working late.”

of course it was her! satoru lightheartedly teases her about her hair bow or her occasional meltdowns when there’s too much work dumped onto her shoulders, and to get back at him, she decides to screw with his schedule. that’s too far, even for her. if he were soberly processing this information, he’d begin plotting revenge, but right now, he’s still thinking about the succubus thing.

“i hate her,” he whines pettily, pulling the blunt away from suguru to take a long, calming hit.

“don’t let shoko hear that.”

“are you—give that to me, i want to read it.” satoru is quick to regain control of the laptop, exhaling smoke through his nose as he navigates the dark webpage. the title, How to Summon a Succubus in Five Steps, runs along the top of the website in a bolded font. upon further inspection, satoru notices the lack of a back arrow and symbol that tells him this is a secure, private site. this website could potentially introduce a virus to the laptop, but suguru just looks on, waiting for his best friend to read the nonsense he’s been researching for the past week.

HOW TO SUMMON A SUCCUBUS IN FIVE STEPS

Before summoning any kind of spirit or demon, it is necessary to understand the

“satoru, why’d you scroll past the introduction? it’s actually informative.”

“i’m not reading all that,” he shrugs in reply, lip jutting out as he impatiently rolls down to the next set of bolded lettering. the laptop feels like it’s radiating more heat through his sweatpants; the screen flickers, flashing black for a split second before returning to normal. “dude, you need to charge this thing. cord should be on the floor, i saw it there earlier.”

after releasing an unwilling groan, suguru begins shuffling around to find the black charging cord. while he fishes around in a sea of clean though mismatched socks and papers for it, satoru clears his throat and begins reading aloud.

“‘to begin, you will need to arrange red candles in the shape of a circle and then light them.’ hey, suguru, while you’re up, can you grab some of your candles?”

suguru brushes his bangs out of his face and throws his friend a mildly annoyed look. “you just said red candles, and mine are all white or blue. also, i can’t find the goddamn charger, so once the laptop dies, that’s my sign to go to bed.”

“so you don’t wanna test out the stuff you’ve been researching? it’s better to go to all this effort so yuki knows it was a good idea to ask you for help. aren’t you the least bit curious anyway?”

“you don’t give a flying fuck about yuki,” suguru deadpans, crossing his arms. his eyes are droopy and red from the weed, but he still manages to speak in that sober monotone of his. clearly, he needs to help satoru finish that blunt all the way. “you’re just interested in the idea of fucking a spirit.”

“weed does more than soothe the mind,” satoru begins nonsensically, pinching his fingers together in a cone shape to make his point hit harder, “it activates the loins and controls every single craving a person could possibly have.”

“the loins?” suguru can’t help but parrot him, completely baffled and still standing like an elementary teacher scolding a bratty student.

“yes. smoke some more and you’ll start thinking with ‘em.”

because satoru never shies away from a challenge, he tips his chin up and smirks like he’s just spoken wise, socratic words. significantly slower than normal, the seconds creep by as they hold the eye contact. between the two of them, suguru is the first to crack, his lips curling back as he bursts into laughter, clutching at his sides as he wilts to the floor. likewise, satoru cackles along with him, unable to remember where he randomly pulled the word loins from—everything feels like it’s been slowed down, his surroundings hazy by the time he finally comes back to himself. while suguru fetches the candles from his room, satoru can’t stop giggling, even when he’s reading the next steps.

suguru arranges the candles in a sloppy, uneven circle and hits the blunt to reward himself, taking a seat on the floor to follow the upcoming instructions.

“‘before lighting any candles, obtain a piece of paper and a working pen.’ why the fuck would anybody use a dried out pen? uh, it says to ‘start this letter by addressing the goddess lilith. use her formal titles and then start writing your erotic thoughts or feelings. put everything out of your mind and focus only on requesting one of her succubi.’ you get all that, suguru?”

“yeah, i’m writing right now.”

“the instructions give a few examples but specify not to use them, so i hope you’re thinking original thoughts.”

messy words are scrawled into the paper, which crinkles against suguru’s thigh, growing wrinkly from being pressed into the material of his sweatpants. he’s trying not to press too hard and rip anything, but it’s kind of hard to focus on one specific thing when the most random thoughts are ricocheting through his head and exiting just as quickly as they came. he manages to finish his final paragraph kindly begging the goddess to consider his request, and signs his name under it. both the pen and paper are passed to satoru, along with a tight-lipped warning. “if you read that shit out loud, i’m taking you outside, satoru. in fact, don’t even look at it.”

in lieu of a verbal response, satoru dramatically rolls his eyes. “since it’s dark, i just rolled my eyes. we’re trying to summon a sex demon, so i don’t really get why you still have the nerve to be embarrassed. that should’ve passed the second you grabbed the candles, dude.”

suguru’s words on the paper were more thoughtful, more profound. satoru just writes a slew of horny things, like he’s trying to customize a video game character—please be soft, don’t be totally evil, please be open to letting me suck your tits. his final paragraph is respectful and kind of a copy of the one a few lines above it, but whatever! despite his insistence that satoru doesn’t read his writing on the paper, suguru hypocritically takes a small peek and groans aloud, pressing a thumb into his forehead.

“‘please be soft?’ what the hell does that even mean? need i remind you we are talking to a demon and could end up being cursed if we show even the smallest bit of disrespect?”

everything flies in through one ear and right out the other. careless as usual, satoru scoffs dismissively. “blah blah blah, it’s not even that serious. i get that you’re afraid, but like—”

“read the next step.”

“‘to seal this letter, prick your finger with a needle—’ hell no, that’s all you. ‘drip the blood onto the letter, light every candle in the circle, and meditate until you feel you’ve completely cleared your mind. then, without folding it, burn the letter and continue to meditate until a succubus comes forth.’”

suguru cringes, but ultimately decides that he must take the plunge. the best case scenario is that they complete the ritual accurately and nothing happens, but they are selfishly messing with the supernatural. he doesn’t know that much about demons, but the name holds a negative connotation—getting on the wrong side of one doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest.

“okay, it also says to cut your palm for more blood if you’re extra serious about this. i’m not doing any of that shit, by the way.”

“satoru,” he sighs exasperatedly through his nose, deadpanning the name, “you wrote in the letter too, so you also have to seal it, not just me.”

“ugh, can’t we just offer chocolate or something?”

suguru relents, because his high brain doesn’t entirely think that satoru’s suggestion is a bad one. no, it doesn’t align with the provided steps for this specific ritual, but during his extensive research, he came to learn that some rituals involved edible offerings and supposedly worked. “i’ll try offering blood, and you do the chocolate.”

“right!” satoru nods thoughtfully, under the impression that he just keeps getting smarter and smarter after he smokes. he proudly sticks up his index finger when he remembers the existence of his sweets drawer, which is always restocked on fridays, like clockwork. “do you want that needle or are you planning to bite your tongue?”

suguru grimaces as the scent of chocolate and sugary candy wafts through the air, thanks to satoru opening his underwear drawer. it is literally divided into two different sections—the left side is taken up by folded boxers and a jockstrap he hasn’t used since high school; the space on the right is claimed by an orange halloween bowl filled to the brim with mini chocolates, hard candies, and too many packets of konpeito.

when satoru comes back from the bathroom with a safety pin in hand, he’s giggling stupidly. it’s dark all over the apartment, and it’s well past midnight—the perfect conditions to summon a succubus. clumsily, he drops the safety pin into suguru’s extended palm and pulls the laptop off of the bed before taking a seat on the floor.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this,” satoru laughs dryly, dragging a hand down his warm face as one brief and sober thought passes through his mind, “i’ve been celibate for far too long, suguru. i think the lack of pussy is actually starting to get to me, i’m beginning to lose smell in my right ear—”

suguru wordlessly relights the blunt and hands it to his best friend. firmly gripping the unclasped safety pin, he jabs it right into his thumb and winces when it goes a little deeper than intended. he snatches the letter and swipes his bleeding finger across his signature, and practically throws it at satoru.

“you good?” smoke billows out of his mouth in thin wisps as he picks up the letter, noticing suguru sucking on his thumb. then, his eyes widen when he notices the wet streaks of red along the paper. “fuck. that’s . . a lot of blood for a dumb ritual, suguru.”

he starts to stand, planning to hunt down an ashtray and a bandaid, but suguru shakes his head, pulling at his leg. “it’s fine. in this case, more is better than less. just get the chocolate on the paper, we need to hurry up.”

he glances over at the laptop while satoru unwraps a hershey’s. it’s pretty much melting now from the heat of his hands, which makes it easier for him to swatch beneath his own signature. it looks weird, especially when compared to the streaks of blood a few inches up the paper.

satoru clears his throat, holding the blunt between his fingers while he skims over the screen again. the words feel harder to read now—it’s like they’re blurry and glitching out whenever his eyes land on the first word in a sentence. “uh, okay. ‘light every candle in the circle, and meditate until you feel you’ve completely cleared your mind. then, without folding it, burn the letter and continue to meditate until a succubus comes forth.’”

“let’s get this over with,” suguru assents, his thumb still spurting blood against the folds of his shirt. “i’ll light the candles and you burn the letter.”

“ew, this is pretty creepy.”

one by one, the peppermint candles are lit up. small orange flames flicker, dancing from side to side, and the light fills the room, giving it an eerie glow. satoru does not believe in spirits, but he shuffles a few inches closer to his best friend in case something spawns out of a candle. maybe he’s just paranoid, he realizes, but he makes no move to get away from suguru.

reluctantly, he reaches into the circle, the letter dangling precariously from between his fingers. he moves it over a candle’s flame, the only one in the circle with the smallest speck of blue, and lets the corner of it catch on fire. everything happens fairly quickly—the hungry flames engulf the thin paper, eating up the ink and offerings within a few seconds.

shit just got real, suguru recognizes, a sudden awareness prickling in the forefront of his mind. what the hell was he thinking? what kind of person writes some lustful desires on a piece of paper, signs their name, gets blood on it, and then burns it in a sinister circle of candles? his heart kicks against his ribs, and he wonders how he could possibly meditate peacefully when he’s more cognizant than he’d like to be at this point in time.

his tone leaves no room for questions when he demands, “hand me the fucking blunt, now.”

it’s a lifeline. trembling, he starts puffing away like an asthmatic in the throes of an attack, getting blood on the sides of it with his bad thumb. satoru starts to cough, his eyes watering from the huge clouds of smoke filling the room. heavy and hot, the mingling scents of burned paper and weed hang in the air like a weighted blanket. weakly, he reaches for an abandoned bottle of water under his bed and doesn’t hesitate to suck half of it down. now that he’s back to being comfortably wasted, suguru can meditate without thinking excessively. sure, there’s still a few thoughts that creep in, but he’s able to dismiss them and focus on a positive end goal to this whole ordeal. he swears to himself that he’ll never get involved with the occult again, whether or not this goes well—never again.

satoru crosses his legs and focuses on meditating, eyes closed as he hums long, unintelligible syllables to relax. not far behind him, the laptop is getting battery notifications; it’s about to die very soon, and yet the screen is the brightest it has ever been. suguru doesn’t notice, too engrossed in meditating alongside satoru. if they both channel positive thoughts, maybe this will end better than the way it started.

a light breeze hits satoru’s cheeks, leaving tingles in its wake. it is much cooler than it should be, considering the fact that the windows aren’t open and—the windows aren’t open. they are sitting in a dark room illuminated only by candlelight, with zero air flow. his eyes snap open, and he notices the flames frantically flicking from side to side.

“oh fuck, suguru. i swear to god there’s something else in here with us, don’t you feel—”

“don’t say anything,” suguru hisses, closed eyelids clenching, “go back to meditating. we gotta make sure we don’t piss it off.”

satoru’s throat is dry and his heart is pounding in his ears, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. okay, this spiritual mess isn’t funny or weird anymore—he is legitimately concerned about being haunted by a fucking demon. what if it’s because he offered chocolate and then the demon didn’t like it? or what if she did, and that’s why she’s going to come after him?

suguru also feels the breeze, but then a nearly unbearable heat tears through his body. it’s so unbelievably hot, strong as a fever, but then it crests right between his thighs. he swallows dryly, his throat clicking. it makes his skin sting under his clothes—the brisk air does nothing to soothe the scorching in his cheeks, and the presence of something else is indisputable.

beside him, satoru’s starting to twitch. he is deathly afraid and not expecting the very same heat to ignite in his gut; it’s like he’s an hourglass, except the sand is fast moving magma pooling between his thighs. he tries his hardest to concentrate on meditating, even though the sensations are really overwhelming him. just as he’s started to successfully gaslight himself into thinking that it’s just the weed, something physical brushes gently against his throat and sends a chilling wave of dread through his warming body.

it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, but satoru is extremely on edge nonetheless. “if i die,” he hisses, jaw clenching, “i will be haunting utahime for eternity.”

suguru must be experiencing his own turmoil, because he draws in a sharp breath and straightens his back against the edge of the bed. something both soft and sharp coasts along the slope of his jaw, with just enough pressure to slightly sting. an indecipherable mutter of words as quiet as a whisper echoes through the room, only growing louder with each pass between them. something beyond the two of them is definitely present by now.

this is really embarrassing and he feels like a total pussy, but satoru wants to grab suguru and huddle against him like a last-ditch effort to prevent from freezing to death on an icy tundra. he’s high out of his mind, which probably amplifies the paranoia, and he is uncomfortably aware of the fact that he has helped summon a demon into the very place he lives—yeah, this definitely takes the cake for his top three worst experiences ever.

gradually, the ominous sound climbs in volume until it finally evolves into a shout. what had at first been a low, unsettling hiss is now a deafening chant that blasts through both satoru and suguru’s heads; accompanying the noise is a pressure that’s strong enough to crush a soda can flat. it hurts more than anything ever has before, and just as suguru thinks he’s about to have an aneurysm, everything stops and falls completely silent. the quiet is still jarring to their ringing ears, and is more unsettling than anything else.

when you materialize in the room, you first notice the thick and musty smell of the place before anything else. it has earthy notes of smoke and herbs, but it’s been hanging in the air for so long that it is no longer pleasant. it’s fine, though, because your own scent supercedes the stench of the small apartment—a seductive and sickeningly sweet aroma fills the air, making the candles burn brighter. despite the room’s dim glow and darkness, you can very clearly make out the two male figures seated in front of you. you knew that they were there to begin with, though; fear rolls off of them in heavy, bitter waves that you can taste on your tongue.

both of them have their eyes closed, although the delicate skin of their eyelids seems to jump or twitch every now and then. perhaps they’re both caught in a nightmare and need to be awakened? you bend forward to observe one of them more closely, without stepping out of the summoning circle, and you reach out a hazy, half-formed finger to touch him. a sharp, manicured nail skims along suguru’s jaw, and he wills himself not to react, but the other man beside him jerks ever so slightly from the accidental graze of your tail against his throat.

when you’d been summoned, you were excited and expecting much more than whatever the hell this sorry set up is. two men were calling you to an apartment located in a busy suburb in tokyo, and their generous offerings appealed to your two favorite tastes. first, an excessive amount of blood, and second, a sweet snack known to humans as chocolate. a feverish sort of sensation rushes through your body, just from looking at them—without having stepped foot out of the circle of candles, you’re already feeling hot and bothered.

out of nowhere, suguru’s rock hard and nearly choking on his tongue at the feel of it. his cock throbs painfully against his thigh, the tip of it drooling precum into his boxers, and he’s shocked. this must mean that the ritual worked—they genuinely summoned a succubus with an online ritual from 2014.

a thin sheen of sweat forms on satoru’s skin, spanning his whole face and throat, while also dampening his chest underneath his black jujutsu tech shirt. if he knew a supernatural being would be seeing him in a shirt with the name of his college stamped across the front, he would’ve dressed up more for the occasion with a compression shirt of the same color. also, maybe if he wasn’t representing his college, you’d be unable to discern his whereabouts if you maliciously wanted to haunt him. but, like, aren’t spirits and the like all-knowing? does his shirt even matter?

it really looks like they’re asleep, or maybe caught somewhere in the fragile realm between consciousness and slumber. being a succubus for thousands of years simply means that you’ve developed a propensity for kickstarting the arousal of your conjurors, and so long as their offerings are worth something, what’s the point of keeping them waiting when they’ve put so much effort into calling you to them?

you lean in for a kiss, and it is nothing short of electric when your lips meet his. shocks of pure lust reverberate through both of your bodies at the delicious contact, and you can feel his energy swelling in the air immediately. suguru’s arousal is acidic on your tongue as you swallow it down, happily feeding off of such succulence. a mouthwatering tang stands out against the flavor, which amplifies the output of your own energy; in turn, this aggravates their arousal.

startled though buzzing with desire, suguru pulls back and kicks his feet out to protest against the invisible force. an entity has attached itself to his mouth, and it feels nice but also makes him freak the fuck out. the first thing he can think to do is scamper back and away from the circle, dragging you out of it as well. without the aegis of the sacred candles, you fully manifest in front of them, going from an inpercievable specter to what appears to be a half-clothed female human being, with a few unusual attributes.

at a loss for words, suguru releases an astonished gasp. satoru protectively slots himself beside his best friend, too shocked to think before he speaks. “what the fuck is that thing?”

in the thousands of years you’ve been a succubus, you’ve heard it all with previous summoners—goddess, woman, angel, demon, beauty, lady—but this is the first time you’ve been called a thing.

you rise to your full height, looking surprisingly intimidating. the unfurling of your black bat-like wings and the back and forth flick of your heart shaped tail is unusual enough for them to exchange a look of panic. you don’t usually keep them during sex since they can be a hindrance, but you’ve always assumed that they look more sexy than anything else. the fact that they’re so obviously afraid gives you some kind of wicked delight, which prompts you to spread them out further, casting a somewhat menacing shadow over the men.

raising a brow, you glare at the source of the voice; he’s looking toward the floor, unsure of where to direct his gaze. satoru’s diamond blue eyes widen a fraction when he hears your voice boom through the room, authoritative and dangerously demanding. is he starting to lose it or did the walls just shake? “repeat yourself, human.”

the last thing he wants to do is repeat himself, now aware of the severity of his mistake. for encouragement, suguru digs his elbow into satoru’s belly, urging him to respond. well, shit. how’s he supposed to respond? this is about to get extremely ugly, and even worse, he’s gonna die before he graduates college! he’s way too young for this shit! you can smell more panic leaking out of their souls, the miasma of it poisoning the air and overshadowing the pleasant arousal.

“uh, well. hm . . i was so startled i asked what kind of goddess you were. like, just look at you! anyone’s wires would get crossed seeing you appear in front of them. i’ve never been so blessed.”

the cracking of his voice makes his lies obvious. he’s only layering it on thick because he’s so afraid of what you might do—as he should be—but this is just pathetic. most thankful summoners would drop to their knees and bow or something, but this . . this is different. this is intriguing. you decide to toy with them a bit further, narrowing your eyes as you take a single step closer.

in vain, satoru tries to scoot back, only for his spine to press against the solid edge of his bedframe. carelessly summoning you has turned out to be a massive mistake, and to make matters worse, he just had to upset you! he wishes he could blame this on someone else, say it was yuki’s fault for putting the summoning idea into his head, but you don’t look amused.

you lean in, tail flicking dangerously behind you. the cloying air feels thicker in satoru’s lungs, like he’s drowning in a tub of honey and trying to breathe at the same time; the light scent in the air has shifted into something reminiscent of rotting fruit. he regrets having closed the window as per suguru’s instructions—it’s getting a little humid. it’s already too sweet. too nauseating.

after nodding quickly at suguru, he decides to open his mouth. you’re waiting for a real apology, aren’t you? surely it’ll help to clear up this grave misunderstanding. but then, you put your hands on your hips and your voice booms through the room once more.

“i should show you what it feels like to have your soul pulled apart thread by thread and then burned in the very circle you used to summon me.”

suguru’s stomach drops. this is actually the end. he’s gonna die and suffer in the afterlife because he decided to take on a succubus research project given to him by yuki, and didn’t hide it well enough from satoru. maybe if they weren’t thinking with the wrong heads, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now! they’d be watching cocaine bear for the thousandth time and eating a mix of snacks from satoru’s candy drawer if it hadn’t been for their stupidity.

he attempts to say something, but his mouth is completely dry. not a single word manages to form on his tongue, and all he can do is bow his head, pitifully begging for mercy. at his side, satoru looks shell-shocked, like he’s just seen a ghost—in all fairness, he’s currently looking at a variation of one—and tears gather in his eyes. there’s nothing he can do to save himself.

suddenly, you retract the bat wings, and light returns to the room, illuminating their faces. you drop to your knees in front of them, laughing so hard you’re clutching your stomach as you double over. “oh my god!” you manage to gasp out, feet kicking wildly, “you should’ve seen your faces!”

satoru side eyes suguru. both wear the same blank expression, but neither let go of the other.

you sit up, sniffling. tipping your head to the side, you smile, all teasing and tickled. like you didn’t just scare the shit out of them by threatening to kill and curse them less than a minute ago.

“what the fuck,” satoru blurts out, pushing away from his best friend when suguru tugs at his shirt, shaking his head vehemently. “no, seriously, what the fuck?”

“satoru—i’m sorry, he didn’t mean to say that,” suguru attempts to intervene, pulling him back.

you shrug, tail flicking lazily, like that of a cat’s. “it sounds like he did. ‘what the fuck’ what?”

“why would you threaten to kill us? we literally gave you our blood and chocolate! didn’t you read the letter i burned? i specifically said ‘please don’t be totally evil’ in that thing! this seems very evil, y’know!”

“i haven’t stretched my wings out like that in a thousand years! it was really boring being stuck in purgatory, so i just felt like i had to shake things up. no hard feelings, right?”

suguru’s trying to process this information. he presses his thumb into his forehead, trying to sort it out aloud. “so—correct me if i’m wrong, but you were in purgatory for a hundred years and decided to threaten to kill us just for fun?”

“exactly! but i just said that, so why are you repeating me?”

satoru starts talking before suguru can rip into you, more focused on understanding. “what did you do to get stuck there for a thousand years? did you just float there or something? why couldn’t you stretch your wings out?”

you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement. suguru’s totally pissed right now, but damn—even he can admit that you’re truly divine. the personification of beauty and lust all in one, sitting in his apartment. you’re sitting on your knees, facing satoru and focusing on him. good. you can’t see his thirsty ass drinking you in, his eyes tracing over every inch of you.

you’re scantily clad in too much clothing and not enough. black lace barely covers your tits, leaving just enough to the imagination—he can see your nipples through it—while black opera gloves extend from the tips of your fingers to the start of your biceps. suguru’s dark eyes crawl further, finding the sparkling beads lining your waist, and god, that does something to him. the gemstones on each strand in the small stack look otherworldly, impossibly unique and all you.

satoru’s listening to you answer his questions and watching you talk with your hands. “it was a punishment for fucking a demon. he summoned me once and then afterward, i kept coming to him of my own accord, which i wasn’t supposed to do,” you sigh dramatically, not even hiding the fact that you miss whatever demon you’re talking about. “he had a mouth on his stomach and like, four arms. could you even blame me for going back to him? of course not. anyway, purgatory’s kind of like the place between heaven and hell. there’s no passage of time or any entertainment. it’s kind of like sleeping, but with your eyes open and without being able to move.”

satoru’s trying to pick his jaw up and off the floor. how the fuck could demons with four arms and stomach tongues roam this very earth? he looks at you, motioning for you to continue. as much as he hates to say it, this is kind of interesting to listen to. “and the wings?”

“oh, they were taken away through a cursed technique. that’s just an ability that my higher ups have, nothing super important, but my wings were missing that whole time. i only just got them back.” suguru’s completely ignoring what you’re saying. he’s buried in his thoughts, too focused on the lower half of your body to notice anything that may or may not be happening. you’ve got these black leg garments on—he can only equate them to stockings or thigh highs, even though they look a little different than what he’d see in a clothing store. he sneaks a dirty glance at your panties, eyes lingering at the lack of coverage on your ass.

the black strings arch over your hips, leading into an extremely thin bit of fabric and lace covering your pelvis. maybe, just maybe, this succubus summoning ritual might actually be something he could be okay with.

“i saw that,” you say suddenly, calling him out. suguru looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can faintly see the red of his cheeks in the dark. “i can feel you looking at me. both of you.”

satoru scoffs, dismissively waving his hand in the air. “don’t start with the threats to kill us for looking at you. it’s not like your eyes are closed either.”

impressed, you raise a brow. his audacity sparks your curiosity and also your arousal. the effects can be felt throughout the room—suguru sits up straighter, and satoru adjusts himself.

“you did call me here for a reason. generously offered me blood and chocolate so i’d come.”

the mention of blood reminds suguru that he is still bleeding. it’s too dark to see clearly, but going off touch alone tells him enough; a lot of it has soaked into the lower half of his shirt and has probably stained it for good. he sees you inhale through your nose, detecting the faint traces of it in the air, and then you’re on all fours, creeping forward like a panther waiting to pounce. he swallows dryly, hearing the click of his throat, and isn’t sure if he should feel afraid or strangely turned on by the predatory look in your eyes.

you reach out and take his hand, nails lightly raking against his skin. he doesn’t pull away, even when you experimentally squeeze at his injured thumb and watch the blood bubble up. satoru glances at his best friend, wondering if you’re pretending to inspect suguru’s hand with the intent of biting it off. he understands that succubi are different than vampires, but after that stunt you pulled earlier? satoru can’t trust you completely.

something warm, wet, and silky soft envelops his thumb.

suguru tilts his head down, and your burning eyes meet his own. it’s nearly impossible not to moan as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the sore skin in a way that manages to be delicate and effortlessly sexy all at once. all he can do is squirm and bite his cheek while satoru just watches, slackjawed. hell, if he knew he’d be getting this kind of treatment afterward, he would’ve offered plenty of blood! the sight gets him hot and bothered, way more than it should, and he emits a choked noise from beside his best friend, suddenly aware of how his boxers feel a few sizes too small.

“uhhh . . do you want any chocolate with that?” he’s halfway through the sentence when his voice breaks cutely, and your eyes flick toward him, glowing with amusement. “i’ve got plenty of kit-kats, if you’re into those.”

sighing softly through your nose, you let go of suguru’s finger with a pop to focus on his best friend. he looks over his finger incredulously, no longer feeling the wound’s sting; your saliva coats his skin and glistens in the low light. would it be weird if he wanted to taste it?

a sly smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “the chocolate can wait until after i’ve had my fill of what i came down here for. i’ve been kept waiting for too long anyway.”

there’s a beat of silence. the tip of your tail drags slow and teasing along suguru’s throat, and satoru just stares at you like he can’t believe he’s gotten so lucky.

you raise a brow, feeling the lust flare in the air. the energy is plentiful and strong, fueling the cycle of desire—it arouses you, which reflects back to them more intensely. “you, let’s share a piece of chocolate.”

satoru looks confused, but reaches for the bar he used for the letter. “didn’t you just say you were done with the chocolate? did the thousand year imprisonment have any mental affects?”

you scoff, thinking through your list of comebacks. you could take the easy route and roll your eyes, saying something like i know what i said, i changed my mind but where’s the fun in that? you are the one in control here—if you willed it, they’d bow down to you—as you should be.

“i’ll fuck him on your bed while you watch,” you tilt your head toward suguru, whose eyes widen a fraction. did you just say you’d fuck him on satoru’s bed while also forcing the latter to watch? it makes some sense—you are a mischevious demon, after all. a very sexy and seductive one, at that.

satoru places the half melted piece of chocolate between his lips. you lift yourself into his lap and push your gloved hands into his messy hair before tugging his face toward your own. part of the chocolate breaks when you bite it and take it into your mouth; it’s light and sweet on your tongue, but satoru would taste a thousand times better.

chocolate smears against his lips as his mouth meshes with yours in a scorching hot kiss. the candy tastes much better when you’re perched on his lap and licking it out of his mouth like you can’t get enough. satoru lets out a debauched moan, more than pleased with how you’re kissing him—his cock is painfully hard against your ass, and despite the layers of clothing between your bodies, you can feel each inch of him.

suguru sits back and observes, feeling the heat of desire sweltering under his skin. fuck, you’re not even kissing him, and he wants to moan just from watching! are you really attractive or is he discovering something new about himself? satoru tips his head down, trying to change the angle of the kiss, and your fingers are already on his chin, tilting his face up without any concern of being gentle or not. he groans, weakly attempting to grind you down on his cock.

“shit,” suguru mutters, reaching toward the waistband of his sweatpants.

with one final dip of your tongue into his mouth, you pull away from satoru and look just in time to catch the feverish devastation flash across his face. you might be starving for some sex, but nothing beats the slow burn of foreplay—it’s more than necessary right now.

“your turn, suguru,” he’s flushed and breathing a little heavier than usual, but he nods, stretching out his legs for you to come and sit on his lap. instead of situating yourself the same way you did on satoru, you balance your weight on your knees, positioning them on either side of his thighs. “oh,” you coo, swiftly undoing the tie of his neat bun, “look at this gorgeous hair.”

brightening at the compliment, he gives you a half smile. “thank you. i actually—”

in the background, satoru groans, sounding petulant when he interrupts his best friend. “okay, suguru. you’re gonna bore her if you start going on about the shampoo and oils you use.”

“i was going to say that i actually think the bed would be more comfortable right now.”

he’s in the middle of his stupid bickering with satoru when your soft hands slide against his neck and immediately draw his attention. you shush him with a low, quiet sound and lean in for a kiss that instantly adds a dangerous amount of fuel to the fire raging deep in your belly. you’re nearly sick with desire and drowning in the overwhelming waves of everything that accompanies it—there is so much that the excess seeps into your movements, making every single one all the more intoxicating.

satoru’s a little pissed. actually, scratch that, he’s a lot pissed. he’s being forced to sit back and watch the succbus that he helped to summon ignore him for his damn best friend. yes, suguru deserves some love, but not this much! you’re rocking your hips over his lap and swallowing all the soft sounds he makes, sometimes muffling them with your own, and it is genuinely one of the worst things he’s ever had to watch. you must feel his eyes on you, or you really like suguru’s hair, because you thread your fingers in it and tug hard enough to elicit a drawn-out groan of fuuuck that comes from deep within his chest.

“ahem. allow me to remind you that i helped to summon you too. do i look like some kind of cuck to you?” satoru practically spits the question out, narrowing his eyes at the both of you. “suguru, don’t you dare say yes.”

“if he won’t say it, i will,” you tease, throwing him this smarmy smile even though he shakes his head in warning. as expected, you just ignore it. “yes, you do.”

you stand, much to suguru’s dismay, and with a wave of your hand, both your tail and wings disappear into thin air. now, you look completely normal—if being flawlessly beautiful is a normal human trait. the bed creaks gently under you as you lay back against the pillows, looking like a medieval queen upon her throne, and with a single finger, you beckon them closer.

“show me why i should grant your requests. both of you.”

the mattress dips under satoru’s added weight when he sidles up beside you and pulls you into another sweet kiss. since he isn’t quite sure where you’re okay with being touched, he decides to play it safe by cradling the side of your face with his palm—you can feel the energy spike in the air and taste the comfortable petnames he whines into your mouth.

reverant as can be, suguru bows forward and slots himself between your thighs, tossing your legs over his shoulders. he’s radiating enough warmth to be comparable to a damn oven—even through his shirt, you can feel the shape of defined muscle. a shockwave bolts right to your pussy at the thought of stripping them both naked; but you can’t rush. not yet.

wait, this is totally insane! too many thoughts race through suguru’s mind at once, but he doesn’t allow the doubt to impede his rhythm. even the idea of fucking a succubus and ruining sex for the rest of his life doesn’t stop him! those soft lips of his drag hot and languid against the tender skin of your inner thighs, scattering kisses around the place where you need him most. he wonders if succubus pussy tastes different than that of a human’s, and feels his cock leak at the idea of it. it’s painful, being this hard—you must have some kind of divine effect on him.

with your tongue in his mouth, satoru can’t think. he’s completely blissed out, his diamond eyes unfocused and blurry as you kiss his judgment away with those pillowy lips. just when he’s pressing you closer instead of taking a moment to breathe, you grab him by the dick and squeeze. your grip is firm and authoritative, leaving no room for resistance—not that he’d want to, of course.

sharp and delightfully startling, your teeth sink into his lower lip. the light sting reverberates through his head like an echo in an empty hall, and fuck—he gasps, eyes rolling back into his skull. how the hell is he meant to show you that he deserves to have his ridiculous requests granted when you’re playing him like a violin, tugging his heartstrings every which way?

“you’re awfully sensitive, satoru,” you giggle, twisting your wrist. “i haven’t even gotten my bare hands on you yet.”

yet, you say, like you haven’t practically broken him already. he huffs, blowing hair out of his face, and attempts to regain any semblance of control. “well, neither have i.”

you tug your gloves off; suguru’s nose bumps against your clothed clit and you let out a moan, face scrunching. he’s right there—so god damn close to where you need him and still refusing to give. you glance down, only to be met with a smirk and eyes that are twinkling with mischief. have you met your match?

“use your words,” he punctuates his demand with a slow, agonizing drag of his tongue over the thin fabric of your panties. he’s looking at you like he’s daring you to snap at him, like he’s just waiting to show you what he’ll do—what an asshole.

you hum thoughtfully, focusing on suguru while your hand dips beneath satoru’s waistband and teases his cock through his boxers. “i’ll bite. i want you to devour me like a sweet fruit—juices pouring down your chin as you lick the excess from your fingers to savor all of it.”

the piquant visual makes his mind hazy. if you want to be devoured, then devoured you shall be.

“what, you’re gonna leave me hanging?” in an attempt to level the playing field, satoru gropes at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. there. now you’re both grabbing one another.

“poor baby wants attention, huh?” you run your thumb over the tip of his cock, pressing at the wet spot on his boxers. satoru absolutely hates to admit it, but this banter with you is annoyingly enjoyable. your little prank had seemed like a true, honest to god curse, but this is a blessing—each exchange turns up the heat more and more.

suguru’s tugging your panties down your hips, careful not to bring your thigh highs down too. hooded and flushed, his eyes are focused only on your body but do occasionally flick over to satoru, who’s putty in your hands. he goes back and forth with you like his bratty ass usually does with anyone he first meets, and you dish it out right back to him. what a sight.

with an unfortunate rip, your panties are torn off you and the mess of lace is tossed haphazardly to the floor. you arch a brow at suguru, who only shrugs, smirking as he draws closer to your messy cunt. his flutter shut as he runs his tongue through your folds for a taste, and fuck, he really does want to devour you. he’d sit you on his god damn face if he could and let you ride his tongue for hours, until it got so sore he could barely talk the next day.

saccharine and something close to ambrosian, your pussy tastes like all of the good things in this world. it’s addicting, the kind of thing he’d want to come home to on the table every day, and he lets out a deep groan that reverberates through your lower body. his hands come up to your hips and he drags you closer, burying his face against you so he can truly drink you in. the tip of his nose rubs against your clit and feels like an electric shock that zips through your stomach.

“fuck,” you breathe, head falling back onto the pillows, “you know how to use that tongue, don’t you?”

satoru doesn’t say anything. doesn’t ask for your attention, doesn’t make any witty comments about you being more focused on his best friend. he just acts, tucking his face against you and pressing kisses to the slope between your neck and shoulder. most of them are wet and mouthy, while a few of them have a little teeth. large hands come up to your chest and pull away the skimpy lace; the bra is replaced by his palms, and it feels like he’s won when you let out a sigh.

“have at it, satoru. i suppose you’ve earned it.”

a mess that’s equal parts his and yours coats suguru’s flushed cheeks as he slurps up your pussy, holding your hips so tightly that you can only move forward. each pass of his tongue is oh so rough as it dips between your folds, seeking more of your sweetness; he lets out muffled groans and shakes his head from side to side, pressing his nose directly into your clit.

his long, dark hair makes its way into his face, but even so, he pushes forward. it might be a bit of a ticklish distraction, but it will not stop him—nothing could, not even you genuinely threatening to destroy his soul with your bare hands.

satoru moans happily when he gets one of your nipples in his mouth. your skin is so soft, just like he’d wished for, and your tits are like heaven’s version of a pillow. he could lay against you and suck your tits all day long, if you let him. hot and overly eager, his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple while he tweaks the other between his fingers, making sure not to leave you feeling unsatisfied.

with one hand, you push your hands through suguru’s hair, dragging your nails against his scalp. the contact makes him sigh into your pussy, but what really gets him is when you wrap it around your hand and tug like he’s some kind of misbehaving dog on a leash. he grunts noisily, his hips instinctively rutting into the bed for some friction.

“oh my god, suguru. you look so fucking good when you’re making a mess, sweetheart.”

you calling him a sweetheart is going to be the death of him, he swears. it’s already enough that you’re saying his first name, but now you’re throwing petnames around—don’t you know he’ll make you cry for that?

“and you, satoru,” you purr, arching into his touch, “you’ve got my attention now.”

with renewed vigor and sinful intent, your hand moves between his boxers and sweatpants. he sucks harder at your tit, the edges of his teeth grazing the nipple; your fingers loosely curl around the clothed head of his cock. nobody’s getting naked until you cum—if either of them thought this was a lot, they’re in for a succubus-style surprise in the next few minutes.

you stroke him lightly, focusing more on pressing the pads of your fingers into the soft underside of his tip. every touch there makes him gasp and buck into your touch, desperate for more. satoru’s starting to pinch your nipple between his fingers, and the pain that goes with it feels so good, especially when it’s combined with suguru’s mouth between your thighs.

it’s not enough.

there’s so much of your slick coating his face, but he still needs more.

suguru lets go of your hips, changing the positions of his hands. one palm presses into your lower stomach, and he pauses, sucking your clit while he slides two thick fingers inside of you. the sensation of being almost full makes you moan, your hips rolling forward, and you unintentionally squeeze the tip of satoru’s cock, nails digging into the sides.

everything blurs into a nasty whirlwind of spit, sex, and the like from there.

saliva coats much of your sore tits by now, but satoru’s head never comes up. he’s too busy biting at your nipples and then laving his tongue over them to make up for it—whenever you like what he’s doing, you stroke him a little harder. tighter, too, if you’re really feeling it. suguru’s grinding against the bed while he eats you out, something that he’d picked up once you’d started to pull on his hair. the sounds that come from your sloppy cunt are truly obscene—loud, wet slurps and sucks fill the room along with the moans from all three of you.

suguru’s pressing down on your lower belly, because he knows that it makes you feel extra good; selfishly, though, he just wants to feel how tight you can get. he’s lost track of how long he’s been between your legs, and normally, he’d get tired, but the arousal raging through his body keeps him going. so does your hand in his hair—you’re tugging him around, taking all that he gives, and fuck, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“mmmm, baby,” hot and heavy, satoru’s panting against your chest and rutting into your hand, chasing the friction you’re giving him just enough of, “s-shit, that pace—i’m so close, so close.”

your lips round around a moan of suguru’s name; your thighs are shaking on either side of his head, and his eyes flit up to meet yours. again, that same daring look—although he looks more debauched this time, with his flushed, sweaty skin and the lower half of his face buried in your cunt.

pent up with an otherworldly amount of arousal, satoru’s cock throbs in the palm of your hand and his breaths become more frantic, more gasping. he’s trembling, clinging to you with both arms, and you laugh, taking the words right out of his mouth. “you’re gonna cum, huh? you’re really gonna make a mess in your clothes?”

it’s said with a derision that would stop any normal person in their tracks, but satoru just moans, nodding shamelessly. you continue on, fingers tightening around him. “oh, talk about being dirty. you really like the idea of that, don’t you? my god, and i’m supposed to be the sex demon here.”

satoru whines, and it’s most definitely his lust speaking for him when he says, “keep talkin’ dirty to me.”

electric euphoria hisses through your veins, and you’re quick to realize how close you are. just beneath suguru’s large palm, an unstable pressure seethes like magma in a volcano—ultrahot and undeniably explosive. something’s coming, and it’s not just you and satoru.

your fingers press into the underside of his cock, and it’s so damn sensitive there that he gasps sharply, nearly choking on his own spit. you fight the wavering in your voice and lean in close, so that your warm breath fans against the shell of his ear. “this is where you’re weak, right?”

that’s it.

satoru dies and ascends to heaven right then and there. he cums hard, spilling white and hot into your hand, cock jerking with the aftershocks. slumped against you and reeling from the ecstasy racing through his body, satoru has been pronounced dead. for now, at least.

you wipe your cum covered hand across his shirt, feeling the sharp ridges of his abdominal muscles through the fabric. with him taken care of, you can now focus on the main event—suguru can’t even breathe as you rock your hips into his mouth, your face scrunched with concentration.

having pinpointed your sweet spot, his fingers curl deep and hard into the soft tissue. it’s a bullseye if you’ve ever known one. suguru stares up at you like it would physically hurt him to look anywhere else; you can see the hunger buried in his eyes, they way it twinkles as you hump against his open mouth.

“fuck, suguru,” you moan, voice breaking, “i-i’m gonna cum, oh my god—‘m gonna cum.”

you cum hard, pussy squirting like a waterfall and squeezing so damn tight around his fingers that they’re forced out. finally, after what’s been a beautiful eternity, you release his hair so he can pull back and breathe. he does, briefly gulping in some air before swan diving right back between your thighs for more?!

his tongue drags along your soaked inner thighs, and he laps up all of the excess cum before sitting up on his knees. a mix of cum and spit covers more than half of his face, making his skin shine—he really did eat you like a juicy fruit, didn’t he? suguru makes no move to wipe the wetness dripping down his chin, but instead smirks triumphantly.

“i want—i want a taste, suguru. you were hogging her pussy the whole damn time.”

satoru stirs, seemingly coming back to life. wait, did he actually fucking pass out for a minute?

his best friend scoffs, rolling his eyes. “have at it, satoru. i’m sitting up here now.”

satoru’s fingers close around suguru’s wrist, and he pulls his hand toward his mouth. satoru momentarily sucks at suguru’s sticky fingers before the latter puts an end to it, tugging away. if he had a nickel for every time someone sucked on his fingers, he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, and in one night, nonetheless!

the delicate strands of beads on your waist jangle softly, and their heads snap in your direction. you’re on all fours, looking at them with those smoldering eyes that say more than your mouth does, and something in the sweet air shifts. their pulses quicken; their bodies move before they can even think about it.

suguru taps his sticky fingers against your lips and pushes them into your open mouth, letting you taste yourself. “i want to see what this mouth can do, sweetheart.”

satoru’s hands are settling on either side of your waist, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “god, i’ve been waiting for this. pretty pussy for an even prettier girl.”

“please, keep talking to me like i’m a human. we’ll see where it gets you, satoru.”

he smacks your ass, uncaring of the fact that you could smite him if you so wanted to. “the wings and tail are gone, babygirl. since we just proved ourselves as worthy, let’s all pretend to be normal human beings.”

“if you wanted me to keep it normal, we’d be sitting around waiting for you to get hard again. had it not been for my power, you’d—”

suguru tilts your chin up, using your cheek to wipe away the wetness from his fingers. “we’re helping you as much as you’re helping us. satiating that appetite of yours is gonna take a while, so why not go along with it?”

that is true. truthfully, you’re just pushing them around because you can, but they’ve either seen through your act or don’t give a damn about the extra respect. you won’t kill them. you answered their summons with an agenda of your own, one that requires their participation.

“i haven’t played the role of human in a thousand years,” you say contemplatively, just to look like you’re being slowly convinced rather than immediately admitting defeat, “fine. fuck me well and i’ll go along with it equally as well.”

the ritual of undressing begins. you watch as suguru divests himself of his long sleeved shirt and his baggy lounge pants, tossing both articles of clothing onto the floor without looking back. luckily for them, nothing is thrown onto a lit candle. satoru’s clothes come off too, his cum smeared shirt flying over your head and landing on top of the clothing pile.

something akin to nervous excitement swirls in your chest. it’s been a thousand years, and you’re finally back at it again—taking two cocks from the get go. being double stuffed isn’t necessarily a new experience, especially with your past flame, but this is a little bit different. instead of having two cocks in one hole or one in your pussy, the other in your ass, you’re going to be taking one down the throat while getting fucked.

you’re excited, there’s no doubt—satoru’s dragging his tip along your slit, gathering spit and cum to use as lube—and thinking of finally being used again wipes the worry from your subconscious. it’s been so long you can’t even remember what a human cock felt like; the last two demon dicks left quite the impression on both holes, superceding all else.

long, thick, and curving to the right, suguru’s cock bobs in front of your face. you have to tilt your head back just to look up at him fully—there’s so much muscle defining every inch of his body, shaping it into something strong and sturdy. his arms flex as he ties his hair back, into some kind of half up, half down style for better movement.

precum beads at the wet tip, some of it dribbling down. the sight is absolutely appetizing; saliva pools on your tongue, and your throat aches for him. he decides to tease you for a moment, before remembering that he’s actually denying himself relief as well.

suguru guides his tip along the seam of your mouth, getting your lips glossy. he looks down at you, his eyes droopy, and he chuckles. “what’s the matter? too big to fit, honey?

you roll your eyes, opening your mouth. your teeth gleam in the dark, sharp at the ends and a little predatory. “i can always cut you down to size.”

satoru presses the head of his cock forward, working only the first few inches into your pulsing cunt. “that’s not how humans talk about dicks, baby. you should say something like, ‘yeah, but i still want to give it a try’. hear the difference?”

“if i were you, i’d worry about not passing out this time,” you snicker, raising a brow in suguru’s direction. “i won’t actually bite. you have my word.”

“uh huh,” he works a hand into your hair, threading it tight around his fingers, and only then does he bring his hips forward. his cock slides into your mouth, the weight of him hot and heavy on your tongue. faintly, you can taste the subtle saltiness of his precum on your tongue, and god does it make you crave more. suguru exhales sharply once he bumps into the back of your throat, his shoulders relaxing. “not too deep, hm?”

you nod in assent. behind you, satoru pushes deeper and deeper, moving as slowly as he possibly can. for what reason, you don’t know—but the feeling is all that matters right now. it’s as frustrating as it is pleasant, which pisses you off, but there’s nothing you can say about it.

suguru’s starting to rock his hips into your face when satoru’s nails dig into the soft skin of your waist, leaving marks between the strands of beads. “oh my fucking god. how the hell are you this tight? suguru, it’s—she’s literally sucking me in. you have to see this.”

“not right now,” suguru shakes his head and his bangs bounce with the movement. he’s focused on how god damn tight your throat is, and how every single gag of yours makes it even better. everything in his body is telling him to choke you with his cock, fuck your face until neither of you can breathe, but he doesn’t. he’ll take it easy on you, just for now.

satoru finally bottoms out, seven inches deep into heaven. your walls are pulsing around him, sucking him as far in as possible, and he almost feels offended. it’s like your body thinks he wants to pull out—but how could he, when you feel like this? why the fuck would he want to?

“i’m not as gentle,” he growls, pulling your ass snug against his hips. “i’ll fill up this pussy again and a-fucking-gain. you saw it earlier—i don’t mind making a mess.”

you can only let out a gurgled moan around suguru’s cock, spit pouring down your chin. he talks a big game—you’re more interested to see if he can back it up.

once suguru feels like you’re accustomed to his cock and tired of feeling the restraint ripple through his shallow thrusts, he pauses to let you breathe through your nose. “i taught you how to take it, huh?” you nod, clearly interested in what he has to say next. “i want to see if you can put those skills to use, sweetheart. open.”

because he’s still bitter about you having scared the shit out of him and his best friend, satoru slams into you the moment you open your mouth and suguru’s cock goes in. a wide, almost evil smile spreads across his face when he hears you choke; that was his revenge for your little joke a while ago, and this will be to fulfill his own selfish desires.

satoru’s heavy balls smack into your clit with every frenzied thrust of his hips. he’s chasing his high, that sweet feeling of ecstasy that comes along with filling someone up; he also wants to leave some kind of evidence that he was lucky enough to have you, preferably something that you’ll remember. if your exhausted pussy is oozing load after load of his cum, you’ll definitely commit him to memory.

“shit, baby,” the image of you conjured by his mind’s eye is powerful enough to make him whine like a bitch as he ruts into you, “all you’ve done since we summoned you is drive us crazy. ready for some fuckin’ p-payback?”

“she’s too busy to answer you,” suguru sounds both broken and triumphant as he fucks your mouth, savoring the sounds of your wet moans and occasional gags. “this throat’s all i could need for payback. fuck, you really are a fast fuckin’ learner.”

the claps of your ass are loud, ringing through the apartment like gunshots, but none of you could bring yourselves to care about any future noise complaints. your throat is being fucked open while your pussy is stuffed full at the same damn time—maybe this was worth waiting a thousand years for.

satoru’s hand comes to press down hard against your lower belly, making you squeeze tighter around his cock. the added pressure makes it feel like he’s all up in your lungs, punching the breath out of you with each feverish slam of his hips. spit and cum drip down your inner thighs in sticky trails, staining your lacy stockings; a lot of it has gotten all over satoru’s pelvis, strings of it connecting his skin to yours.

you let out an inhuman mewl as suguru’s cock plunges into the very back of your throat, leaving a dent that is uniquely his. you can faintly hear yourself sobbing over the sound of your pounding heart, can feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. this is good, so good—but it feels like too much and too little at the same time. they’re both giving it to you pretty well . . perhaps you’re just insatiable after a thousand years without sex.

suguru breaks first. “i want you to swallow every last drop, and you’re gonna show me that pretty fuckin’ tongue before you do, ‘kay?”

“you’re so nasty,” satoru pants, exerting himself too much to even laugh, “fuck. i’m not that far off either, baby.”

bittersweet cum spills into your mouth, hot and thick on your tongue. suguru’s groaning as he lets go of your hair, looking down to see you follow through on what he asked you to do. you open your mouth, showing off the mess on your pink tongue, and he actually moans at the sight.

“you’re fucking incredible,” he can’t even finish his sentence in peace; you make a big show of swallowing it and making your throat click. “you’re such a good girl.”

“then where’s my reward?” you rasp, sounding even better than before.

“right here,” satoru reaches a hand around your body, his fingers easily finding your swollen clit. his ministrations are executed with the same dexterity he’d exercised on your nipples; each rub or pinch sends sparks shooting through your veins. “cum all over this cock, baby. in fact, scream my name while you’re at it.”

suguru scoffs, hand on his cock as he sits back and watches. “you’re impossible.”

your arms collapse under you, and your body tilts forward, ass going up like a seesaw. “oh my god,” satoru grits his teeth, watching you writhe against the mussed blankets and listening to you moan, “y-you’re so fuckin’ deep, satoru. right there—oh!”

his eyes roll back when you fuck him back, throwing your ass back onto him to meet each and every single one of his sloppy thrusts. you’re angling your hips with each swing, forcing the tip of his dick into this soft spot inside of you, one that’s close to your cervix.

“fuckfuckfuck—ugh, i’m gonna cum,” satoru’s fingers are staggering, shaking on your clit, and his chest is heaving, working to breathe against the impending euphoria. he comes undone with a delicious groan that dissolves into smaller, bitten whines; it’s the heat of his cum shooting deep into you that pushes you over the edge next.

“‘m cumming, satoru,” you manage, your voice breaking pitifully. wave after wave of bliss crashes over your body, nearly drowning you, and it’s a god damn mess when you cum. you’re shaking so hard your teeth are chattering, squirting cum all over satoru’s pelvis while you’re at it; he teases your clit rather roughly and laughs as more sprays onto his skin.

something warm slides against your skin as suguru lifts your face from where it’s pressed into the bed. sticky cum covers both of his hands, and you can only surmise that he was jerking himself off while he watched you and his best friend. “you still with us, angel?”

you are everything but an angel, but you still respond to the petname, nodding. there’s this wild gleam in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know—suguru just nods, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“whew, holy fuck,” satoru steadies himself with a hand on your back, not wanting to pull out of you just yet, “did you actually just squirt on me, baby? this is some next level pussy magic.”

. . .

the bed rocks under all three of your bodies, scraping along the floor and groaning dangerously from the movement on it.

round after round, position after position, orgasm after orgasm.

it’s a neverending cycle that leaves the three of you slick with sweat, panting with exhaustion, and messy with ungodly amounts of cum. suguru slides his cock out of your fluttering cunt with a groan, both him and satoru watching as load upon load of cum oozes out. you never tell them it’s time to take a break—if one’s tired, you’ll fuck the other, or take them at the same time—in fact, you tell them that it’s not enough.

god, you’re insatiable.

satoru gathers the hot globs of cum on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, using the excess as lube for your abused clit. an acidic mix of unequal parts affection and lust hisses through his nerves upon hearing you whine out his name—it’s all your voice has been reduced to thanks to merciless throat fucking and screaming elicited by being split open on their cocks.

this is the nth round of the night—early morning, actually. they’ve been fucking you for a few hours straight, mostly because you’re so horny that it impacts them, but also because your presence opposes refractory periods. it almost hurts, because neither have much left to give, but then you’re pulling another orgasm out of them and nothing feels real again.

eventually, the bedframe snaps with a deafening crack, but nobody stops. in fact, it just reminds you to change positions—satoru fucks you on your side while you sixty-nine with suguru, who sucks your clit and playfully nibbles at it when you choke on his cock. but once that’s over and done with, they’re getting creative as they hoist you off of the bed and take turns fucking you while standing up.

by the time it’s over, you’re left with two uniquely satoru and suguru shaped dents in your stomach.

. . .

“suguru!” mussed with sleep and looking wild because of it, satoru pushes at his best friend, who’s asleep on the floor. how the hell did he even manage to fall asleep when there’s so much debris strewn around? papers, socks, and clean shirts that were once folded surround his body like the chalk outlines at a crime scene. “suguru, dude, c’mon. get up already!”

“what,” suguru deadpans, pushing his hair out of his face. the first thing that he notices is how dry his fingers are when they accidentally graze against his forehead. huh. he could’ve sworn that hand was bloody from a thumb injury. “why are you hassling me first thing in the morning?”

“first, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, and second, i had the craziest dream. you’ll never fucking believe it.”

there’s a beat of silence before suguru’s brows furrow in realization.

“i did too.”

364 notes · View notes

not-a-fucking-mermaid · 3 days ago

Text

One thing that the show did so much better than the films is making the gods just some guys. I always have a hard time watching films about Greek mythology because they never manage to make them grand and mighty and impressive, they always fall short. And I always fail to get invested in the stories because it’s so painfully obvious how mortal these actors are. The Percy Jackson movies were no different, and it just got worse since that’s not the way they’re described in the books either

But the tv show really just said took the random dude vibes from the book and ran with it. They all look like mortals but that’s the whole point. And I can actually enjoy the story instead of cringing at how some conventionally attractive man with a six pack thinks he looks like Zeus

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS | SEASON ONE

The Gods in Season 1 (in order of appearance)

1K notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 5 hours ago

Note

I'm so curious now, what did the reddit creeps say about your bath snacks post? Tumblr interpreted it pretty poorly sometimes so I'm curious how much worse reddit was

Lol, yeah, so

That post has gone past 100K notes on Tumblr, so you naturally get the full range of responses. It's therefore all about proportions. I obviously haven't run actual stats here, but I would estimate the following:

Majority commented some variant on "this is adorable" (including the popular variants "me and who", and "lord I see what you have done for others"). 70%

Significant minority was tagging with fandoms, with one example of fanfic and one memorable example of someone screenshotting, erasing mine and Steff's names, and replacing them with their blorbos. 25%

A smaller minority tags it with the phrase "the straights are alright" or similar sentiments, and have to be informed that neither of us is straight. 3%

A very small minority who can't seem to shut the fuck up about their opinions on bath snacks and don't seem to have heard of the advanced technology that is plates, being as they are absolutely convinced that the snacks would definitely either pour a torrent of crumbs directly into the bath like the dammed outflow of the Yellow River, or become physically saturated with water as I ate. 1%

About 3 people total who tried to tell me this was actually a fetish for my husband that I was innocently unaware of and ORDERING me to nurture it for the sake of his emotional and sexual happiness (lol for many reasons). <1%

1 single incel who lost his entire fucking mind when he saw the phrase "eager bathroom butler" because he thought it was sexist and demeaning to my poor abused husband and went on a weird rant that concluded with "I hope you've learned not to describe someone who loves you like that ever again." <1%

So, yeah. The main issue by a country mile has been the blorbo tagging. Which! In actual fact! Is not in and of itself a problem! Provided, that is, you FIRST acknowledge the real life human beings the post is about. And there has been plenty of that, and I don't mind that at all. Stuff like "Oh my god this is so sweet! OP your husband is amazing. Also this is making me think of (blorbos)"

Respectful, recognising that real human beings exist and not just to be fodder for your fanfic, giving praise where it's due to the star of the post (my husband). I have no issue with that at all.

MEANWHILE OVER ON REDDIT

Almost every single comment was one of the following:

Anything so you can see a naked woman amirite hurr durr

He's definitely doing it so she'll fuck him later haha hope she put out

Wow this dude clearly wants to be her sex slave

And like. What the fuck. What the literal and figurative fuck is that. He sees me naked every day, our sex life does not require transactions, and I'm sorry no one has ever loved you for you to know this, but sometimes you do things for your partner because the end goal is them being happy rather than you being horny.

Absolute wankers to a man.

#asks #compared with that I'll take the blorbos

242 notes · View notes

sarahroutldge · 2 days ago

Text

caveman.

a/n: I wrote this for the brilliant 'make rafe great again' campaign by @zyafics!! It's a bit of a mess and unedited but I hope someone enjoys it!

summary: you may love rafe cameron, but that doesn't mean you have to love his borderline toxic possessiveness and jealousy.

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, fluff, creepy guy behaving creepily (nothing graphic), violent rage on rafe's part (what else is new), alcohol, weed, smoking, mentions of past messy relationships, I'm lazy so I didn't proofread this... uh I think that's it. lmk if I forgot anything!

Parties at the Boneyard are practically rites of passage for the kids who grow up there; whether you’re a kid from the cut or the heir to a multi-million-dollar fortune on Figure Eight, you’re probably spending those summer Friday nights getting drunk or high—most likely both—at the Boneyard. In high school and college, those nights are treasured, rare moments where the parents and grandparents aren’t eyeing their kids, waiting to see them fail.

And sure, maybe, on occasion, things get messy. The Pogues and the Kooks are never quite at peace for long, but usually it blows over before anything truly terrible can happen, as the Kooks involved know that once Deputy Shoupe gets notified, so will their parents. And for the Pogues, one run-in with the police is a future discarded—a scholarship taken away, a college acceptance thrown out, a job opportunity lost.

But it’s hard to care so much about that when you’re a bit tipsy, a bit high, and dancing with your friends under the moonlight. Your boyfriend is just across the beach, drinking with his friends, and you can almost swear that the winks he sends you every once in a while feel like a jolt of electricity. Truly, they’re almost as intoxicating as the weed and the alcohol.

Kiara spins you around, and the two of you twirl across the makeshift dancefloor (which is really just sand), as you enjoy a drama-free night. The wind is just strong enough to provide an extra breeze to what would usually be a much hotter, much more humid Outer Banks night. And the music has mellowed from Top 40 hits to some softer, bedroom pop. You don’t know the words, but you’re having too much fun to care.

Unfortunately, though, nothing in the Outer Banks is ever truly uneventful. The bliss you’ve taken for granted is shattered without warning, when you feel a sweaty, unfamiliar hand grasping at your midsection. Immediately turning around, your hand drops from Kiara’s, and you make eye contact with the tall, unfamiliar man before you (a Touron, if you had to guess). Not wanting to make that much of a fuss, you simply shake your head, hoping he’ll get the message. But he’s either too wasted or simply doesn’t care, and he reaches for your waist again, and this time his grip is strong enough to pull you back into his chest.

“What the hell, dude?” Kiara bites, before pushing him off of you. “Get off our beach if all you’re planning on doing is acting like a perv,” she adds. You grab her hand, squeezing it in thanks.

The man raises his hands up as if he’s totally innocent, and you just scoff. Thankfully, though, he seems to finally take a hint, as he turns around. Kiara looks up at you, and opens her mouth as if to speak. But unfortunately, before she can, you hear the familiar but worrying shout of your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, from behind you.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rafe starts, before shoving the man’s back.

You can immediately sense where this is going, and frankly, you’re not up for it. “Rafe, it’s fine. Let’s just go.”

Rafe turns around. “It’s not fucking fine. He’s scum.”

And just as you’re about to grab your boyfriend’s hand and pull him away, the stranger turns around. “Hey man, it was an honest mistake.”

“Yeah? Well, next time, ask a girl before you put your fucking hands on her, especially when that girl is my girlfriend.”

“Rafe, please, let’s not do this. I just wanna go home,” you chime in, hoping that you’re loud enough for him to hear over his rage.

“You didn’t want to go home until this prick put his hands on you,” Rafe argues.

And while you were annoyed before, now you’re irritated. “Rafe, let’s go,” you say, colder.

He stares at you for a minute, and then looks around, noticing that the man who touched you has walked away. He huffs, his fists balled in anger, and then he walks away from you. You watch as Rafe walks across the sand, away from the crowd.

“Do you want to go after him?” Kiara asks, feeling awkward about the obvious tension between you and your boyfriend.

“No. He just needs to blow off some steam.”

Kiara nods. “Are… are you okay?” she asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… That was gross. And I’m mad at that guy, but unfortunately, shit like this happens. And I’m tired of having to deal with Rafe’s temper tantrums every time we go out.”

“Any other time, I’d get it. Believe me. But this wasn’t just a guy getting too close—he wouldn’t back off. That piece of shit deserved whatever punch Rafe was gonna give him.”

“It’s not about what the guy did. Trust me, I’d be happy to see him get punched. It’s the possessiveness that bothers me. It’s like Rafe thinks I’m helpless without him,” you explain.

“I promise that’s not true,” Kiara assures you, but even she seems a little unsure of the words she’s saying. “Look, I’m not Cameron’s biggest fan—”

“I’m aware,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes.

Kiara chuckles. “But this time, I think that guy deserved what was coming to him. And it’s so obvious that Rafe loves you. Maybe your anger is a bit misplaced.”

You shake your head, trying to get her to understand your point of view. “Shit like this has happened before, Kie. And with guys that were way less upfront than that one. It’s not that I’m mad he defended me; I’m mad that he sees me as some damsel in distress, someone who can’t function without him as a bodyguard. I just wish he’d have a bit more faith in me.”

Your friend considers your words for a minute, ultimately giving you a tight smile. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You can hang with us at the Chateau while your man figures his shit out.”

She tosses her arm around your shoulder, and your mouth curves into a reluctant smile. As the two of you make your way off the beach, your head turns behind you, looking out for your troublesome but usually well-meaning boyfriend. He’s far away now, but you can still sense the frustration radiating from him in waves.

A few days pass before you see Rafe again. You’ve texted a bit back and forth, putting some space between the two of you. You know you’ll forgive him eventually, but you need time to consider how to move forward. Rafe’s issues with anger and jealousy span far back into his childhood. And it might not be your job to “fix” them, but you can’t help but want to.

Rafe is complicated, always has been. From his issues with his father to his struggles with hard drugs and history of getting into fights, there’s a lot of darkness swirling around in that brain of his. For the longest time, he struggled with asking for help, lacking the attention and care of a parent who could teach their child how to deal with the toughest emotions. But you won’t deny that he’s gotten better at it. He’s matured in a way that his younger teenage self would never have imagined, and the responsibilities of adulthood combined with the weekly therapy appointments (that only you and his sisters know about) have helped to mellow him, giving him the tools with which to face his demons.

And that’s why you won’t give up on him.

Midsummer’s is just around the corner. Though balls and galas in the name of “charity” are certainly not rare on Figure Eight, Midsummer’s is always one of the grandest and most important (at least in the minds of the Eight’s parents and authority figures). For the teenagers, it’s a time to converse with adults about the future, hopefully landing connections that will help with the process of college applications and even internships later on. For the parents and grandparents, it’s the perfect time to show off the family unit; those who live on the island year-round and the families that stay just for the summer all come together to brag about the past year’s “achievements.” For those in their early twenties like you and Rafe, it’s a time to take advantage of the open bar and see the friends from high school that you haven’t seen in a while.

This year, however, is the first year that Rafe and you are attending as a couple. Your table is a mix of the Cameron family (plus Sarah’s boyfriend John B. who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else), your own family, and a few singles. Normally, this would be an occasion for pressure, but your families have known each other throughout the years, as the Figure Eight scene has always been a tight circle.

After the main courses have been served and the parents have swapped conversations about business for the latest gossip, the band’s music starts to slow. The sun has set and the moon looks stunning over the country club, reminding you of just how lucky you’ve been to grow up in a place so beautiful. And even though you and Rafe are a bit rocky, you almost forget it. The tipsiness from a few too many unclassy shots behind the bar with your friends has set in, and Rafe’s hand on your thigh feels almost too hot for a night like this. He squeezes the bare thigh uncovered by the slit in your dress every once in a while, as the two of you shift in and out of conversations with your family. It’s almost going too well.

That is, until your father mentions your cousin’s upcoming marriage when he speaks to Ward.

“She’s the first of my nieces to get married. We’re all thrilled, and the wedding is only two months away.” He shifts a bit, seeking your attention. “Y/N, honey,” he says, and you turn your head to face your father, away from the pleasant and lighthearted conversation you’ve been having with Sarah and her boyfriend.

“Yes, Dad?”

“I still need to book the tickets for your trip with your cousin, so please send me the dates tomorrow at the latest. Or else you’re going to have to find your own way to pay for them,” he adds, laughing at himself like it’s the most ludicrous thing in the world.

“Will do, Dad,” you add, and as soon as the words have left your mouth you go back to the conversation with your friends.

But before you can speak, you feel the hand that’s been on your thigh move to your hand, squeezing to get your attention.

“What trip was your dad talking about?” Rafe asks, unsure of why this hasn’t been mentioned before.

“Oh, Rafe, I’ve told you about this. I’m going away with my cousin and a few other girls in a few weeks for her bachelorette party.”

Rafe considers this. He knew you’d mentioned a vacation, but he could’ve sworn it was a family trip up to visit your grandparents. His jaw clenches, though his tone remains the same. “Where is it?”

“Miami. We’re all staying in one large suite at a beach resort that I can’t remember the name of.”

He nods. “Why can’t I come?”

You hesitate. He did hear the word bachelorette, right? “Rafe, it’s a bachelorette party. You’d be the only guy there.”

And yet he doesn’t seem to get it. “Exactly. Babe, you’ll be going to bars in Miami without me or any other guys. And as much as I love you, you’re the clumsiest drunk I know,” he adds, with a smirk. Clearly, he thinks you’ll find his comment funny. Though you normally would, he says it with a condescending tone that makes you drop the hand you’ve been holding.

“I can take care of myself, Rafe.”

“Can you?” he asks, not yet sensing the change in mood.

“Yes!” you respond, more sternly but without raising your voice. “I’ve taken care of myself drunk way longer than you and I have been together. I think I can manage a few days in Miami with my cousin and her friends.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, not understanding where your anger is coming from.

“I know you can take care of yourself, babe, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m a guy—I know how guys behave. And you’re nice—sometimes too nice—and it makes me worry about you.”

“I am a grown woman, Rafe. I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were helpless, and you know it. Why are you fighting with me over this? It’s like you think I’m the bad guy, and not whatever perv is gonna start groping you in a sticky Miami bar.”

Frankly, you’re stunned, and a thought comes to your head. Is he really worried for me—or does he not trust me? But you don’t feel like voicing your opinion out loud, and you need to cool off. You stand up out of your seat, and shove your chair in. The action draws the eyes of your family, but you ignore your mother asking where you disappeared to. You need fresh air.

Taking the path you and every other Figure Eight kid knows from the time they’re fifteen years old, you follow through the winding hallway of the club that leads out back, to where the waiters and other club employees take their breaks. The immediate gust of wind feels refreshing on your face, and you walk to the edge of the parking lot.

Your feet take you to the abandoned dock that, for whatever reason, was never taken down when the country club was renovated a few decades ago. It’s hidden behind overgrown trees and weeds, and you breathe in relief at the absence of anyone else there. Though from here you can still faintly hear the sounds of the event behind you, it’s quiet enough to where you can also hear the swamp waters crash against the dock, and the night bugs buzzing around you.

The edge of the dock is too dirty for you to sit down on—your eagle-eyed mother would immediately notice any stain on your dress and berate you for it—so you simply stand there, thinking about the boyfriend you left at the table. The look on Rafe’s face just makes you let out a harsh chuckle. It occurs to you at that moment that your boyfriend is either an idiot or really entitled. Maybe he’s both.

You’ve dealt with this shit before, and Rafe knows that. He knows that your most recent boyfriend before him was controlling and overprotective in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. It’s why you broke up in the first place.

Does he not even listen to me?

The small but effective cardigan that covers your shoulders begins to itch, and you reach to take it off, only to stumble upon something in the left pocket. When your hands grasp the item, you immediately sigh in relief, pulling it out.

The pack of cigarettes is old, of course; you haven’t worn this sweater since high school, but it was the only one that even somewhat went with your dress tonight. And Outer Banks summer nights have always had a bit of a chill to them. Your fingers carefully open the pack, pulling out one of three cigarettes left, before setting the pack down next to your feet. You drag it to your lips, holding it there as your fingers naturally reach for the lighter in the opposite pocket.

It takes a few flicks before a flame is successfully lit. You draw it to the end of the cigarette, an inhale.

About halfway into your second cigarette, you hear the sounds of footsteps on the creaking dock.

“You hate when I smoke,” he says, and though the immediately recognizable voice of Rafe Cameron should be comforting, in the aftermath of the argument it’s only agitating.

“I don’t want to do this now,” you say without turning around to face him. He nods, though you don’t see, before walking a few more steps.

He’s about a foot away from you, and you still haven’t turned. “Look, Y/N, I only—”

And his insistence on talking only adds to your irritation. Turning around your heel, you look him right in the eyes, meeting his blank face. “No, Rafe, you don’t get to speak.”

“But I—”

“No,” you say, and he finally seems to understand.

A beat passes, and he nods, encouraging you.

“Rafe, I love you. I really love you. But I don’t love you enough to deal with distrust that clearly comes from a place of insecurity rather than genuine concern. I’m not saying that you don’t have any concern for me; I’m saying that whatever your little interrogation was back at the table felt more like an insult than anything else. And you know the shit I went through with Noah. So don’t act as if my rage is misplaced or coming out of nowhere. I’ve done this shit before and I know I deserve better, Rafe.”

You take an inhale of the cigarette, before exhaling right in his face. He rolls his eyes at the action, but you remain unbothered. “Can I say something now?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He looks hesitant, but he proceeds anyway. “I’m not great with words—you know this. I’m not good at expressing myself eloquently, and one of the things I like so much about you is that I don’t ever feel like I need to. You know what I’m feeling even when I can’t find the words to describe it, and you don’t push me to.”

He waits a bit, eyes searching your face to ensure that you’re paying attention. When he finds at least a bit of interest in your eyes, he continues.

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t get why you ran off before.”

“I can tell.”

He ignores the snark in your comment. “But it doesn’t matter whether I get it or not. What matters is that I love you and I trust you. And I did sound a bit like a dick.”

“Just a bit?” you ask, and he tries not to smile at your question. Clearly, he’s headed in the right direction with his speech if you’re willing to even joke with him.

“Fine, I deserve that,” he accepts. “I mess up a lot. Like a lot. I don’t always say the right things and I don’t always express my feelings in the most polite way, but I’m working on it. I promise.”

“Rafe, that’s just the problem. I’m tired of hearing you say that you’re working on it—I want to actually see the change. I can’t do the possessive caveman shit again, I can’t. And I don’t like feeling like your teacher. I’m your girlfriend; as much as I care about you and want to help you with shit like this, it can’t be all our relationship is.”

He nods. “I know, babe. You deserve better than that.” And something in his tone makes you want to lean into his sincerity, trusting that he actually gets how you feel. You drop the butt of the cigarette, and he stomps it out with his foot. “Your mom would go insane if you ruined those heels.”

You smile… just a bit. Testing the waters, he brings a hand up to your face, and your body reacts by leaning in, craving his touch. Even when you’re mad at him, he’s the one you yearn for. But before you can get swept away in the magic, you need to make sure that he gets your point. Your hand reaches up to his and pulls it down. He immediately frowns at the action, and it takes all the willpower you possess to not abandon your speech when his lips pout in that adorable way that they do.

Instead, you squeeze his hand in assurance, and his pout morphs into something less worrying, more hopeful.

“Rafe, I don’t mind that you get worried sometimes. I don’t even mind that you get a little jealous. They’re your feelings and you’re entitled to them. But you’re not entitled to talk to me the way that you just did. I love you and I would never, ever do anything to risk that.” You punctuate your declaration by bringing your hands to his face, pulling him down to meet you. He settles into the familiar action, and leans in.

“I’ll work on it, I promise,” he says, only an inch away from your lips.

You nod, sensing the truth in his words. “Thank you.”

His blue eyes look into yours with a gleam of hope. With the natural habit that comes with almost a year of dating, his lips come to press against yours, as his hands fall to your hips. The moment is picture perfect, and your hands run down his tux-covered chest. It’s gentle at first, almost hesitant—just like when you first started dating. But then it moves into something deeper, as you feel his hands squeeze at your hips and his lips move against yours, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. What started out as something soft and romantic quickly becomes something much more crazed and heated, with whines and sloppy kisses drowning out the noise of the waters behind you and the country club in the distance.

You make out like teenagers, hidden away from everyone else as if you’re not both grown adults in a serious committed relationship. It’s thrilling and messy, filled with passion and earnestness, as if he’s trying to convince you of his promise with the kiss. And you love it.

But unfortunately, the fog of youth can only last for so long. Your immature but intoxicating makeout session is too-soon interrupted by the sounds of your boyfriend’s closest friends, Kelce and Topper.

“I told you they’d be making out,” Topper says, and you and Rafe immediately jump apart as if your parents have caught you. But he refuses to drop you entirely, instead pulling you with him as he turns to face his friends.

His mood quickly shifts from slightly annoyed to severely unimpressed when he sees Topper take a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, passing it to Kelce. “Really?” he asks. You roll your eyes at the juvenile bet. He pulls you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hey, you have no reason to be mad, Cameron. You’re not the one with twenty dollars less in their pocket,” Kelce bites back, and Topper just snickers.

“Not really my problem and also not my fault,” Rafe retorts. You can’t help but giggle at the petty argument, and Rafe’s heart swells knowing that your argument has been resolved. Maybe not completely, but he knows the two of you will move forward. You always do.

As the two boys in front of you begin to bicker more about God-knows-what, Rafe leans down to your ear. “You reek of cigarettes by the way.”

“And since when does that bother you?”

“Oh, I couldn’t care less. But your mother—”

You huff, not letting him finish. “Don’t even go there. Let’s sneak out through the back parking lot.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. Come on.” He grabs your hand, tugging you forwards. The two of you shove through Topper and Kelce, but Rafe couldn’t care less. You quickly make your way across the parking lot, hand-in-hand.

“And maybe since I won’t be joining you on the Miami trip, you could give me a little show of all the bikinis I won’t get to see,” he adds with a smirk.

You gasp in mock agitation, but the mischievous glint in your eyes tells him that you’re back in tune with him. “Only if you’re on your best behavior,” you tease back.

I'm soooo bad at endings so apologies for that - but otherwise hope y'all enjoyed!! and here's a reminder that requests are very much open :)

also again - shoutout to zyafics for this clever campaign!! I loved participating and I encourage y'all to read the other great fics written for it <3

#zyafics-mrgacampaign #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron reader insert #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #she writes

284 notes · View notes

belli5 · 3 days ago

Text

Bestfriend's bestfriend .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis Will’s best friend and his teammate start to fall for each other, during a family dinner, they sneak outside and finally share a kiss they’ve both been waiting for.

Tags/contains Fluff, Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader. Kissing(grow up pls??), light jealousy(implied), cute awkward teens in love.

➺ from Sera, to you 📨. The gif is so funny to me 😭😭. Also could you tell what is my favourite picture of Mack?

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it! Please do NOT rewrite/repost my work anywhere else without permission!

You and Will had been best friends since before you could even talk.

Your moms had met at a prenatal yoga class, back when both of them were pregnant, hormonal, and in desperate need of someone who didn’t judge their swollen ankles or chocolate cravings. That friendship bloomed fast and fiercely, so naturally, the moment you and Will were born just weeks apart, you were unofficially adopted into each other’s families.

Birthday parties were always joint, sleepovers were co-ed and entirely normal, and even when puberty made things awkward for about six months, your friendship never cracked. Will was the kind of guy who knew your Starbucks order by memory and sent your mom a Mother’s Day text every year. And you? You knew all his pre-game rituals and had listened to him rant about line changes since peewee hockey.

So when Will was drafted and moved to San Jose, it wasn’t a question of if you’d be visiting, it was how soon and how often.

You showed up with a duffel bag and an iced coffee for him the first weekend after he got settled in.

“You know, my teammates are gonna think we’re dating,” he told you, swinging your bag over his shoulder like it was nothing.

You rolled your eyes. “Let them. Maybe they’ll leave you alone.”

Will snorted. “Doubtful. These guys are vultures.”

He wasn’t wrong. Will had been drafted alongside another top pick, Macklin Celebrini, buzzed about constantly, hyped as the future of hockey, and Will had clicked with him almost instantly. Their friendship wasn’t much different than yours and Will’s, just with more chirping and endless hours of hockey.

Which is exactly why he was so excited to introduce you. “You’re gonna love Mack,” he said as the two of you walked into the team apartment. “He’s like… me if I was more Canadian, and way more obsessed with protein powder.”

You snorted. “Wow. Sounds like the love of my life.”

Will grinned, unlocking the door. “Don’t say that too loud. He might fall in love with you instead.”

You didn’t think much of it. Will always joked like that, teased you about guys at school or the poor souls who tried sliding into your dms. But the moment you walked in, Mack turned around from the kitchen, and suddenly, you understood why Will brought him up so much.

The first thing you noticed? He was stupidly cute. Tall, broad shoulders under a worn out hoodie, with messy hair and soft green eyes that lit up the moment Will said, “This is my best friend I told you about, Y/n.”

Macklin smiled at you like you’d just stepped out of a dream. “Hey.”

You gave a little wave, casual. “Hey.”

Will blinked between you two. “Okay. Weird energy.”

“No?!” you said at the same time Mack said, “Nice to meet you.” You were already fighting a smile and so was he. And from that moment, Mack was done for.

He didn’t mean to fall head over heels for you, but It just happened.

At first, he tried to be chill. You were Will’s best friend, and Mack wasn’t about to step on that. But then you kept showing up, after practice, for movie nights, to hang out on weekends. And every time, Mack found himself watching you a little too closely.

The way you laughed with Will, how you pulled your hair up when you got frustrated, the way you leaned against the kitchen counter with a juice box in your hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He was completely wrecked. “Dude,” Will said one night, catching him mid stare.

Mack blinked. “What?”

Will looked at him like he was an idiot. “You’re in love with her.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You look at her like she hung the moon.”

Mack shrugged, feeling his ears heat. “She’s cool.”

“She’s my best friend,” Will said, mockingly protective.

“I know that.”

Will narrowed his eyes, then leaned back on the couch. “Just don’t be weird about it. And don’t flirt in front of me. I’ll vomit.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “I’m not flirting.” But he totally was.

Little things, asking if you wanted the last slice of pizza (even when he really wanted it), remembering the drink you always grabbed from the gas station, offering to drive you home when it got late. He couldn’t help it, you were magnetic.

And the worst part? You were completely, blissfully unaware.

One night, after a Sharks home game, you came back to the apartment with Will and Mack to crash.

You were in your usual spot, Will’s couch, legs tucked under you, hoodie sleeves bunched around your hands. Mack watched you from the armchair, trying not to look too obvious about it.

“I don’t get how you guys still have energy after skating for hours,” you said, yawning. “I’d be horizontal for three days.”

“You are horizontal,” Will said.

“I meant in bed, idiot.”

Mack smiled, lips twitching. Will grinned, nudging him with his foot. “See? She’s violent. Not girlfriend material.”

You raised a brow. “Good thing I’m not dating you.”

“Ouch.”

Mack just shook his head, pretending not to be hanging on every word. Later, when Will dozed off halfway through a movie, you glanced over at Mack.

“He always does this,” you whispered, nodding to Will’s slumped figure. “I swear, his internal battery just shuts down.”

Mack laughed softly. “At least he’s predictable.”

You smiled at him and Mack felt it in his chest.“You’re really good for him,” you said. “He’s got a lot on his plate, but it’s nice knowing he’s got someone like you around.”

Mack blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice gentle. “I can tell he trusts you.”

He looked at you for a second too long. “He trusts you more.”

You gave a soft shrug, like it was no big deal. “That’s different. We’ve been through everything together.”

“I wish I knew you back then.”

That surprised you. “What do you mean?”

Mack leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know. Just.. it would’ve been cool to grow up around someone like you.”

You paused, eyes studying him. “Well,” you said, smile tugging at your lips, “you’ve got me now.”

And he was screwed, after that night.

He found excuses to be around more when you visited. He started replying to your Instagram stories, reacting to your TikToks, sending you memes and dumb hockey jokes. Nothing serious, but enough that you started texting him too. Inside jokes formed quickly. You even got in the habit of stealing his hoodie when Will wasn’t looking.

When you both got really, really closer, it was when Will invited Mack to your both family dinner. It was tradition, Smith family dinners were a sacred thing.

At least once a month, your family and Will’s would get together for a big meal. There was always too much food, too many voices talking at once, and at least one heated debate over a card game by the end of the night.

This time, it was Will’s mom who hosted and this time, Will invited Macklin.

“Wait, you’re bringing Macklin to family dinner?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you helped your mom pack up containers of pasta salad and garlic bread.

“Yeah, why not?” Will said casually. “You guys are obsessed with each other anyway.”

You stopped scooping salad. “We are not.”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “You literally are.”

“You’re delusional.”

Macklin showed up looking painfully cute, clean hoodie, hair styled like always, a shy little smile when your mom hugged him like she’d known him for years.

He sat next to you at the dinner table. Not across, not near, but right next to you, thigh brushing yours every time either of you moved. And he didn’t move away and you didn’t either.

Everyone was in a good mood, your parents chatting with Will’s, the table loud with laughter and wine and the smell of roasted chicken. Will was busy challenging your dad to a ridiculous trivia game, which left you and Mack to yourselves for a moment, quietly stealing bites of dessert off the same plate.

You had asked Macklin if we wanted to step out with you, because you couldn’t help but seek the feeling of being alone with him.

You slipped away from the table without much fuss, everyone too distracted by dessert and wine refills to notice and the two of you wandered toward the side of the house, where it was quiet and cool and just a little bit dark. The sky was still holding on to the last hints of orange, stars barely starting to show.

You walked in silence for a few seconds until you both stopped at the edge of the driveway, leaning against Will’s dad’s parked truck.

At one point, he leaned over and said quietly, “Kinda feels like I’m crashing a family holiday.”

You smiled, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’re not. They love you.”

His voice dipped lower. “What about you?”

You sighed, avoiding his question. “It gets kind of crazy in there.”

Mack nodded. “In a good way.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated. “You.”

You turned toward him fully now, heart kicking up just a little. “Oh?”

He shifted on his feet, suddenly bashful in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I was just trying to figure out if I should kiss you or not.”

You blinked. “Why would you even question it?”

Mack let out a breathy laugh, looking down at the space between you. “Because you’re Will’s best friend. And I didn’t want to ruin anything. But honestly?” He glanced up again, eyes soft and searching. “I’ve kinda wanted to kiss you since the day I met you.”

You stepped closer, just enough for your shoes to bump. “Mack,” you whispered, “just kiss me already.”

And he did, slow and gentle, his hands gently moving up to touch your jaw like he was scared to mess it up. But his mouth was warm and careful against yours, like he’d been waiting, like this meant something. And to you, it did.

When you pulled away, it was barely an inch. “I’ve kinda wanted to kiss you too,” you murmured.

Mack grinned, the nervousness falling away. “Okay, good.”

#belli5 #macklin celebrini x reader #macklin celebrini #mc71 #mc71 x reader #sj sharks #hockey #x reader #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl #nhl imagine #san jose sharks

168 notes · View notes

poppyseed-cookie · 2 days ago

Text

(In honor of 1,000 notes, here’s the story behind this post)

Haha it’s a little roleplay au. I’ll explain it since u asked, it’s actually a lot less focused on the art I showed than you’d think. Warning, it’s all beast x ancient (this is a shadowvanilla post so I doubt that’s much of a problem for ppl but in case yall don’t like the other bxa ships)

Soo, for whatever mysterious reason, the Ancients get transported back in time to before the Beasts were corrupted. Millennial Tree, having powers of Time and all, noticed this happened, and said “okay, don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get you guys back to when you’re supposed to be. As long as you don’t create or destroy any life, I should be able to fix the timeline, so just hang out and have fun or whatever until I figure out how to get you guys back”

So the Ancients are just like “cool vacation in prehistoric times ig (we call them prehistoric times cuz technically the history of these times is practically all erased lol)” so they just tour around and see what the Beasts were like in the past as Virtues.

First off, we don’t have Silent Salt lore, so White Lily just went “awesome I love studying things that cookies shouldn’t normally be able to” and just completely wandered off doing her research on literally everything and they just don’t see her 😭 ngl I keep imagining she’s going to Solidarity Salt’s Concerts for some reason I can’t make this canon I don’t think they held concerts why would they be a singer I shouldn’t even be typing this I haven’t even told my sister (the one I rp this with) this stupid idea

ANYWAYS… Golden Cheese just goes sight seeing, not wanting to get into any trouble. Hollyberry wants to go see the Garden, but immediately gets distracted by visiting all the bars she can find and tasting all the prehistoric drinks. Pure Vanilla enrolls into the Fount of Knowledge’s school because he just wants to see what his teachings were like. Dark Cacao… the real story begins with him.

Dark Cacao saw that cookies lined up to get their wishes granted by Master Flour Cookie. He figured, since that’s his beast and all, he should go and see what it’s like. So he stood in line and eventually got to her. She asked him what his wish was, and then he realized he stood in line that WHOLE time not having a wish. He said “uhhh I just came here because I wanted to see you”. Master Flour’s not really sure what to do about that one. It feels really awkward so Dark Cacao asks her what her favorite food is. She answers, and he wishes for some of it, which she grants, but only for him to tell her to have it. He remembered that cookies weren’t very nice to the Beasts from what he could gather, so he figured he’d do something a little nice for her. Then he left.

Master Flour Cookie was stunned. A cookie shows up with only the desire to see her? And wishes she would give herself a treat? She’d never had a cookie be so kind and selfless to her. She goes to the other Virtues and tells them about this mysterious cookie that warmed her heart, and Sugar of Happiness immediately encourages her to pursue this feeling of happiness. Master Flour’s not sure if she can, but the other Virtues, especially Sugar of Happiness and Fount of Knowledge, offer their help.

So Dark Cacao is just walking around when suddenly the Sugar of Happiness swoops down from the skies, picks him up, and flies him over to the Ivory Pagoda. Scariest moment of his life. Once he’s there he discovers that Master Flour Cookie is interested in him. Romantically. Oh no no no. How could this happen??? This is the beast of APATHY. It’s so unnatural to see her this flustered… she’s not supposed to like anyone!! But what’s Dark Cacao gonna do? Break her heart? Nope.

So when he gets back to his Ancient friends he explains the situation. They’re all shocked. “What did you do to make Mystic Flour fall in love with you??” but when he explains what he did, they all go “OH MY GOSH UNMATCHED RIZZ!!!! DUDE YOU TOTALLY RIZZED HER UP!!!! THAT WAS SMOOTH!!!!” He doesn’t believe it except he has to believe it because why else is he in this situation. Also I can’t forget to mention that the Fount of Knowledge approached Dark Cacao, circled around him, nodded, and left at one point which also terrified him. (Fount was analyzing him to figure out what sort of things he likes to help Master Flour out in her dating escapades)

Now let’s have a look at Pure Vanilla. It’s VERY IMPORTANT to note, that, this au is based on my roleplay, and in that roleplay, Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP. So, he enrolled into school to see what his Present boyfriend was like in the Past. He’s been studying at the Blueberry Milk Academy, and enjoying it for the most part… but there was one thing that ruined it for him. And that was the other students in his class. They didn’t enjoy the Fount’s more creative ways of teaching (especially the songs they were forced to learn) and would sometimes talk during lessons. Pure Vanilla would sometimes snap at his classmates if they were disrupting the Fount’s lessons, and was always very encouraging of the Fount’s creative lessons. He always spoke many praises of the teacher and how he’s proud of him for doing such a good job teaching the class.

This is also where his classmates ruin the experience for him. He didn’t have many friends. That’s because… there was a rumor about him going around class. A rumor that he was crushing HARD on the teacher. His classmates were all very disturbed by this and constantly told him “dude the Fount of Knowledge isn’t gonna screw you” and he kept insisting that was NOT his goal, he’s NOT into the Fount, he just really enjoys class. Yet his excellent grades didn’t help the rumors. He was basically the “teachers pet” except nobody called him that especially because it felt more like he wanted the TEACHER to be HIS pet. Pure Vanilla is absolutely stunned at these rumors. Like, sure that’s his future boyfriend, but he wasn’t trying to do anything!!! Just school!!!

For a while, it’s just rumors and a lack of friends. But eventually, the Fount starts to see the evidence pile up that his top student Likes him. He doesn’t know how to react, and confides in his fellow Virtues that one of his students seems into him. A very good, kind, and attentive student. Seeing as they all got Master Flour a boyfriend, they immediately encourage Fount to pursue this as well. No one had ever treated the Fount as lovingly as Pure Vanilla, so he went along with this idea, not receiving any help since he can already see Pure Vanilla during the day and he also hates admitting when he’s not sure what to do so of course he wouldn’t ask for any further help.

So one class, the Fount nervously asks to see Pure Vanilla after class. He’s surprised by this but is like “ok”. His classmates are STUNNED. “Surely not…” they think. After class it’s just Fount and PV. Fount gets really flustered and says “so, um, d-do you want to, um- NEVER MIND!!!” and he tries to run away but trips and almost cries from embarrassment. Pure Vanilla is nice about it and tries to make sure he’s ok. PV gets the message and gently accepts Fount’s offer, careful not to scare him off. Sooo now they’re a thing.

Also yes, Dark Cacao and Master Flour are dating. He didn’t want to break her heart. He has tried coming up with excuses for why it wouldn’t work out but she grants wishes bro she has the power of Volition SHE CAN MAKE IT WORK. He refuses to say “I’m not interested” so there’s nothing he can do (but is he really not interested…?).

Pure Vanilla tells his Ancient friends that he’s dating the Fount of Knowledge now. They are not surprised, except for the fact that TWO of them are now dating Virtues. At least THIS time Pure Vanilla was ACTUALLY already dating the guy in the present…

Seeing as this post is focused on purefount y’all probably want me to go into more detail about that. They’ve had a lot of developments and gotten really close, the Fount of Knowledge lets Pure Vanilla call him Blueberry Milk now and he’s learned things that he didn’t know about Shadow Milk. Blueberry Milk is willing to be so open to Pure Vanilla in part BECAUSE he has this strange sense that the two of them have a far deeper connection than normal cookies, not realizing they are actually soulmates.

In terms of close calls like the post, Blueberry Milk DID absolutely scare the life out of Pure Vanilla by asking “oh by the way, I don’t recognize the fields you grew up in! Where is that? Oh, right, forgot to mention, I looked into your memories 😊” Pure Vanilla considers himself very lucky that he seems to have ONLY looked into his childhood, which doesn’t have any super incriminating evidence of being a time traveler with a soul jam, (Blueberry Milk was only curious WHERE Pure Vanilla came from, that’s why he only checked as far back as he could remember) but the fact that Blueberry Milk has the power to see into his memories is very concerning. Luckily the Fount doesn’t seem too interested in prying, but man.

The other Ancients start to get concerned about all this plus the fact that Blueberry Milk has discovered that the cookies catching the attention of the Virtues (skipped over GC and BS don’t worry I’ll loop back to that shortly) are all actually friends, AND wants to come over and visit them sometime, they’re like “listen we know you love Blueberry Milk and we’re letting Dark Cacao date Mystic Flour (DC in the background: help) but this is starting to get dangerous. That’s one of the most powerful cookies in existence when it comes to magic, if anyone could ruin the time fixing stuff it could be the Fount, plus what if discovering that it becomes Shadow Milk causes that to happen early and cookies die?”

But Pure Vanilla just caaaan’t stop loving his precious partner. Sooo let’s go back a bit and see what happened with Golden Cheese Cookie.

She was just sight seeing as per usual, going around one of the Herald of Change’s kingdoms to admire the culture and architecture there, not realizing that the Herald himself would actually BE there. He noticed her wings and was captivated by her IMMEDIATELY. He went up to her and said “hey! Why do you have wings?” to which Golden Cheese panicked and said “oh, I was raised by cheesebirds.” Herald of Change said “ohhh that makes sense” and immediately went to the Fount of Knowledge to ask about what cheesebirds like. That’s how Blueberry Milk discovers that the Herald is now interested in Golden Cheese, PV also happened to be there and was just internally like “ohhh no”

Unlike with the other two, when the Herald tells the other Virtues about his newfound crush, they aren’t as intrigued or encouraging. The Herald was one of the only Virtues to actually date around. This wasn’t new or exciting to them, and it’s not even like Golden Cheese had done anything to win him over, he just thought she was pretty. Still, Blueberry Milk was always happy to help the Herald (important part of our roleplay lore tbh) and hunted down Golden Cheese for him so that it could scan her and learn what she likes, since the Herald really wanted to know.

Golden Cheese saw the Fount of Knowledge approaching her, and thought “oh, no, Dark Cacao described this happening to him, too. The Fount definitely isn’t meant to be here and is definitely coming towards me. Oh, wait! I don’t need to let him circle me! I can fly away!” So that’s what she did.

Blueberry Milk didn’t expect that but immediately became suspicious because of that action. She DEFINITELY saw him approaching, and CHOSE to escape him. Plus, she had LIED. Potentially. Blueberry Milk has an open mind and says that “MAYBE there are WAYS you can spin it so ‘I got wings because I was raised by cheesebirds’ is true” but still thought it strange. Blueberry Milk also noticed a pattern, that both his and Master Flour’s new boyfriends knew each other, and figured maybe it was the same for the Herald’s new crush. Blueberry Milk went to PV and did a brief scan of him to discover that yes, he does know Golden Cheese.

The Fount of Knowledge is somewhat onto them, no longer totally oblivious that there’s anything strange going on, but is giving Pure Vanilla its full trust because it loves him deeply. Still, it questions whether it’s all worth it, knowing that for reasons unexplained, Pure Vanilla isn’t planning on staying.

Anyways. The Herald of Change figured that cheesebirds like cheese and sticks. So, he went to Golden Cheese with cheese and sticks. He gave them to her, then yelled “OH MY GOSH IM STUPID! WHY DIDNT I GET CHEESE STICKS?!” and ran away in embarrassment. Golden Cheese found the pitiful attempt at wooing her kind of cute. She put the cheese on the sticks to eat.

Back home with the Ancients, she is DEVASTATED that she is now part of the “strange relationship with Beast” club. She insists that she doesn’t DESERVE to be lumped in with Dark Cacao and Pure Vanilla, because she didn’t DO anything to garner his attention other than be her glorious self. All it took was a look and she was involved. Hollyberry is just like “on one hand I should avoid Eternal Sugar at all costs so that I can be the One Cookie who is doing things right. On the other hand, I’m REALLY curious”

So far we haven’t added a branch to the au where Hollysugar happens. So FOR NOW, Hollyberry is the one safe Ancient (other than WL until we learn more about SS). But I don’t doubt that at some point we will drag her into it. She’s certainly not AGAINST going to the Garden, despite her friends suggesting maybe she doesn’t.

Also might be worth mentioning that again this au is based on our RP and QUITE CONTRARY TO CANON Golden Cheese and Burning Spice have NEVER been on truly bad terms. They’ve spent most of their time just awkward around each other but are practically besties now. Never a strictly negative relationship. So Golden Cheese doesn’t have as many problems as she probably would if this were a regular AU based on canon.

I wouldn’t be against writing this AU as an actual fic that’s based more on canon rather than my sister and I’s silly little RP! My only problem would be my severe writers block haha! I have 2 WIPs for CRK fics rn and it’s not looking great!!!!!!!!

Wait maybe if I made it an actual fic I could have the ships go in release order so it still starts with Dark Cacao but we swap GC and PV’s plots starting… hahaha… will have to brainstorm this. If ppl want a real AU ig.

Pure Vanilla goes back in time and dates the Fount of Knowledge while trying not to reveal the fact that he is a time traveler who owns half his soul jam

#this two rp #if ppl want a real au of this ill try to come up with a name haha

1K notes · View notes

householdcryptid · 2 days ago

Note

Cockwarming anon again! Dude… that fic was so fucking good, i’m still reeling from it. Like, read it multiple times, squealing and kicking my feet 🙈❤️❤️❤️

So, I offer you this idea as a little thank you (also apologies in advance if this sucks, i’m not a writer, i’m just extremely thirsty and bobpilled rn);

So they’re not fucking, right? But they’re also technically not not fucking.

It’s taken Bob a little while to actually process what’s going on, and what exactly he’s feeling. It takes him a little while to figure out that, sure, he’s getting comfort, but there’s something else in there, something deeper, more primal.

He develops little fixations, and right now he’s fixated on her thighs. He doesn’t know how he’s never noticed them before, how soft and supple they look. Pure comfort. He finds himself wanting to touch them at all times, and she lets him without question, of course, but it only makes him worse.

He’ll sit closer to her so his legs can press against hers as much as possible, he’ll grab them under the table at meals. He’ll even ask to lay his head on them when they’re watching movies together. Slowly escalating, pawing, rubbing his face against them like a cat, sweating, whining, drooling, until his head is enclosed between them, face pressed against against her core. Panting, shaking, eyes closed in complete bliss like he’s finally found heaven.

Just wait until he figures out that he’s a munch.

babe i know you said you arent a writer but you SHOULD be holy shit 😵‍💫 also thank you! i'm so so so glad you liked the last one 🩷🩷🩷

i'm thinking about doing a part two to this just so i can write about him getting pussy drunk tbh he deserves that. # bob reynolds is a munch

cw: rob bein a nasty lil freak, uhhhh scent kink(? kind of?), nsfw but no real sex, reader knows robby is a weirdo and is Totally into it, talks of addiction (not a lot but mentioned), short because i got sick 💔👎, hope you enjoy 😌🩷

It starts off small. It always does with Bob. One tiny thing that snowballs into an addiction, and leaves him reeling. Once upon a time it was morphine, and then worse, but now? Now it’s you.

Small things— things no one but him would notice. The way you smile when he tells you about his day, no matter how boring it is. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, the way you glow.

More recently though, he can’t stop thinking about your legs. He’ll sit in the gym and watch you spar with Walker or Yelena, not understanding why the sight of their hands on you makes his skin crawl.

Instead of focusing on that feeling though, he zeroes in on your legs. The way they tense up, strike out to catch your opponent in the gut, the way they look when you have them wrapped around someones neck, pinning them to the ground.

They’re beautiful, even when you aren’t fighting. He finds himself drawn in, big warm palm sliding over the fabric of your sweats to knead at your thigh mid movie night. He isn’t trying to be a creep, isn’t making any attempt to get handsy, just wants to feel the plushness of it in his grip.

It devolves quickly. Gentle squeezes turn to fingerprint bruises that he feels genuinely awful for. You don’t ever mind, though. Your best friend is just tactile, he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes, and it’s not like you’re complaining, so why is he upset?

He stops squeezing as much, but it leaves something of a hole behind in his day to day. An ache he can’t explain, a longing that feels bone deep. Until you pull him to lay his head on your lap one day, and he’s found a new thing to be hooked on. Revels in the way the plush skin bows under his cheek, how you always end up petting through his hair. It ends up being a surefire way to put him to sleep, eventually.

It’s just too comforting. To have your attention on him so completely, your fingers in his soft curls and his cheek smushed against your soft thigh.

One day, the tower is empty, save you and Rob. He’s twitchy, strung tight like a rubber band ready to snap, skin buzzing with a power he still doesn’t understand and doesn’t think he deserves.

But you’re there, too, and that helps. Pulling him in with gentle hands, and he expects the usual. His head on your lap, your hand in his hair, but you shift. Your knees part, and you pat your tummy invitingly.

“I wanna lay down too, goofy.” You explain, laughing softly at his puzzled expression. He can’t stop staring long enough to come up with a verbal response. You’re wearing shorts, cotton boxers that pull taut at your thighs, dimpling the skin a bit, and his mouth waters.

His sigh is heavy and tremulous when he nuzzles his face against your stomach, lays flat on his front between your legs, arms wrapped up beneath your thighs, his hands splayed under your lower back.

“S’better.” He mumbles, lashes fluttering as he breathes in the scent of you. That’s where it starts, really. Your scent.

Warmth, clean sweat and a heady musk that makes him a little dizzy, he seeks it out. Noses down your tummy, wriggles southward until his face is buried between your thighs.

You giggle— honest to God giggle— and heat licks up his spine.

“Sorry-” He mutters, not making any attempt to actually pull away. “M’sorry. You smell so good,” He whispers, hands sliding to press your thighs closer around his head, nosing at your cunt through the soft material of your shorts. “S’so fuckin’ warm here.” He croaks out, just on the edge of a whine, nails biting into your supple skin.

“It’s okay, Robby,” You murmur, ever so indulgent, especially when he’s whining against your clothed core, already drooling into the fabric. “You can stay. You’re good, bubs.”

He almost sobs at the reassurance, brain going blissfully empty when you squeeze your thighs around his head gently.

He’s trembling just a little bit, huffing these shakey breaths against your core like he can’t quite catch his breath, pretty blue eyes unfocused and heavy lidded. Blissed out on just the smell and the feel of you, the way your thighs block out the sound of the room and the constant buzzing in his brain when they press to his ears.

He falls asleep like that, mouthing at your cunt through the shorts, letting out short little whimpers and huffy groans, your fingers in his hair and your thighs pressed to his ears.

You can only sigh, slip into a nice catnap as well, knowing full well the whole process will begin again when he wakes up.

#certified loverboy robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #thunderbolts*#lewis pullman #my angel baby #he's so gross *sighs dreamily*#he'd be a real eater too #'what d'you mean you need to shower :(' type shit #why cant he be mine dude im crashing out

175 notes · View notes

kumasakka · 2 days ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋’𝐒 ! ❞

　living a life of luxury, walking the path of a model. what’s wrong with a few posts on your instagram or blue lock boys stalking that one model on their social’s !

ft. various characters , all girl friendly of course <3 , crack , slightly ooc , have fun reading lol !

❤️ 997.3k. 💬 41.5k. ⌲ 152.7k.

mrs.worldwide I had so much fun with my date and don’t worry, I wasn’t drinking — just dying because I was laughing so hard ☺️

ryuassei.only imagine making THE queen laugh haha (plsnoticemeiloveyousomuch) XOXO ur biggest fan ❤️❤️

　⤷ itoshisae.official so that’s what you’re doing in your free time?

　　⤷ ryuassei.only WAIT BBG IM NOT CHEATING ON YOU I LOBE YOU WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

　　⤷ rinnie_poo sicko

　　⤷ ryuassei.only sybau the elders are talking

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe you’ra bringibg shame to the gnd 👎👎👎

　　⤷ ryuassei.only since when are dyslexic kids allowed on the platform 😂😂

bunnythebunny it was my pleasure making you giggle and have fun 🫶

　⤷ itoshisae.official get the fuck out of here.

　　⤷ cawcawssassin LMFAO TWO ADULTS BEEFING?

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 dude I thought u said u were not interested in [lastname] [name]??? fake nonchalant ahh

　　⤷ cawcawssassin syfm manwhore 🥀🥀

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio get his ass back into ur room or I’ll push him outta my bed

　　⤷ cawcawssassin what u waiting for? hurry up and kick his ass off ur bed

michahhel.kaiser why is that goofy ahh named bunny guy lying? lwk embarrassing cause i was there 🥱

　⤷ nessfetchthis you’re so right! he’s super embarrassing!

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi is this contagious?

　　⤷ nessfetchthis what?

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi the gayness

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio BYE NOT ISAGI GETTING FLOODED WITH VIDS OF HIM SCORING AND THEN HUGGING THE OTHERS?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi no wonder why ur parents didn’t want you, lying fuck

lovelyanri it was my pleasure to meet you! I still feel a little dizzy after getting blinded by your beauty, miss [lastname]!

　⤷ mrs.worldwide you’re such a sweetheart ❤️ please feel free to use my first name!

　　⤷ ryuassei.only NO FUCKING WAY? THIS WAS IN JAPAN??? WAIT COME BACK HONEY PIE AND GIVE PAPA A BIG FAT SMOOCH?

　　⤷ cawcawssassin bffr no one wants to touch ur freaky and nasty ahh

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi doesn’t this count as harassment? let’s report that guy…

　　⤷ ryuassei.only why tf are lowlifes suddenly talking to me? don’t y’all have better things to do?? like begging ppl for money 😂😂

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 count your days.

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 since when is bachira able to write properly?

　⤷ official.worldnews so it is true that you and mrs. [name] were sighted last night!

　　⤷ rinnie_poo can’t someone already get this stalker banned?

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi already did o7

　　⤷ cawcawssassin no need to tell me twice

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 the first account already get banned tho 🥀💔🪫

view all 41.5k comments.

❤️ 1.2mio. 💬 68.8k. ⌲ 251.6k.

mrs.worldwide should I buy the painting?

ryuassei.only mrs. worldwide? more like mrs. worldwife 😂😂 come home to daddy, the kids miss you 💞💞

　⤷ rinnie_poo this is considered as harassment by the way. get him banned.

　　⤷ ryuassei.only that’s why u r single n brotherless ✌️😂

　　⤷ rinnie_poo pride didn’t die out yet, i’m still better and taller than you

　　⤷ ryuassei.only horizontally? yes def 💔🥀

　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 hopp ogg thr plattform

　　⤷ ryuassei.only blud didn’t even got “the” right and thinks he owns the world 🥀

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi good idea bachira 🫶 jump and livestream it shitdou

　　⤷ ryuassei.only oh gosh i’m so scared!! the gays are here 😣😣

userrando2048 aside from out goddess, can we talk about the dude called ryuassei and how he makes the whole world his sworn enemy???

　⤷ rinnie_poo report him.

　　⤷ userrando2947 YES WHATEVER U SAY ZADDY 😝😝😝

　　⤷ userrando4681 ALREADY DID PAPI

　　⤷ cawcawssasin reminder that he’s a minor u gooners 🙏🙏

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi always yapping and not doing shit, useless fucks

　　⤷ userrando2048 what’s his prob? (OMFG FAMOUS PPL ANSWERING MEEEE???? PLZ NOTICE ME UGHWUDUD)

chokichoki1234 :x

　⤷ ryuassei.only oh god go get a fucking shower, you stink so hard 😭

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir get a job 🙏 oh wait nvm no one want ur ass /literally

　　⤷ ryuassei.only “wahh wahh daddy me want more money 🧌”

　⤷ theonlymikageheir nice to see you here :)

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi great. the gays again.

theonlymikageheir should I buy it for you?

　⤷ userrando9238 dafak our queen is already independent enough 💀💀

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir I can buy your whole house so respectfully shut up 😸

　　⤷ userrando9238 😶😶😶

　　⤷ cawcawssassin LMFAO GOT THEIR ASS CLOCKED AND SILENCED

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi the gays talking again

u20oliverawr may I ask you out? ❤️💐

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi gtfo

　⤷ rinnie_poo stfu

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio oh god him again

　⤷ ryuassei.only bruh y’all said I’m worse than him btw get him banned AGAIN

　　⤷ rinnie_poo you ARE worse.

　　⤷ ryuassei_poo cry about it 🥶🥶

　⤷ rizzninja0010 🔑 🙏🙏

　⤷ cawcawssassin mf is 19, acts like 6, looks like a 50 y/o cheating father w/ gorgeous wife and literally thinks he can bag another baddie

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 you ATE 😝😝

　　⤷ userrando7728 WHAT COME AFTER 7

　⤷ theredpanther u(nder)-20 but then there’s oliver fucking aiku

view all 68.8k comments.

❤️ 1.1mio. 💬 70.1k. ⌲ 223.9k.

mrs.worldwide does someone have an recommendation? 😙😙

ryuassei.only of course, the book’s called shidou ryusei, 18 exclusive pages + few pictures, available in japan tokyo

　⤷ mrs.worldwide might take you up for the offer! 🤭

　　⤷ ryuassei.only NO FUCKING WAY.

　　⤷ ryuassei.only NO FCKINF WAY SHE ANWERED OMFGSHHSJDJJER OMG SHEBANSWREED

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi bro wtf fanboy is SHOWING

　　⤷ rinnie_poo no fucking way.

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir is this real?

ultrasadist_hio everyone BUT shidou

　⤷ ryuassei.only WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO ISN’T ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 yoh dontt deserve to bee happy duhh??

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi I second this

　　⤷ cawcawssassin me three

　　⤷ sharkdududu me four four

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 me five tf

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir six

　　⤷ nikoniko_nii 7

　　⤷ bunnythebunny 8

　　⤷ ryuassei.only MF I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU BACK OFF

　　⤷ ichigostwin 9

　　⤷ ryuassei.only only because I beat ur mf ass ugh haters 🙄🙄

　　⤷ chokichoki1234 ^

ryuassei.only y’all are JEALOUS because I got THE [lastname] [name] to notice ME

　⤷ userrando1038 no one mad or jealous, everyone just hates you

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi just realise that you’re the fucking problem 💔

nikoniko_nii I can give you manga recs

　⤷ ryuassei.only lad hopes for the queen to answer 😂😂

　　⤷ rinnie_poo you’re just as desperate.

　　⤷ ryuassei.only get out you emo bitch

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi +18 recs?

　⤷ mrs.worldwide dm’s are open 🫶

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 BYEEEE SHITDOU GETTINF HUEMBLES

　　⤷ nessfetchthis look twice at what you wrote

michahhel.kaiser you look beautiful today

　⤷ michahhel.kaiser fuck no wait you’ll always be beautiful

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL EVERY DAY.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi you’re so embarrassing, it hurts my eyes.

　　 ⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 I second thiz

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi u almost had it right bachira…

view all 70.1k comments.

#❨🎐❩ 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 :: shitpost.#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #various x reader #socialau #smau #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #michael kaiser x reader #bunny iglesias x reader #itoshi rin x reader #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #shidou ryusei #michael kaiser #bunny iglesias

179 notes · View notes

menofcolorswitchbodiesagain · 2 days ago

Text

Vacation Swap by @menofcolorswitchbodiesagain

Waking up in those bodies felt like a trip down the hairy rabbit hole. They were huge, hairy, and definitely not what they were used to. It was like being in someone else's skin, quite literally.

The two twinks found themselves stuck in the bodies of 40-year-old bears after a wild decision to try out a shady body swap service. They thought it would be a thrill, a temporary escape from their usual selves. But now, as they looked at their massive arms and burly frames, they couldn't help but wonder if they had made a huge mistake.

"Whoa," one of them said, his words punctuated by the richness of his low bear voice. "Listen to us! We sound like we belong in a lumberjack commercial or something."

Running their hands over the thick fur that coated their chests and arms, they exchanged bewildered glances. They were used to smooth skin, not this dense forest of hair. It was like they had become walking, talking teddy bears overnight.

One of them ran a hand through the thick chest hair, marveling at its density.

"Dude, check this out," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "I've never seen so much hair in my life. I feel like Bigfoot."

His friend chuckled. "Tell me about it. I could probably hide a sandwich in here and forget about it."

They weren't sure what happened to their original bodies. Did those guys decide to keep them, or were they freaking out somewhere, stuck in the twinks' bodies? The thought was enough to give them a shiver.

His friend grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, we could give those guys a run for their money. I've never felt so manly in my life."

Vacation Swap by @mentobein2

Life as 40-year-old bears was going to be one wild ride, that was for sure. They were out of their depth, swimming in uncharted waters. But hey, at least they were in it together. And who knew? Maybe they'd grow to love their new identities, hairy chests and all. Only time would tell.

There is an appeal in jumping into a new body on a vacation. It’s truly liberating to see a life through the eyes of another. My husband and I decided to schedule a body swap through a secretive vacation agency. We only got the appointment with a referral from a wealthy friend. Apparently these kinds of body swaps are highly illegal, but quite sought after in the right community.

My husband and I just showed up for our appointment where we woke up in these two twinks. I’ve never been so thin and white. it’s gonna be fun being in these bodies for a little bit.

Maybe we won’t show up for the swap back. Maybe this is us now. Maybe these two guys now have to live life as 40-year-old bears. I think so.

#menofcolorswitchbodiesagain #male body swap #White x White #Revived story

148 notes · View notes

lucidrmss · 3 days ago

Text

extra credit. II 7.3k armin arlert x reader

cw: 18+ explicit content minors dni, nerdmin x baddie reader, reader insert but no use of y/n, unprotected sex, female pronouns/afab reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, nipple piercing, possessive armin, bit of dirty talk, bit of fluff. university/college au.

summary: No one saw it coming. Not your roommate. Not your on-and-off ex situationship. Not even the judgmental girl with a color-coded planner who’s clearly in love with him.

But somehow, the cardigan-wearing, note-taking, blushy boy wonder of your Comparative Politics class caught your attention. And that’s saying something, because you’re not exactly known for quiet crushes or gentle flirting — being a tattooed, sharp-tongued, braless baddie with a GPA just as high as your standards.

After a sketchy dude corners you at a party, Armin Arlert — the last person you expected — swoops in like a flannel-clad knight in awkward armor. That moment sparks a chaotic, and unexpectedly tender journey involving fake study sessions, thigh tattoos, jealous glances, and one painfully adorable nerd who may or may not be packing more than just a well-organized Google Drive.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. You’re not letting this one go.

notes: i'm here with part 2, longer and dirtier! a had to edit it all again that's why it took forever. hope u like it <3

<part I

You were totally going to be chill today.

The library dates have grown to you, you actually like to study, just know how to balance it with nights out. But this is comfortable, sharing opinions and having someone to actually listen to it, not with a surprised face like it's uncommon to wear short skirts and be able to develop intellectual opinions, but sharing deep conversations and with Armin, it's easy.

In fact, you could sit there and talk about how you custom-made a piece of clothing you thrifted last week and he'd look at you with his big, bright eyes as if you were describing how you accidentally discovered the cure for cancer.

So the study dates? is just a excuse to sit close and have him speak in that low voice to you. With your coffee, wearing your least intimidating crop top, you told yourself: Don’t flirt. don’t provoke. just study.

As you scan the library, you notice that everything is quiet, being it a friday afternoon. Or it was quiet, ‘cause you accidentally made eye contact with a damn Jean Kirstein who had the audacity to wink at you in front of Armin.

Look away, ignore it. Maybe he'll get the hit and don't be a menace for once in his lifetime. Is that asking for too much? the footsteps approaching your table 10 seconds later answered yes.

“Damn, babe. If I'd known study sessions with nerds made you this hot, I’d’ve volunteered months ago,” he says, teeth flashing as he leans on your library table like he owns it.

You glance up from your notes and deadpan, “if you knew how to read, Jean, maybe you’d be here for the actual material.”

Jean laughs — loud and easy, not offended in the slightest. “Always such a flirt. But hey, if the blondie here ever needs a break, I got room for a real tutor.”

You’re already mid-eye roll when you hear it.

“I think she’s fine with the one she has.”

Oh?

You blink, slowly.

Jean raises his brows, mock-innocent. “Whoa. Okay, Professor Armin. Relax.”

Armin doesn’t even look up. “Maybe don’t hit on people while they’re trying to learn.”

You wait for Armin to blush and backpedal like he always does. He doesn’t.

Instead, he adjusts his glasses, underlines something in your shared textbook, and leans a little closer to you. You feel his shoulder touch yours — light, intentional.

Your stomach flips.

Jean watches the interaction, then snorts. “Well, shit. Didn’t realize this was exclusive.”

Armin looks him dead in the eye.

“It is.”

Excuse you? You nearly knock your iced coffee over.

Jean lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. Nerd got game. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

When he walks off, you just stare at Armin.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “Just tired of guys thinking they can talk to you like that.” he sounds annoyed, eyes still focused on the open textbook but he looks distracted, jaw clenched, a vein popping out of his throat.

A quiet nerdy man who wears glasses and has a possessive agenda? You couldn't make that shit up, no even in your wildest dreams.

You’re quiet for a second. “You jealous, baby?”

Armin finally looks at you. Really look at you.

And for the first time since that almost-kiss, you see it again — the heat behind his eyes. The one that doesn’t match the shy smiles and physics flashcards. The one that makes you ache.

“I don’t like sharing” he murmurs.

Jesus Christ.

That got you shivering, shyly looking away. He just clears his throat and continues to read to you, like that moment didn't happen. Only his thigh touching yours under the table.

The thing about college parties is that they’re basically controlled chaos. Like, sure, someone brought Cards Against Humanity and another guy made jungle juice in a mop bucket — but it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

Especially when Armin shows up wearing that soft gray sweater that hugs his shoulders just right, and you remember why you bothered to come out in the first place.

You’re wearing all black again. Cropped halter. Knee-high platform boots. A leather jacket you definitely don’t need. He spots you across the room, fiddling with the rim of a red Solo cup, and you swear his whole face lights up. Soft-ass nerd, you think — fondly, stupidly, like some lovesick schoolgirl. The contrast between you two is kinda hot tho.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, out of breath from squeezing through the crowd. “You look…”

He trails off.

You arch an eyebrow. “I look?”

His mouth opens. Closes.

You step closer and smile with dangerous softness. “Use your words, baby.”

Armin turns redder than the Solo cup.

You live for this.

But before he can recover, Connie swoops in from nowhere and yells, “TRUTH OR DARE. IN MY ROOM. CIRCLE. NOW.”

Because apparently y'all twelve again.

The room's smelling faintly like weed, and cheap vodka, hot with so many people in the same place. You spot Mikasa laying on Coonie’s bed and Eren sitting on the desk chair, back to the rest of the room, but you can see him packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper. You sit next to Armin, obviously. His knee keeps brushing yours like he’s trying to pretend it’s an accident, even though it keeps happening every five seconds.

Across from you is Sasha (already tipsy), Connie (born tipsy), Jean (smirking, obviously), some random people you don't care enough to remember their name and— yep — Mina.

You don’t know if she’s glaring at you or having a stroke. Either way, you smile sweetly and lean a little more into Armin’s space.

“Alright, nerds,” Connie claps, vodka bottle in hand. “Never have I ever… slept with someone and forgot their name after.”

You hold up your cup and drink without blinking.

Armin chokes.

Everyone groans or giggles. Mina looks directly at your mouth like it offended her personally.

“Never have I ever… had a crush on someone in this room,” Sasha smirks.

Cue chaos.

Everyone makes eye contact with everyone. You sip. Jean chugs. Mikasa doesn’t flinch. Armin… lifts his cup. Sips.

You want to tease him — but the bottle spins.

Its Mina’s turn.

“Never have I ever made out with someone just to get a reaction out of someone else.” You sip again. So does Jean. but that's an old story, not even worth mentioning. You see the flicker in Armin’s jaw.

Connie, in a brilliant stroke of timing, takes things further off the rails.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a public place.”

You cackle.

Armin clears his throat.

And drinks.

What.

The room erupts.

“No. Absolutely not. Ain't no way Armin Arlert it's little freak, explain yourself,” Mikasa demands, nearly toppling over.

Armin just pushes his glasses up calmly. “Library study room. Sophomore year. After finals.”

You drop your jaw.

Mina visibly deflates .

“Was it with that girl with the septum and purple braids?” Connie asks.

“Nope,” Armin says.

“Who then?” Jean insists.

Armin shrugs. “You don’t know her.”

You… suddenly want to know everything about this alternate-universe Armin with secret kinks and perfect timing.

It spirals quickly after that.

Sasha drinks for “Never have I ever stolen a traffic cone.”

Connie drinks for “Never have I ever kissed a professor.”

Jean drinks for “Never have I ever hooked up with two people in the same friend group.”

Armin’s barely tipsy, his face is flushed in a beautiful way that compliments so well with his blonde hair it's actually making you kinda of feral. You’re dangerously close to asking if he’s faking this I've never felt the touch of a woman energy or if the universe just wanted to create a sex god with a resting shy face.

You're having fun, laughing at Mikasa and Connie bickering, watching as Eren joins the circle while passing a blunt over to Jean, feeling Armin's hand caressing your thigh, while you rest on his shoulders a little. Yet nothing can distract you from this feeling. Of being watched, getting your every move scrutinized. Everytime you meet her eyes, she raises her eyebrow. It's getting tiring.

Jealousy it's a ugly face, even on pretty girls like Mina Carolina.

Your patience snaps. your turn now.

While staring directly at her, you go for blood.

“Never have I ever lied about wanting to just study when what I really wanted was to jump someone’s bones.”

Connie screams, you hear Armin choking beside you.

You drink, watching her blush while also taking a sip.

The blonde man beside you hesitates for a second before also taking a big gulp. The world seems to stop when your eyes meet. Your lips parted as his ears got more red and his eyes glitter. Fucking glitter like when sunshine touches the ocean. Deep and blue and fucking breathtaking beautiful.

This motherfucker got you wanted to write poetry and draw hearts with your names.

It's time to admit you got it bad.

The moment ends with everyone groaning when Connie suddenly lurches forward.

“Oh— no, no, no—” Mikasa scrambles for a trash can, but it’s too late.

The carpet claims another victim. The game dies an honorable death.

Someone suggests a group selfie to immortalize the trauma. You all huddle together, flushed and sweaty.

Jean’s got devil horns on. Sasha’s holding a baguette she stole from the kitchen. Connie is barely conscious .

You feel Armin slide behind you — then his arm loops around your shoulders.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Your breath catches.

He’s smiling at the camera like it’s nothing. But his hand is resting right below your collarbone. His thumb brushing the skin under your necklace.

The photo flashes. Captures it all.

Later, when you check it on Sasha’s phone, you zoom in.

His smile is innocent.

Your smirk? Dangerous.

But it’s his hand that stays with you.

Because it’s not just possessive.

It’s not casual.

It’s a promise.

You don’t remember who suggested karaoke at 3:37 a.m., but they’re currently on their third dramatic rendition of “Toxic,” and Eren is screaming the harmony like his life depends on it.

The party has thinned. The carpet’s been cleaned (kinda). The last cup of decent alcohol is gone.

You’re sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water like it’s vodka. Armin’s next to you, arms around you — not a lot, but enough to make your heart overreact.

He looks like he shouldn’t fit here.

Too clean. Too sane. Too good.

But he does.

And then he looks at you and smiles, like you’ve just said something funny even though your last sentence was “I think Eren’s possessed.”

You grin.

—

“I still think Sasha won that game,” you say as you stumble slightly, the cold air slapping you sober.

“How?” Armin scoffs, holding his sweater tighter around his chest. “She didn't even drink for ‘never have I ever lied about being a virgin,’ which—statistically? Impossible.”

You laugh, shoving his arm. “She’s a legend. Respect her lore.”

You’re both walking slowly. The street is empty, dead-quiet except for the buzz of street lamps and the sound of your boots scuffing.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say when you two slow down in front of your dorm’s building, hands tucked in your jacket pockets.

“I wasn’t gonna let you walk back alone. You’re, like… not safe.”

You smirk. “You’re calling me unsafe?”

He looks at you with a sideways grin. “Yeah. But in a gremlin energy kind of way.”

“Wow. Armin Arlert. Student of the year. Secret library slut. Thinks I’m a gremlin.”

He laughs softly.

And then he looks at you like he’s thinking way too hard.

“What?” you nudge.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says.

“Like what?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You know. Loose. Silly. Kinda chaotic. Like… like a girl who doesn’t have a comeback every ten seconds or a death glare locked and loaded.”

You squint at him. “I am silly.”

“You’re terrifying ,” he deadpans. “In, like, a hot way. But terrifying.”

Your lips twitch.

“Okay, but real question,” you say, pausing by your dorm entrance. He stops one step down the stairs. “If I’m so scary in a hot way, how come you haven’t made a move yet?”

Armin blinks. “What?”

You step closer. The wind picks up behind you, lifting your hair over “You like me. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even Connie knows it, and Connie once failed a psych class he wasn’t even enrolled in.”

He licks his lips, looking absolutely flustered.

“So?” you press. “What gives? Why haven’t you just… caved in?”

He swallows. Hard.

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who wants you because everyone else does,” he says, voice low. “You get stared at. Talked about. People make up shit just to feel close to you. And I—” he moves forward “—wanted to be different.”

Your throat goes dry.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to kiss you,” he adds quickly. “I thought about it. A lot. More than I should.”

Your gaze drops to his mouth.

Then climbs back up.

“I want to do this right,” he says, softer. “Real dates. Not fake study sessions. Not hallway flirting or party games. Just… you and me. Trying to see what this could actually be.”

It's this what being with a Real Man looks like? you finally made it?

You don’t say anything, just grab his jacket, tug him up, and kiss him.

It’s short. Hot. Clumsy.

You laugh into his mouth when his glasses bump your forehead. He huffs a breathy laugh, presses one hand to your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to hold you tighter.

He is.

He will.

But tonight?

Tonight you pull away, lips tingling, breath shared.

“Okay, nerd,” you whisper. “You want a real date?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah.”

You lean in again, lips grazing his jaw. “Then ask me out before I ask you to stay the night.”

Armin blinks.

“... Will you go out with me?”

You grin.

“Depends. Does the date come with more kissing?”

He leans in close, the real him surfacing through the shy boy mask.

“All of it.”

You almost cancel.

You’re not the canceling type — more like the don’t catch feelings and flee when you do type — but still. For a hot second, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re really about to let Armin Arlert take you on a date.

Then you remember how he kissed you, how his hand curled around your waist like he meant it, how he whispered "all of it" with a look that made your knees consider retiring.

And you put on your damn jacket. Your phone pings with a text a second later.

>Armin: I'm here

He’s waiting outside your dorm, standing next to a bright blue car that absolutely does not belong to him.

“Connie’s,” he explains when you raise an eyebrow. “He owed me a favor. I helped him write a breakup email.”

You blink. “That’s… darkly romantic.”

“It had bullet points,” Armin says proudly.

He opens your door. Let you in first. Doesn’t try to play it cool — he’s nervous, you can feel it. The way he drums his fingers on the wheel, the way he sneaks glances at you at every red light.

You don’t speak much on the drive.

But you don’t need to.

Because when you get there — a retro arcade with neon lights, synth music playing inside, and a glowing sign that reads "Joystick Palace" — you laugh so hard you snort.

“An arcade?” you grin as you step out. “Really?”

“You said you like chaos,” he shrugs, locking the car. “And I like a fighting chance to beat you at something.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Inside, it’s loud and flashy.

You pass rows of claw machines, air hockey tables, and ancient DDR setups.

Armin pays for a loaded token card like a gentleman. You immediately waste ten tokens trying to win a vibrating duck keychain.

Armin wins it in one try. You hate him.

Next you two reach the Skee-Ball Showdown table.

“You have terrible form,” he says with a little laugh.

You roll your eyes. “Says the man in a corduroy jacket.”

“It’s fashion.”

“It’s a lie.”

He smirks, steps behind you, and gently adjusts your arms, breathing right beside your ear. “You gotta flick. Like this.”

You try again, and miss miserably. Armin takes a ball, flicks it with clinical precision, and lands a perfect 100.

You stare at him, deadpan. “Are you secretly a Skee-Ball assassin?”

“I had no friends in middle school,” he says simply.

You wheeze.

You finally beat him in a Zombie Apocalypse game. It's basically just gun shooting a bunch of very fast zombies. You know you did actually beat him ‘cause he's doing the face he usually does on the study sessions when he's very concentrated in something. Jaw locked, eyebrows furrowed, a little pout on his pink lips. It's so fucking hot.

When your screen says YOU WIN in all caps and colors and you scream, while flashing him your middle fingers. “ You're a fucking loser Arlert”

He just laughs and try to stop you screaming with a hand on your mouth “People are side eyeing you so hard right now” You could care less about other people when you are having fun with him

You’re both laughing too hard to function when you pile into a tiny photobooth that smells like plastic and popcorn.

“Wait—my hair—!”

“Too late—!”

The flash goes off just as Armin accidentally elbows you in the boob and you scream-laugh into his shoulder.

When the strip prints, you’re both wheezing.

1st pic: You blinking. Him wide-eyed.

2nd pic: You throwing up a peace sign. Him doing jazz hands.

3rd pic: You squished together, cheeks touching, laughing with your whole chest.

4th pic: Him looking at you. You looking back.

And something quiet in the middle of all the chaos.

You don’t say anything, just tuck the photo strip into your jacket with a shy smile and pretend your heart isn’t imploding.

——

The arcade has a crusty pizza lounge in the back. Sticky booths. Cheap soda. Grease stains that deserve forensic analysis. And yet, it’s perfect.

You sit across from him, legs touching under the table.

“So,” you say between bites. “Any reason you picked this place?”

He shrugs. “You’re loud. Competitive. Terrifying.”

“I will throw pepperoni at you.”

He grins. “And I wanted to see what you looked like when you’re having fun without trying to impress anyone.”

You pause, chewing slowly. “That's... dangerous, Armin.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You say stuff like that and I forget I’m supposed to be the one in control.”

He flushes pink, but doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want control,” he says. “I just want to know the real you. The girl who wins at claw machines. The girl who laughs like she doesn’t care. The girl who stole my hoodie three days ago and never gave it back.”

You grin.

“And what if I’m in love with you?” You weren’t supposed to say it out loud. But the words fall out before you can stop them, soft and simple and devastatingly true:

“I think I’m in love with you, Armin.”

You don’t look away, don’t take it back.

Armin stares for a second, like you just gave him a cheat code to life. Then he reaches across the table, hand covering yours, thumb tracing your knuckles. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you told a TA to suck your ass in lecture.”

You cackle loudly, the kid at the next table looks mildly traumatized.

But it’s fine, because Armin is still blushing and smiling and not even trying to hide it.

And you?

You’ve never felt more real.

——

The arcade’s closing now. The glowing neon signs flicker out one by one, and the last dregs of teenagers shuffle toward their rides, greasy paper cups and leftover tokens in their wake.

You and Armin walk back to the car, the buzz of the evening still crackling in your chest.

The laughter's quieter now. Everything is, like the night itself is holding its breath.

Armin unlocks the car, holds the passenger side door open for you — and maybe it's the way he looks at you in that hoodie, or the fact that his fingers keep brushing your waist, or the fact that he saw all of you tonight and didn't even flinch.

But whatever the reason—

You don’t get in the car. You don’t even think, just grab him by the front of that stupid corduroy jacket and kiss him like your life depends on it.

And he melts.

“Wait—” he says, breath hitching, “what—?”

“I’m done waiting,” you mutter. Then, with exactly zero shame, you shove him back into the driver’s seat and climb into his lap.

Straddle him. Close the door. Like a prize.

Like a goddamn throne.

“W-wow —holy sh—” His hands hesitate — just for a second — before gripping your hips tight, thumbs digging into the curve of your ass like he’s been dying to. His glasses fog. His mouth opens against yours, wet and hot and messy, and your bodies crash together like magnets misbehaving.

“Still think I’m scary?” you whisper, teeth and lips grazing his jaw, kissing down his delicious throat, nails scraping his undercut.

“Yes,” he gasps.

“Still like me?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

You rock your hips once — just once — and the breathy moan he lets out breaks you.

He’s flushed from collar to ears, fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you can feel him getting hard and you head is spinning from how deep he's kissing you, like he’s catching up for every second he didn’t.

Tongue deep. Hands firm. Lips bruising.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters into your mouth.

You grin against his lips, breath ragged, hands in his hair, tugging until he groans. just as you’re about to grind again — as the windows fog and your body trembles with too much clothes and not enough skin — A loud, sharp knock on the window.

You freeze. Armin freezes.

A woman’s voice — annoyed and nasally — slices the moment in two:

“There are children in this parking lot.”

You turn your head. A mom. A literal mom, holding a juice box and glaring like you just kicked a puppy.

You blink. Smile and wave politely.

Armin chokes on his soul. “I—I am so sorry—!”

You slide off his lap, giggling uncontrollably while he smacks his forehead against the steering wheel and mutters something about “crawling into the sun and staying there.”

The drive back to your dorm is a blur of laughter and blushing and your hand resting on his thigh like nothing happened.

He walks you to the door like a goddamn gentleman.

Hair’s a mess, lips are swollen. His glasses are still a little crooked. His hands keep twitching like he wants to grab you again.

And you? You’re a little more in love. It’s terrifying, really and somehow, it feels like freedom.

You lean against the doorframe. “Thanks for the date, nerd.”

“Thanks for hijacking it and almost getting us banned from an arcade.”

“Tell me you didn’t love it.”

“I loved it.”

You smile. He steps forward, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. Slow and soft.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, even in the poor light, his eyes shine.

“Not a chance,” you whisper. He grins, backing away.

You watch him walk off, hoodie riding up a little, hair practically bouncing, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s hiding a secret.

You wait until he’s gone.

Then you take out the photobooth strip.

And you post it to your story. No caption, just hearts and his @.

And for once, you don’t care who sees.

You can feel the hallway buzz before you even turn the corner. Phones clutched too tight. Whispered “oh my god that’s her”s. A heady mix of staring and pretending not to stare.

Which… okay. You did post that photo strip. You did let Armin hold your waist like a man who paid rent to be there. And yeah, your caption was literally just a heart, but that’s basically a marriage license in social media language.

So, you knew. But he didn’t.

You round the corner and spot him before he spots you. He’s standing by at locker, trying to act normal, wearing that dusty green hoodie you like and a pair of black jeans that absolutely weren’t tight until you noticed they were. His blonde hair, messy and softly curly at the end, are falling over his forehead. His ears are red.

He looks like someone who accidentally became an overnight meme. You sneak up behind him and poke his side.

He jumps. “—Oh my god, warn me!”

“Sorry,” you smirk. “You looked too approachable. I had to ruin it.”

He groans softly, leaning back against the metal locker. “I don’t know how you walk around like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… everyone’s looking at you.”

“They always look.”

“Yeah, but now they’re looking at me too. I got high-fived by like three dudes I’ve never even met. One of them said that I'm a ‘lucky bastard’, another one asked what shampoo you use. I dropped my bag.”

You try not to laugh, but his expression is so pained, so violated, that it slips out anyway.

“I feel like I accidentally joined a frat,” he mumbles.

Then, quieter:

“And I don’t like the way they talk about you.”

Your know what he means and don't like it too, but after having to deal with it alone, you've learned to ignore it.

He doesn’t look at you — just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage away the emotions. “Like you’re a trophy they lost to me. Like you’re something they didn’t win.”

Your voice softens. “And that bothers you?”

He finally looks up. “It bothers me that they talk about you like that. And yeah, I guess I’m jealous. But mostly? I just feel like they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re not a prize. You’re a person. Who happens to like me for some reason.”

You tilt your head. “I like you for so many reasons.”

“You’re gonna make me faint in the hallway.”

“Promise?” He laughs — real and shy and warm — and that’s all it takes. You link your arm through his and tug him toward the cafeteria.

The moment you step into the lunch area, the chaos hits.

Mikasa waves you over. Connie yells “Power couple alert!” like a town crier. Eren whistles loudly like a proud Dad who's watching his son score a goal playing soccer. Jean does finger guns. Sasha is halfway through a croissant and still manages to shout “FUCK SOFT LAUCHING, THAT'S QUEEN BEHAVIOR RIGHT HERE LADYS AND GENTLEMEN.”

You sit, Armin hesitates. Then squeezes in beside you like he’s bracing for impact. And for the first few minutes, it’s a tornado of teasing and food stealing and Sasha throwing paper napkins at Connie’s head. But eventually, everything softens.

Mikasa slides a tray in front of Armin without asking. “You didn’t eat yet. I know.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Miki.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That your other girlfriend?”

Mikasa deadpans. “Only if he passes the final this time.”

“I—I’m studying!”

You lean into him. “I’ll quiz you later.”

Jean snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You throw a grape at his face. But Armin’s laughing again, shoulders easing down inch by inch, as the table noise wraps around him like a safety blanket. For all their chaos, this group is home. And when his hand brushes yours under the table, you squeeze it. Soft. Sure. Grounded.

Because yeah, people are talking. People are always going to talk.

But at the end of the day?

It’s just you and him, and that’s more than enough.

——

You’re slipping your headphones in, fingers already fumbling for your lighter and gum at the bottom of your bag, when you hear someone say your name.

You look up.

It’s Mina. Alone this time, no textbooks hugging her chest like a shield, no fake smile plastered on. Just her — big cardigan, soft eyes, and that slightly awkward energy that used to make you roll your eyes. But today, it doesn’t hit the same.

You tug one earbud out. “Hey.”

There’s a pause. A big one. The kind that stretches out like taffy and begs to be cut clean.

“I just…” Mina begins, eyes flicking somewhere past your shoulder. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I ever made you feel weird. Or like I was… trying to compete. That wasn’t my intention.”

You shrug. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I kinda did,” she says. “You were never cruel. And I might’ve been quietly hoping you’d disappear for, like, a week or two.”

You snort. “Just a week?”

Mina smiles, a little. “Okay. Maybe a month.” You both laugh, short but real.

Then you say, “He likes you, y’know. As a friend. A lot.”

“I know,” she nods. “And you’re… something else entirely. Which I guess is what he needs now.”

You hum. “I didn’t plan any of it.”

“I know that too.”

Another pause. More gentle this time.

“You look happy, though,” she says. “He does too.”

You nod. “I am. And he is.”

“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”

You both glance toward the buildings across the quad, like you’re searching for the next thing to say — but there isn’t one.

Just a nod.

A quiet, simple goodbye.

You turn and walk your separate ways.

Not friends. Not enemies.

Just two girls who grew up a little.

———

Armin’s dorm smells like cotton detergent and anxiety.

You’re barely past the threshold when your eyes land on his desk: two mugs, one with a tea bag tag still hanging off, and a notebook open to the densest study notes you’ve ever seen. There’s highlighter color-coding like he’s about to present a thesis, not cram for a final.

And then there’s Armin — already flustered, running a hand through that fluffy blond hair, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and joggers like the unintentional thirst trap he is.

“So… you made it,” he says, nervous smile blooming.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you toss back casually, setting your bag down and peeling off your hoodie to reveal your usual black tank top. His gaze drops instantly to the curve of your collarbone. Then lower.

You pretend not to notice.

He clears his throat. “Uh, tea or water?”

“Tea makes me feel like a Victorian child with tuberculosis. Got soda?”

“…Water it is.”

You snicker and flop onto his bed without permission, legs crossed, and fumble for your notes — not that you’re going to use them.

“I ran into Mina on the way here,” you mention offhandedly.

Armin pauses mid-pour. “Oh.”

You nod. “She was cool. Said some nice things, actually.”

His eyes meet yours cautiously. “You’re not… mad at her or anything, right?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “She’s sweet. Just had a crush and a little passive-aggressive attitude. It happens.”

He nods slowly, sets the water down on his desk. “You’re handling this really maturely.”

“Trying to impress someone,” you shrug, giving him a sly smile. That earns you a blush. Bright and adorable.

You both try to study for maybe twenty whole minutes. He sits at the desk; you sit cross-legged on the bed, actually reading the damn thing, until you catch him looking at your thigh tattoo for the fourth time.

It’s a Medusa, coiled and dark, peeking out from the hem of your shorts like it’s daring him to say something.

You stretch slowly, just to watch his eyes darken.

“Problem, professor?” you ask, voice low and teasing.

“I—no. I just… I didn’t realize it was that detailed.”

You smirk. “You could see it up close, y’know. If you asked nicely.”

He looks like he might short-circuit on the spot.

So you rise, slow and deliberate, walking over to his desk, taking the pencil out of his hand and placing it down. Then — as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — you straddle his lap, knees on either side, hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t focus,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “Me either.”

And then you kiss him.

Hard and messy.

There’s nothing slow about it — not this time. This isn’t the photobooth or the moment outside your dorm. This is heat and need and weeks of pent-up tension burning through both of you.

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him already half-hard under you. You grind down, and his head falls back with a low, helpless noise that shoots straight through you.

Your lips leave him only to trail down his jaw, to the base of his neck, biting gently just to hear him gasp. He says your name like it’s a prayer. A warning. A plea. then he touches the strap of your tank top.

“Can I—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Take it off.”

He does, slow like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His hands tremble a little, but his eyes never leave yours. Then they drop — to your pierced chest — and he exhales like he’s been sucker-punched.

“Holy shit.”

You grin. “You like it?”

He answers by taking one nipple into his mouth, gently at first, then with more confidence as your fingers tangle in his hair. His tongue flicks over the piercing leaving a gentle bite, and you whimper.

Teasing until you can’t take it anymore — his shirt needs to go. You tug it off him and toss it somewhere behind, letting your nails drag down his pale chest. You just knew he would be the sleep builder type, abs muscles marked by soft lines, his peck with cute pink nipples, skin shivering.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, and your heart stutters.

You grind again, harder, and this time his hands grip your ass, guiding you. The friction is blinding. You’re soaked through your panties, and judging by how hard he is now, he’s not far behind.

“Fuck,” you whisper, breathless. “I want to taste you.” He stares, stunned, as you slide down to your knees in front of the desk chair, eyes locked on his.

“You don’t have to—”

You shut him up by dragging your tongue along his length through the fabric of his joggers, and he just chokes.

By the time you free him from his boxers, he’s flushed, panting, already leaking at the tip. You lick a slow circle around it before sinking down, taking him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“God—” His hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding. His hips twitch as you hollow your cheeks, letting your tongue swirl. He looks like he’s trying not to scream, red from chest to cheeks, eyes a little dazed, shaking a little by the time you pull off, still hard and dripping, and you crawl back up, tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You good?” he asks, breathless.

You grin, guiding his hand between your legs, letting him feel how wet you are, and then bring to your mouth and suck his fingers clean.

His jaw drops. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No, baby,” you whisper. “I’m going to ride you.”

You sink down onto him slowly, both of you moaning, your thighs trembling from the stretch and the sheer fucking emotion of it all. He fills you perfectly. Like you were made for him.

You move slowly at first, circling your hips, watching him fall apart beneath you.

“—fuck, you feel— -uhgg” Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pick up the pace. His hands are on your waist, your thighs, your ass — anywhere he can touch, he eyes your tits as they bounce slightly like he's hypnotized, groaning like he can't handle it and goes back to sucking on it again.

You ride him until you're shaking, grinding your hips and biting your lips. The knot inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

But Armin’s not done.

He carries you to bed, laying you like you're made of glass, take off his glasses, and kisses you like he’s starved. You're a moaning mess, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgams. He kisses down your throat, the vale between your tits, your stomach and when his head is between your legs he looks up at you, big blue eyes you know and love, but with a little wild in it, “Pussy so fucking pretty, bet she can cream for me again.” He gives you a long lick, then a cute little kiss.

“Minnn” you whimper, hands holding the sheets tightly.

“Taste so good, smells amazing, looks so fucking pretty,” his words make you dizzy, its hard to process that sweet Armin who still blushes when you hold his hand, is the same man that its climbing up to rest his forehead against yours and saying with a smirk: “You're a perfect little thing, ain't you? And that's all for me? Huh?”

You nod whimpering his name as he slides back in, thrusting slow and deep, holding your face, eyes locked, sucking your lips lazily. Until you bite his lips back, gripping him inside you. That's when something in his eyes darkens.

Suddenly, he's so close you wouldn't know where one of you starts and the other ends. Bodys sweating, chest to chest, one arm around your lower back as the other hold you head, finger griping your hair, legs locking on his waist as he fucks you fast and hard, sometimes mumbling incoherently, sometimes dirty shit you could never imagine spitting out of his mouth.

He tells you how long he’s wanted this.

How many times he’s thought about bending you over a desk, study sessions be dammed.

How good you look taking all of him.

He's fucking whimpering in your ear.

Vision whitening, your eyes roll to the back of your head, toes curling, nails gripping his back, mouth open on a silent scream. Even the noise the bed frame is making while hitting the wall gets turned down. All you could hear it's him . Feel him, just making you take it. No space to run.

“You’re mine,” he whimpered, eyes glazed tugging on your earlobes with teeth, it's all too much “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum”

His hand, the one on your lower back, snakes between your legs and he begins to circle your clit, making your body lock, pussy gripping so hard he makes a cute painful face, slamming one last time and letting out a pretty broken moan, your body shaking as he fill you up. Nice and warm.

The moment seems to linger, his arms around you, two hearts beating fast, breaths hard, your sanity coming back.

You just had the best fuck of your life with the Armin Arlert, the campus adorable nerd, and open your eyes to see his dorm room, crumpled with books, cute figures and wall with Star Wars posters.

“If I knew your dick game was this good, I would've fucked you sooner” Armin giggles. Fucking giggles into your ear like he didn't just railed you so good it ruined you to everybody else.

“And the dirty talk? ” you say and he whines embarrassed.

Armin’s face emerges from your neck, flushy with wet hair clinging onto his forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” You shift, and he gently slips out of you, grabbing a towel from the desk drawer — probably prepped days ago with overly optimistic hope. It’s soft, and he cleans you carefully, like you’re something precious.

He tosses it into the laundry after, climbs back into bed after putting on a boxer with a shy smile, gives you a clean t-shirt then when you're done, pulls you into his arms without hesitation.

You melt into him.

“Stay,” he says softly, voice muffled in your messy hair. “Don’t leave yet.”

You nestle closer. “I wasn’t planning on it.” And just like that, you sleep.

——

You wake up tangled in warmth.

There’s light creeping through the blinds, golden and soft. Armin’s arms are still around you, one hand tucked under your (his) shirt — possessive and sweet. He’s snoring, faintly. His hair is a mess.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment, heart full.

And then, like a wave crashing over you:

Holy shit, you love him.

You love the dumb way he looks at you, all big eyes and sweet smiles. You love his nervous hands. His annotated study guides. The way he tastes when he kisses you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You love Armin .

He stirs as you shift slightly, blinking himself awake.

“…Hi,” he says, voice still gravelly.

“Hi.”

“You okay?” he whispers into your hair, fingers brushing over your thigh tattoo again — featherlight and curious, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Mhm,” you murmur. “More than.”

He shifts just enough to look at you, his blue eyes sleepy and searching. “Not sore?”

You snort. “Armin, you fucked me like you’ve got something to prove.”

“I do,” he says, so seriously that you laugh.

“You win, baby. Gold star. Five out of five. Would let you destroy me again.”

His cheeks go crimson. “That’s not— I mean, I didn’t want to go too hard—”

“Shhh,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throat. “You were perfect. Actually…”

You roll to your back and stretch, wincing dramatically. “I think you might’ve ruined me for literally anyone else.”

That makes his entire body go still.

Then—

“Good,” he mumbles, pulling the blanket over both of you. “'cus you’re mine.” He doesn't say it like a joke or a challenge. Just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

You blink up at him, heart skipping. “Yours?”

Armin’s eyes flick down to yours. He nods. “Unless… that was just a one-time thing for you?”

You frown instantly. “What? No. Of course not. I—Armin, you know it’s not like that.”

He nods again. “Okay. I just— I’m not used to this. Having someone. Like this. You’re…” He exhales. “You mean a lot to me.”

Your chest tightens. You lean in and kiss him slow, one hand cupping his face.

When you pull away, you say, “You’re my person, Armin.”

He smiles, not that flustered little curve you used to get — this one is full. Confident. A little smug. “So I guess that makes me your boyfriend?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Guess?”

“Okay,” he amends. “That makes me your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head. “Say it again.”

He leans in, kisses your nose. “Boyfriend.”

You grin. “Girlfriend.”

“Mine.”

“You are. Mine.”

You let the moment linger — sweet and weightless — then raise a brow. “So... what are the girlfriend benefits, exactly? Am I getting snacks? Back rubs? Photo booth printouts in your wallet?”

“You already got extra credit,” he smirks, dragging a hand down your bare back. “What more do you want?”

You fake gasp, hitting his arm.

Armin chuckles, burying his face into your neck. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you love it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, gaze tender. “I really do.” he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s known it longer than he’s known anything.

You kiss him, slow and sure.

No rush this time, just your heart in his hands, and his smile against your lips.

#armin x reader #aot x reader #x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x you #armin smut #armin fluff #morden au #attack on titan x reader

160 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 3 days ago

Note

Hello🥹 I’m new to your blog and I’m loving the AYW series. I honestly got hooked on the Ryan’s Birthday party one shot, could I maybe request a follow-up to Steve’s and Eddie’s conversation of “you should be fucking the babysitter”? maybe Eddie accidentally bumping his head against the car he was working on and coming out and sharing a beer with Steve starting with “no man, no way”, and then sharing feelings about his relationship with Brittany and with her? Maybe confessing he has somewhat of a crush on her? And then coming home to find her after that conversation with Steve? Maybe Steve is the one who drops him home and comes inside the house for a bit? Haha sorry if it is too specific 🥹💖 I’m really loving the series

It was time for some more of this dynamic duo. This picks up right at the end of Ryan's Birthday

Words: 1.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“So, uh, question for you. Are you fucking the babysitter? Because between you and me? You should be.”

Eddie’s head bumps against the hood of the car he had just begun to work on again. His throat goes dry, words failing him as he stares into the face of his best friend. “What?” he finally rasps out. “W-Why would you ask that?”

Steve can’t help but roll his eyes. Munson can’t act for shit and Steve wonders how he never noticed the man’s crush on the younger woman before.

“Oh, cut the bullshit, it’s me,” Steve says.

The bangs and whirs of the garage around them suddenly seem too quiet to Eddie, like everyone in the building will hear anything he says out loud. But what is he going to say? He’s never uttered a word about his feelings for you out loud. The guilt already ate at him that he had these feelings at all. It was hard enough to admit how he feels about you to himself, he isn’t sure how to vocalize it, even if it is to his best friend.

“I, uh…” Eddie clears his throat and takes the grease-soaked rag off his shoulder just to have something to do with his hands.

“Dude,” Steve says. “Do you think I’m going to tell anyone? What, I’m gonna go to Brittany? I hate talking to her about anything at all; I’d never voluntarily do it. Just spill it, I already know.”

“H-How?” It’s the only word Eddie’s able to utter.

Steve huffs a laugh, amazed by his friend’s obliviousness.

“You weren’t subtle. I mean, maybe to someone who doesn’t know you. But I was there back in those days when you fell in love with Brittany. Shit, you look at the babysitter with way more love than you ever did her. I thought I’d see little cartoon hearts in your eyes.”

Heat blooms in Eddie’s face, both in embarrassment and nervousness. His eyes shift from left to right, his mind running all over the map. If Steve noticed, who else did? Wayne did give him a look at the end of Ryan’s party the other day. Of course the old man knows, he knows Eddie better than anyone.

Wait, if Steve clocked this, did Nancy? Oh God, she must think he’s the worst. Having these thoughts and feelings about a woman who isn’t his wife. A woman who is so much younger than him. Did Max notice? Did Lucas? Did you?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill the hell out,” Steve says, waving a hand in front of his friend. “Stop that brain from going into panic mode.” “Do you think anyone else–”

“No,” Steve says before Eddie can finish his question. “I started to look out for it once I noticed. Then it was painfully obvious. You look like a God damn puppy when she smiles at you.”

An involuntary goofy smile grows on Eddie’s face, and it’s all the confirmation Steve needs—though he really didn’t need any at all.

“Jesus Christ, you’re really gone for her.”

Eddie looks around to make sure there’s no one close enough to hear his words. The last thing he needs is someone else learning about his shameful secret. “I really fucking am,” Eddie says. “Shit, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Steve huffs a small laugh and shakes his head.

“She’s a good kid. Oop, sorry. I’ll choose my words more carefully.”

Steve winces when Eddie glares at him.

“She’s not a kid,” Eddie states.

“How old is she?”

“Twenty.”

Steve considers for a moment, and Eddie takes in every little minute detail of the expressions on his face.

“Holy shit, calm down, will you? I’m not judging you. Or her. I mean, Jesus, do you remember what I was like in high school?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I have no room to judge anyone. And besides, it’s not even that big of an age gap.”

“Twelve years,” Eddie says with a shrug. “And it’s not like she’s a teenager.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, but something about that would make it seem weird. Never mind the difference is only a few months.”

“You’re not helping,” Eddie grits out.

Steve waves his hand in the air in a dismissive manner.

“I already said I’m not judging, damn. She seems pretty mature for her age, too.”

“She is.”

The smile on Eddie’s face warms Steve’s heart—not that he’d ever tell him that. But he’s watched his best friend deal with a shitty marriage for almost a decade now. The light in his eyes went out around the time Ryan was born, and Steve hasn’t seen it since. So Steve doesn’t care if this woman was eighteen or eighty, she made Eddie happy, and that’s something Steve worried he’d never see again.

“But you’re not fucking?” Steve asks just to clarify.

“No,” Eddie says, both of them picking up on the disappointment in his tone.

“Would you leave Brittany for her?”

And there it is. The question Eddie’s pondered on those nights when sleep just won’t find him and he’s staring at the ceiling fan spinning round. It’s all so much more complicated than just that simple question. But if Eddie can’t even come up with an answer to this, how would he be able to figure any of the other shit out? Thoughts of his sons and everything that would put them through go through his head, and he can’t bring himself to say he’d willingly inflict that kind of pain on them.

“I don��t know.”

Eddie’s voice is quiet, uncertain.

“Would you cheat on Brittany with her?”

This is another question that’s swirled around in Eddie’s head. One that’s much easier to answer, in his opinion.

“After she’s been cheating on me for more than half of our relationship? Hell yes.”

“You’d feel guilty, though.”

It’s not a question; Steve knows him.

Eddie sighs and throws the rag over his shoulder again. He kicks his scuffed boots against the floor of the garage and rests his hands on the open hood of the car.

“I think I’d get over it.”

“Oh, I know you would,” Steve says with a knowing smirk. “The minute you find out that she has feelings for you, too? Shit, you’re going to forget you even have a wife. And that’s not necessarily bad with you, honestly. Because in a lot of ways, you don’t have a wife. She’s not been a real partner for how long?”

Eddie scoffs. “Ever?”

Steve snorts a laugh in agreement.

“Man, I’m not telling you what to do…”

“But you are,” Eddie says with a smirk.

“Maybe,” Steve says with a shrug. “But go for it with the babysitter, yeah?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head as he looks down into the engine bay of the car he’s supposed to be working on.

“You say that like she’ll want me.”

“Feel it out,” Steve suggests. “That’s what flirting is for, no? Not like you’re not already doing that.”

“What?” Eddie looks up at his friend in confusion.

Steve can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle and roll his eyes at how utterly oblivious his friend is.

“You’re shitting me, right? When you threw her in the pool?” Steve raises his eyebrows. When Eddie just continues to look confused, Steve rubs at his brow. “Wow. The way you held her and looked at her? You practically eye-fucked her.”

Eddie scoffs a laugh, and his cheeks turn red.

“What? No way.”

“Whatever man,” Steve says as he shakes his head in exasperation. “Here, just take this.”

Steve takes his hand out of his pocket and holds it out towards Eddie. The mechanic frowns in confusion and he extends his hand palm up. The foil of a condom falls against his dirty and greasy hand. Eddie’s eyes widen as he quickly shoves the small square in his pocket before someone else can see it.

“You think I don’t have these at home?” Eddie hisses.

“It’s been a minute,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s kidding or not. “They’re probably expired.”

Eddie groans as he drops his head back.

“God, you might be right. They’re probably older than Luke.”

Steve would laugh if he didn’t think Eddie was serious.

“Better toss those so you don’t accidentally use one. The last thing you need is to knock up the babysitter.”

Instead of automatically agreeing like Steve assumed he would, Eddie chokes on his own saliva and avoids Steve’s eyes. He gets weirdly quiet before he sputters something about having to get back to work. The red face is enough of a clue for Steve, though; a clue he never wanted nor asked for.

“Alright,” Steve says with a nauseated expression on his face. “That’s a conversation for another day. After, like, five drinks.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWs #request

153 notes · View notes

soundlessdragon · 2 days ago

Text

So, not really ready to think for yourself under any circumatance yet, are you?

1a. The public votes according to what they believe. It is amusing for your AI to claim that public opinion cannot be affected by misinformation.

1b. True, and they also upheld slavery and segregation and oppression for decades as well. Many laws are oppressive and unjust.

2. ChatGPT is correct about what the debate should center on, and I am happy to have those conversations with pro-choicers any day. Unfortunately the AI is wrong - I still see many pro-choicers in comment sections claiming the fetus is not alive and/or not human.

3a. Former abortion supporters who used to say preborn children were non-human clumps of cells have changed their minds upon facing images of the reality of prenatal development. Images of miscarriages and abortions at any stage are effective in touching the heart of the abortion supporters who still try to live in denial of early human development.

3b. Throughout history photography of victims of human rights injustices have been circulated to bring awareness and rememberance. The torture and starvation and executions at Dachau, the brutal wounds of the whipped and beaten slaves in the USA in the 1800s, the melted faces of women who survived acid attacks in the UK and India, the bodies of infant girls abandoned to die in the gutters of India and China, and now the burned and dismembered bodies of abortion victims. A significant facet of our humanity is how our morality and emotions are closely linked. If we cannot be stirred to feel compassion for the suffering in the world, we will be complacant or even complicit in many atrocities against those who are weaker than us.

4a. Like my previous point, survivers of human rights injustices are powerful voices against those atrocities, even if it is rare for there to be a survivor.

4aii. "Standard medical care" that kills humans should be criminalized.

4b. That law is rarely enforced, which contributes to the number of abortion survivors being so low. It would pretty much require the abortion doctor or attending nurses to report themselves, which clearly they have many reasons to not want to do that.

4c. I don't know where chatGPT got that point from, it does not reflect any comment I made in my previous post.

5. Have some sources! I know you won't read them since you are too lazy to even write your own arguments

It is proven that by 20 weeks gestation human fetuses fully experience pain, with in utero surgeries requiring anesthesia for the fetus, but it is theorized by some neonatal researchers (even pro-abortion ones) that the neurological development of the fetus potentially allows for pain sensation as early as 12 weeks. Perinatologists have observed embryos reacting to tactile stimuli as early as 8 and 12 weeks (see below endoscopy recording).

youtube

In conclusion, ChatGPT has debunked nothing. Restrictive laws are necessary where lenient laws fail to protect an oppressed group.

6. I never called pro-choicers a cult but maybe chatgpt has a point there lol

Response to conclusion: I wouldn't expect an AI to understand that protecting human life should always be morally absolute. The point of my original post was to commiserate with fellow anti-abortion advocates, not to persuade, so "preaching to the choir" and "not evidence-based" are moot. I certainly did not dehumanize pro-choicers so chatGPT pulled that out of its virtual butt

Conclusion: basically what I would expect from an AI. Do your own research and arguing next time my dude

Abortion only remains legal because of the widespread misinformation surrounding it, you can't change my mind.

Do you know how many times a day I see abortion advocates who think a fetus is non-human, non-living, a parasite, a formless clump of cells? How often pro-choicers tell themselves that the photographs of tiny torn-apart bodies are photoshopped, that the born-alive abortion survivors' stories and medical records are fabricated, that the science showing a fetus's ability to feel pain is just manipulation tactics? Frankly, the lack of education is pathetic.

#looooooooong post #abortion #sources #discourse #long post #this is my last time arguing with an ai for the time being so sayonara #edit: added a link

488 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 2 days ago

Text

Easy To Love/Hate (Steddie & Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: Im not sure what triggered this but Y/N is very much a manifestation of alot of my fears and trauma. But yeah, she's also very inspired by Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

New record of longest story I've written and they definitely have more of a story to tell.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Steddie & Plus Size Fem Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, semi public (lover's lake, no one is around), stoned sex (but its consensual), oral (m and f receiving), fingering (m and f receiving), p in v, frotting, unprotected p-in-v, slight overstimulation if you squint, aftercare always.

ANGST! Eddie and Steve have an intimate encounter when they were younger but not aren't friendly which is expanded in as the story progresses, Reader is mentioned as being inquisitive and asks alot of questions but she does make it clear that they don't have to say anything they don't want to, mentions of King Steve and all his insecurities with being popular and his dad, Eddie briefly mentions his relationship with his dad and how people hate him in the town, Reader is new to Hawkins and is slightly spicy :) (talks back to teachers and jocks), Has a run in with jocks and kicks their ass, has a run in with Mr. Harrington who, well IS Mr. Harrington (talks down to her about being poor), Reader pokes fun at her own weight but not a whole lot and no one in the town talks to her about it negatively, mentions of a feeling abandoned by parent, argument between her and the boys... I think that's it.

Word Count: 13, 887

Steddie Masterlist/Donate to Me

"She's easy to love, oh, and easy to hate She tastes like a drug, and she feels just the same Bitter to the tongue, but a thrill for your brain A little bit crazy, but it's worth all the pain.

Her mind is a beautiful thing You never quite know what she thinks But if you're lucky, she just might let you see What hides behind nightmares and dreams."

“I’ve, um, I’ve never done that before.”, Steve murmurs from his spot on the edge of the bed while the buzz cut boy in front of him finished buckling his pants.

“The making out part or the blow job part?”, Eddie asked with a crassness that had the other boy flinching.

“All of it, I guess. I’ve made out with girls but never—”

“A handsome lad like myself?” When he cut him off, Steve flinched again causing the other boy to softly sigh before taking a seat beside him and placing his palm on his shoulder. “I get it. The first time I kissed a dude, my dad walked in at the same time and…let’s just say it didn’t go well…”

Steve’s honey irises scanned over Eddie’s face as his own eyes fell to the floor in front of them.

“You did good…I mean like…it felt really good…having your lips…fuck, why can’t I talk?” He smirked when he heard the boy beside him chuckle. “Did you like it? I mean…how did it feel for you?”

“I like kissing you. Your lips taste good.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods.

“I also like the sounds you make. You, like, whimper when my head bobs—”

“I do not!”, Eddie shouts defensively, pushing his shoulder playfully.

The other boy doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing his wrist just in time and yanking his mouth to his own.

“What happens on Monday, Munson?”, he whispered as his forehead leaned against his.

“You tell me, Harrington. Do you still want to hang out with a freak like me?”

Steve cups Eddie’s cheeks and kisses him again, not wanting to let the boy go.

“If you’re a freak, then so am I.”

###################

3 Years Later

Steve hated history class with a burning passion.

He always struggled to remember dates and certain aspects of the material never made sense to him. Add in the fact that Mrs. Hill droned on and on with no inflection in her tone; everything just seemed to run together.

He did his best though, taking notes and doing what he could to at least maintain a good average so he could keep playing basketball.

Sports was his only outlet for all his stress.

Every time he focused on dunking the ball, he didn’t have to remember that his father kept reciting about his future and what he planned to do with it. With every finished lap in the pool, he would focus on bettering his time and not the fact that he was already bored of the last girl he took out on a date.

Every cheer from the crowd in the stands made him forget that Tommy and Carol had bullied another kid from the debate team or that stupid fucking Hellfire Club.

With every win and applaud whether it be from the crowd at a game or keg stand at a party, he felt more like the king they claimed him to be and he could ignore the fact that he was incredibly bored with it all and how awful it genuinely made him feel.

“Mr. Harrington?”

“Huh?”

“Care to answer my question?”

“What was the question?”

The kids around him snicker, they think he’s joking so he smirks to cover the truth.

“I see we still aren’t paying attention today, are we, Mr. Harrington?”

“She was asking if the introduction of music television like MTV was a positive or negative like MTV and violence in our society are mutually exclusive.” All eyes turned your way as you continued to absently doodle in your notebook. “If it did have any effect, at most it would chill people the fuck out.”

A couple of people gasped while Steve’s eyes widened.

He had never seen you before let alone was aware you were even in the class. How could he not have when you were in his row 2 seats away?

“Miss…”, the teacher pauses as she looks at her clipboard. “Y/L/N. I know you’re new to the school so you may not entirely know the rules but I would assume most schools wouldn’t allow for language like that.”

“Oh, I apologize, Mrs. Hill. It’s probably the influence of all that MTV.”

At your sarcastic reply, you turn towards Steve and throw him a playful wink that actually has the king of Hawkins blushing.

The bell rings and even as everyone throws their belongs in their bags to escape out the door, you slowly maneuver your books into your backpack before slinging it over one shoulder.

“Hey, um, thanks for what you did in there.”

“Did I do something?”, you tease, heading into the hall with him in tow.

“I’m not very good at history—”

“I noticed.”, you giggle, finally turning to give him your attention. Your eyes gradually take him in, from his expensive tennis shoes up over his tight jeans to the polo that hugged his waist. “I’m Y/N.”, you relay as you extend your hand out to him.

Encapsulating it with his own, he sizes you up just as equally totally into the jeans torn at the knee and your converse with drawings all along the toes.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Oh…the illustrious king.”, you sing with a smile and he swoons. “I’ve heard all about you.”

“All good I hope.”

“Let me just say, the whispers about your hair don’t do it justice.” The man laughs at your joke and you grin at the sound. “It’s nice meeting you, sire.”

***

Eddie exhaled smoke from his lips as he sat on the edge of his van in the back waiting for the school to clear out so he could meet the guys for their Hellfire meeting.

He absolutely hated the student body who couldn’t manage to keep their destain hidden for even one second while they giggled and pointed his way as they passed.

Even some of the men at the factory taunted Wayne for taking him in because he was such a “fuck up” and “bound to end up like his father”. His uncle hid the critiques but the employee’s children made sure to relay the information.

“Fuck me!”

Eddie’s eyes darted in the direction where the consistent swears were pouring out of your mouth as you kicked the front end of your car before lifting the hood.

“Please…please, baby girl, don’t do this to me.”, you sigh as you scan the area, beautiful irises locking with his. “Hey, do you know anything about cars?”

When he theatrically looked around and pointed at himself you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, you, Hellfire. Do you know anything about cars?”, you asked again and this time he rose to his feet, slinking your way.

“Um, I know a little bit. I can take a look.”

“Well, I do declare. Thank you, sir.”, you reply with an exaggerated accent that has him smirking your way as he takes off his jacket and tosses it aside. “I’m Y/N btw.”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Oh? Any relation to Wayne Munson?” The metalhead’s body straightened and you immediately sensed his defensive energy. “It’s just, I went to visit my dad to see how his first day of work was going and he was having lunch with his foreman leader with that name. He was very nice; shook my hand and called me ‘sweetheart’.”

Eddie grins softly as he focuses under your hood once more.

“Yeah, that’s my uncle. He’s a good man like that. It looks like this thing here just needs a patch. I can fix it enough to get you home but it’s going to need a mechanic.”

“Great.”, you whine, watching as he heads back towards his van and digs around for a bit before returning with some tools. “So…what’s Hellfire? A theater troop or?”

“Ah, no, we’re a club filled with freaks who play D & D.”

“That’s cool. I can’t play that game to save my life but it’s fun to watch.”

“Pfft, you don’t have to pander to me, sweetheart, ok?”, he sasses, grunting as he begins working under your hood.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, you ask as you fold your arms across your chest.

“It means most women don’t know what D&D is let alone badass girls in Metallica t-shirts so I know you’re just being nice because I’m helping you. You don’t have to. I’m used to people treating me like weird.”

Your fingers suddenly wrap around his bicep as you force him to face you.

“First off, you are incredibly defensive. I’m new in town and I AM trying to be nice especially since you’re doing something nice for me when you don’t have to. Secondly, I don’t think it’s weird or freaky to like Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a complex game with cool missions and shit that I can’t fucking understand but you seem to which makes you cool to me. And third…thank you for the compliment.”

As you grin wide at your last sentence, Eddie can’t help but be totally dumbfounded by you. You had to be a figment of his imagination, right? There’s no way a girl like you existed.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for saying I’m cool.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as he’s done, you turn your key and the engine roars to life. “Oh my God, thank you, Eddie Munson. You are my hero. Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? My way of saying thank you properly.”

“Um, yeah, sure. I don’t eat in the cafeteria alot though. There’s a bench out in the forest by the campus.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous.”, you joke, shouting thank you again before speeding away.

####################

Steve couldn’t get you out of his mind for the rest of the night.

He kept thinking about your ripped jeans and heavy metal shirt, your attitude and the way you effortlessly contradicted his teacher without any fear of consequence. Your smile and the way you laughed echoed through his ears, piercing his heart. He watched you during class that following day as you sketched in your notebook occasionally looking at the board as if you were paying attention.

Today, you had on black cargo pants with chains all along the pockets that clinked every time you moved with the same converse that seemed to have new doodles along the side. The matching black polo you were wearing hugged your curves and more than anything he realized he wanted to do the same.

“Steven!”, Carol shouted as she waved her hand in front of his face. “Tommy’s been talking to you, man.”

“Oh, um, sorry.”, he mumbled as he glanced down at his uneaten lunch tray. “I’m just thinking about something.”

“About that new girl? I heard they moved here because she killed someone in her hometown.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his friend’s gossip. “Be careful with that one. Wouldn’t want you to end up on the news.”

Of course, as if on cue, your chains jingled as you walked by and out the side door. He didn’t even think twice as the jock casually rose to his feet, leaving his food and friends behind to catch up with you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey there, Steve Harrington.”, you beam even as you continue to walk.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting a friend for lunch. Would you like to join?”

“Oh, um, yeah, sure. So, how do you like it here so far?”, Steve asked, cringing at his earnest energy.

“It’s…alright. A lot of people here are pretty conservative and kind of assholes.”

“They definitely can be.”

“I saw you talking to a couple of ‘em. Tommy Hagan and Carol…something. I don’t know her last name. I just know she strongly believes it will one day be Hagan to.”, you laugh. “I heard them gossiping about one of the teachers.”

“Yeah they do that.”, Steve rolls his eyes.

“Why do you hang out with them then?”

Your question wasn’t mocking nor did it carry an accusation. To him you sounded genuinely curious which is something he found incredibly fascinating.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess because it’s better to be popular and appreciated than alone and hated.”

“You really think they appreciate you, sire?”, you ask sarcastically. “I assure you, they’d probably sell you out in a heartbeat. Alright, he said bench in the woods…”

“Who’s your friend?”, Steve inquired, head quirking at the word he.

“He helped me fix my car yesterday. He said his name was Eddie something. Eddie…”

“Munson.”, the popular boy finished for you just as the metalhead stepped from the path to come into view and their eyes locked.

“Yeah, that’s it!”

***

“What the fuck are you doing here, Harrington? Get lost on your way to a party?”

“For your information, I was invited, burnout. What the fuck are you doing out here?”

“Um, do ya’ll know each other?”, you ask a bit more playfully than you meant it to sound.

“Oh, of course. Who doesn’t know our illustrious king of Hawkins High?”, Eddie replies sarcastically as he bows towards the other boy. “Thank you, sire, for gracing me and the lady with your presence.”

Your eyes narrow in amusement as you watch them interact, placing yourself on the table and leaning back on your palms.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was a free country and I could go wherever I please. Are any of the other freaks here? Wouldn’t want to embarrass them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be seen with them is more like it. Seriously, what the fuck are doing here? She invited me to lunch.”

“Well, she invited me to so…”

Both sets of annoyed eyes flash your way and you sit up to face them.

“To be fair, I’m new here so I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other let alone had this intense rivalry—”

“I’d have to care for it to be a rivalry.”, Steve mumbled as he folded his arms across his chest.

Eddie blinked before doing the same but you noticed the emotion flicker across his face.

“Why did that bother you?”

“Huh?”

“He said he’d have to care and you made a face for a moment like that bothered you. I’m curious as to why.”, you explain, glancing towards the popular boy whose own features seem to reflect confusion before turning away in a huff. “Ooooh wait a second. Did you two date?”

Both men’s arms fall as they immediately get defensive especially Steve.

“No! Pfft, I’m not into guys and if I was I wouldn’t date a freak like him!”

“Feelings mutual, Steven! If I wanted a pompous asshole in my life I’d of kept my dad around!”

“HEY! I’m nothing like your criminal father, Munson!”

“You may as well be with how much you fucking hurt me!” Steve flinched as he took one step back and Eddie did the same as he reached into his pocket to find his cigarettes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not hungry at the moment.”

With that the metalhead turned and stomped away leaving the popular boy to stare after him.

“Sooooo you didn’t date but you definitely fucked, right?”

“This is all your fault!”, he shouted, turning on you so fast you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re like a fucking plague!”

“Oh, so you two didn’t have this tension before I came along?”

“NO! We never even fucking saw each other and that was ok!”

“But you never stopped thinking about him, huh?”, you smirk as you lay down flat on the table. “He definitely hasn’t stopped thinking about you.”

“Ugh, fuck you!”, he blurted angerly, stomping away in the opposite direction.

##########################

Eddie had pretty much been chain smoking cigarettes since yesterday afternoon choosing to skip school as he wondered the town. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about that night with Steve Harrington but it was the first time in a long time he actually felt the sting of it.

Every time Steve went on a date with some girl or he caught him making out behind the bleachers, Eddie remembered. Any time Steve laughed at a stupid joke and scrunched his nose, showing off all of his teeth, Eddie remembered. When Garth would tell him about how Steve Harrington stood there and watched while Tommy Hagan pushed him into a locker, Eddie remembered.

But he blocked out the pain with weed and partners of his own, till he was left semi-satisfied and numb.

A part of him wished he could erase the entire memory of Steve Harrington but another part liked having that bit of feeling locked away in his pessimistic heart.

“I said fuck off or I swear to God—”

“You swear to God what?”, a boy threatened just as the metalhead passed the alleyway next to the arcade.

You were backed against the brick wall with some of the other jocks circling you. Your face glared up at them with defiance and Eddie swooned at your confidence.

“I’ll break your fucking arm.”

“Oooo.”, he mocked but you didn’t falter.

“Problem, boys?”, the long-haired man asked as he made his presence known.

“This doesn’t concern you, Munson.”

“It does when you’re threatening one of my friends.”

At the declaration, he noticed a small smile twitch across your lips before they went back to being a thin line of anger. The jock in front of you gestured with his head towards Eddie.

“This freak really someone you want to be associated with?”

“Rather a freak than a dick who doesn’t understand the word no.”

“People don’t say no to me.”

“Get used to disappointment.”

“Listen, baby, I can show you a thing or two—” Right as his arm lifted and his fingers just barely touched your hair, you took hold of the limb and bent it to the side causing the man to howl in pain before you ducked under him to quickly take hold of Eddie’s bicep. “You fucking bitch! You broke my arm!”

“I warned you. Come on, babe.”

Intertwining your fingers with his, you both bolted away from the jocks screams towards the trailer park.

***

“Whew. Hang on a moment, I…I need to catch my breath…”, you pant as you lean your palms on your knees.

“Do you want some water? Our trailer is right there.”, Eddie offered as he gestured towards his home and you nodded allowing him to lead. “My castle.”

“I like it.”, you grin as you take a look around. “You live here with your parents?”

“My uncle.”, he replied flatly, coming around the counter to hand you a glass that you sip as you watch him walk away.

“Oh. When you said Wayne was your uncle, I didn’t realize you lived with him to.”

“Yup.” Eddie put emphasis on the P, popping his lips as he nods.

“Where are your—”

“Jesus, you ask a ton of questions.”, he snaps, stomping towards what you assume is his bedroom and you hastily follow.

“Forgive me for wanting to get to know my friend. Why are you so defensive!?”

“Look, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, people in this town fucking hate me so I’m always on edge when someone asks questions trying to ‘get to know me’. No one wants to know me.”

“Wayne doesn’t hate you. I don’t hate you. Those kids in your little Hellfire thing don’t hate you. Steve doesn’t hate you.” The metalhead snorts out a laugh as he glares towards his wall and sits on his bed. “He doesn’t. He’s mad at you about something but I can tell…he doesn’t hate you.”

“What the fuck would he have to be mad at me for?! I didn’t do fucking anything to him!”

“I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Your eyes take him in before you sit beside him and cross your legs on his mattress.

“I’m sorry for asking so many questions. I’m aware that I’m inquisitive. I think it has something to do with my parents always hiding things and my mom being shady. That’s why we moved here. My dad wanted him and I to have a fresh start.”

Eddie’s irises meet yours with a softness you appreciate.

“I’m sorry for snapping. I am very defensive. People in this town have been calling me a freak since I was a kid, even after my mother died.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs at your kindness and a heavy sigh leaves his lips.

“Hey, um, do you want to get high?”

***

“I didn’t break his arm!”, you cackle as Eddie snickers through his teeth before taking another hit. “At most I sprained it. I’m not the fucking Bionic Woman.”

“Dude, the fact that you could even do that is amazing. Be prepared though with basketball season, some people in this town will be pissed.”

“Look, I warned him. I don’t pander to people.”

“No, you don’t.”, he murmurs softly, passing you the joint with a smile that you match.

“I like this side of you, Munson. Calm…happy…”

“I like hanging out with you, Y/L/N. It’s been a while since I smoked with someone I liked talking to.”

“Not even your friends?”, you ask as you pass the weed back to him.

“I like my friends I just don’t really open up to them, you know? To be fair, no one in my life asks as many questions as you do.”, he chuckles, smile growing when you laugh.

“It’s a blessing and a curse. I notice everything.”, you jest as your eyes widen in playful horror. “Kind of like how I noticed that chemistry yesterday between you and Mr. Harrington.”

“Ooooh…”, Eddie groans, scrunching his nose in slight disgust as he tries to roll away before you grab his shoulder to keep him still. “Do we have to talk about that shit?”

“No, my love, we don’t have to.”

At the term, his eyebrow quirks your way and he exhales, placing the joint in the ashtray on his shelf.

“We were never together…Never really even got a chance to be…”, the metalhead began as you both stared at the ceiling while the acoustic guitar emitting from his stereo continued to play softly. “It was near the end of our freshman year at some party one of the upper classmen were throwing. I was trying to hide but found him on a bed alone in a room. I remember he looked so heartbroken.

He said something about how he didn’t want to be there because his dad had yelled at him before he came. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Bill Harrington but he’s a fucking asshole.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”, you answer, feeling him nod in affirmation beside you.

“He looked so heartbroken.”, Eddie repeated causing you to shift your gaze to look his way. “I don’t know where the confidence came from but we just talked and I told him everything would be ok while I played with his hair.”

“That soft, fluffy thing he’s got going on.”

“Yeah.”, he chuckles, feeling your body move until your head was laying on his chest.

“I bet he felt safe with you.” Your words were muffled by his shirt, his eyes closing when your arm laid across his belly to hug him tighter.

“Yeah. I, uh, he wanted to make it up to me…for me listening and being there…I told him he didn’t have to…b-but he insisted.”

At his strained breathing, you lifted your head onto your chin so you could see his face.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Eddie nodded as your hand cupped his cheek, lowering your lips to his gently, feeling his body come to life. “Do you want to touch me?”, you whisper, smiling when he nods dragging the tip of his nose along yours.

Lifting his palm to your mouth, you tenderly kissed the pads of his index and middle finger causing a little groan to emit from his throat as he pushed up onto his elbow to bring his lips to yours again. A moan of your own filled his ears and he realized then you had placed his hand on your breast.

Leaving him to play, you released him from your grip, laying your palm on the bulge in his jeans and feeling his warm breath heat your cheek as his lips trailed down your neck.

“Do you want to touch my pussy, Eddie? Tell me.”, you command when he nods.

“I wanna—fuck—I want to touch your pussy, sweetheart, please.”

Slowly, you unbutton your jeans and push them down your chunky limbs, tossing them on his floor and throwing one of your legs over his hip that he promptly clings to so he can bring it high up his form allowing you to be as close to him as possible.

“What about you?”, you tease.

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I mean…”, he stutters out as he fumbles with his belt buckle and sloppily pushes down his own pants to his ankles. “Sorry. I’m a lot smoother than this.”

“Of course you are.”

Lifting one of his eyebrows in amusement, he obnoxiously runs his thick tongue along the entirety of his palm and reaches between your legs to rub his fingers through your folds.

“God, you’re so wet.”

Biting your bottom lip, you place your hand in front of his mouth and he smirks before licking it. You scoot your body closer to his till your chests are just barely touching and his jaw goes slack when you take hold of his cock, pumping him at a gradual pace.

“So are you.”, you joke when your run your thumb over his tip and feel the precum that had already begun to stain his sheets. “Fuck, Eddie, your dick is so big.”

“Yeah, baby, it is but you can take it, right?” As he asked his question, the metalhead guided two of his fingers inside of your entrance and his cock twitched at the feeling of your breath as you panted at the feeling against his lips. “Yeah, sweetheart, you can take it. Fuck, you’re tight.”

Your rhythm began to hasten and he matched your energy, moaning along with you as you built each other up.

“Do you want to fuck me, Eddie?”

“Yes, pretty girl, I want to fuck you.”

“How do you wanna fuck me, Eddie?”

“Jesus.”

Your nose grazed his as you smiled and whispered. “Tell me, baby. Will it be hard?”

“So fucking hard. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“Atta boy. Do you—mmm—do want me to ride your cock or do you want me on my back? How about on my hands and—”

Eddie’s mouth cut you off as they crashed to yours and he pushed you onto your back while slotting himself between your legs. You didn’t hesitate when you wrapped them around his waist and after lining up his tip with your cunt, began guiding himself inside you.

“Oh my God.”, you whimper, your nails dragging deliciously down his back.

“Your pussy is just…pulling me in…fuck…”, he grunts, his head falling beside yours. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.”

“Fuck me, Eddie, like you told me. Fuck me—ah—fuck me hard, baby.”

Pushing up a bit, he allows his forehead to rest on yours as he takes hold of your wrists and presses them above you while honoring your request.

“Yes, Eddie, please. You feel so good.”

Your eyes roll shut as his cock stretches you open and consistently hits that sensitive spot inside you. A whimper escaped you when you suddenly felt pressure on your clit, realizing then he was trying desperately to feel you cum.

You moaned his name repeatedly till the ball in your belly dropped and you screamed so loud the metalhead was sure his uncle would get complaints tomorrow morning but he didn’t care.

“Where…where can I…”

“Inside…inside…”

With your permission along with your pussy milking him as your high slowly descended, Eddie grunted followed by a couple more choppy thrusts before you felt him painting your walls.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

You exhaustedly smile as he collapses on top of you, his lips lazily leaving tender kisses along your jawline.

“I’ll say.”, you tease lightly, shakily lowering your arms to circle around him.

“Do…do you need…anything? Water? S-Shower?”, he asked in a groggy tone that had you craning your neck to notice his eyes were closed as he began falling asleep.

“No, Eddie, I’m alright.” His lips continued to move making your smile grow as you caressed some of his messy hair away from his sweaty forehead. “I can’t hear you, babe.”

“I said…don’t…please…don’t…ignore me after tonight…”, the metalhead rushed out as he sighed before fully falling asleep in your arms.

################

Throughout the next couple of days, Steve continued to watch you from afar.

During your lunch, you came into the cafeteria late and for your remaining period, sat with Eddie and his friends without getting any food. He was curious if you just didn’t have the funds to eat which seemed to not only bother him but the long-haired boy as well when he noticed as soon as you sat down, he appeared to ask you something before handing you a bag of whatever was in his lunchpail.

During your classes, you always seemed a bit reserved but you engaged during conversations and debates which he found amusing. In your chemistry class, you excitedly mixed chemicals that began to smoke up the room causing you and your partner to laugh while the teacher scurried around opening windows.

When you interacted with people, you visually appeared closed off but he would listen to you ask questions telling him you were indeed listening. Some of the jocks would pass by and say something snarky and you would reply equally so with little to no hesitation.

One day, he followed you home in your beat-up car that wasn’t too far from the school as you turned into one of the lower income neighborhoods.��

Your eyes seemed to change when you walked up to your front door and to him you almost seemed sad. Someone he wasn’t able to see greeted you when you entered but he had to convince himself to cut his snooping off here because climbing up to a stranger’s window crossed a line ignoring the fact that he already followed you in his car like some creepy stalker.

The next day after school, he was able to focus on basketball practice and was thankful for the distraction. What he wasn’t prepared for was you sitting in the bleachers with a smile and a small wave.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked after running towards you.

“It’s nice to see you to, Steve Harrington. I hope you’re well.”, you sass, rolling your eyes when all he does is stand there. “I, um, I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable the other day. I seriously didn’t know you two knew each other and it’s been brought to my attention I’m a bit too inquisitive—”

“You are.”, Steve interrupts and you sigh in jest.

“I’m sorry, alright? You were the first person to really talk to me here and you’re one of the few jock assholes in this town who ISN’T an asshole so…”

“Harrington! Let’s go, kid!”, the coach yells and the boy flashes him an ok symbol with his palm before tossing a smirk your way.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry for getting defensive and all that.”

“I forgive you.”, you beam, shooing him playfully with your hands as he runs back onto the court.

While you watch him practice, you can’t help but bite your bottom lip to stifle the grin from widening on your face when you notice him showing off for what you assume is you.

Everything changed however when the gym door opened and a man in an expensive looking business suit clacked his equally expensive looking shoes across the court before stopping as his piercing irises take in the boys in front of him.

Steve’s gaze shifted towards him giving him pause and one of the other men on the court effortlessly swiped the ball from his hand to make the basket causing the well-dressed man to shake his head and chuckle.

“Hey, dad, what, uh, what are you doing here? Everything ok?”, the pretty boy asked after jogging towards him.

“Yes, of course. Jesus.”, he continues a bit callously. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d come watch my son practice.”

“Um, okay, but I don’t think you’re allowed—”

“Nonsense! Is it alright if I watch for a bit, coach?”

“Sure, Bill, no problem.”

“Ah, that’s Mr. Harrington, actually.”

As his father laughs, Steve cringes as he glances towards you in embarrassment, his face turning a darker shade when he sees you looking them both over with those inquisitive eyes.

Taking his place back on the court, everything changes as he makes mistake after mistake, cursing under his breath with each failed shot or swiped ball. His final straw was when he tried to block another player and was pushed so hard he fell backwards.

“Wow are you alright?”, you ask, extending your hand that he doesn’t take, clutching his elbow instead. “Steve? Are you ok?”

“Well, son, I must say, I’ve seen you play better.”, Mr. Harrington sighs, not even glancing his way as his eyes focus on his pager. “Alright, I have to head back to the office but—”

“Are you seriously not going to ask how he is?”, you interrupt. “He just got knocked over and hit the ground pretty hard.”

His dad freezes before turning to run his eyes down your frame, snickering at the blue jeans with drawings on the thigh and your Hellfire shirt Eddie had given you that you had cut into making it your own. The symbol was left untouched but you snipped the sleeves turning it into a tank top allowing your flabby arms their time in the sun while showing off your “Do or do not there is no try” tattoo.

“I’m sorry and you are?”

“A decent human being.”, you snap back, placing your hands on your hips. “And you are?”

The players around you gasp as they whisper to each other and Steve hastily rises to his feet, raising a hand to assure you he’s fine when you try to help.

“This is Bill Harrington…my father…”

“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone introduce their parents that way.”

“Steven, who is this girl—”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I can speak for myself unlike you.”

“Miss Y/L/N—”

“No, no, coach, it’s alright.”, his father assures, raising his hand towards the man just as Steve had. “I’ve heard of your family, Miss Y/L/N. Well, you and your father. This town is small enough you hear all the gossip especially when someone new moves in the slums of Hawkins.”

“If that’s the slums, I’d hate to see the over exaggerated, God-y side of town you live on.”

“I live in comfort with my wife and son. I don’t have to work at the factory for 12hrs a day to not even make ends meet.”

“Not really something I’d brag about, Mr. Harrington; the fact that other people struggle while you live above them in your undeserved, selfish luxury.”

He laughs again as he takes steps towards you and you feel Steve’s fingers twitch beside.

“Dad…”

“Shut up, Steven.”, he growls before pointing his finger in your face. “I know girls like you, Miss Y/L/N. You grow up with that sarcastic attitude that screams confidence but the truth is, little girl, you’re just as scared as the rest of them if not more so. You’ll graduate and tell yourself you’ll achieve something great but you won’t. You’ll be stuck here with a husband who hates you and kids that won’t stop screaming, working a job you hate till you’re old and gray.”

Steve feels the anger vibrate through you as everything in his body tells him to back away. He half expected you to ignite and come back with a snarky quip that would leave his father emotionally wounded for weeks to come.

Suffice it to say, he definitely wasn’t prepared when your palm grabbed the jock’s sweaty collar and brought his lips to yours. Again, he heard the gasps of the people around him and felt the wind of his father backing away but all of that was overshadowed by the delicious taste of your mouth on his.

Just as he lifted his palm to cup your cheek, you pushed him back and smiled towards his dad.

“At least I’ll be stuck here with your family growing old and gray in luxury.”

***

Practice ended after your display and Steve didn’t acknowledge his dad’s angry shouts after him as he ran to follow you as you hastily exited out the back door.

As an apology, he bought you a burger that you two shared on the other side of lover’s lake sitting on the trunk of his BMW.

“Are you sure it’s ok that I sit up here? Wouldn’t want daddy to yell at you if he finds a dent because of my fat ass.”

“You don’t have a fat ass and yes, it’s fine.”, he sighs with a smile, sliding onto his feet and reaching down to grab some grass so his hands had something to fiddle with. “I’m really sorry for him. He had no right to belittle you like that.”

“It’s ok. I’m kind of used to it with my smart mouth.”, you chuckle, grumbling the wrapper that had once housed your food. “When Eddie mentioned your father was an asshole, I didn’t expect that though.”

“He talked to you about me?”

Your eyebrows quirked upward with a smirk.

“I said he mentioned your dad.”

“What, uh, what did he say?”

“That your dad was an asshole.”, you laugh and he does the same. “He said you two had spent time together at a party and you didn’t want to be there cause of your dad. Something he said…”

“Hm. Is that all he told you?”, Steve asked with a bitterness you picked up on.

“He just said ya’ll spent the evening together and then you hurt him. I put two and two together.”

“I didn’t--!”, he cut himself off as he fumed and faced away from you. “…hurt him. He’s the one…” When he turned back to look at you, he saw a softness that reminded him of that night and that terrified him. “It doesn’t matter.”

The BMW thunks loudly back into place as your body slides down and your hands grasp his, pulling him towards the water.

“Come on.”

“Come on, what? Go swimming? We don’t have any—”

“Yes swimming and I refuse to believe King Steve has never skinny dipped before.” You see the apprehension in his eyes and grin tenderly as you take a couple of steps closer to him, still clinging to his palms. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to or tell me anything you don’t want to. I’d be happy to place a new dent on the hood and we can talk about…I don’t know…basketball.”

He chuckles at your joke, nodding his head towards the lake as he releases you to take off his shirt, doing his best to keep his eyes focused ahead as you do the same thing. He takes a note that you keep your matching bra and panties on as you squeal in delight before jumping in so he keeps his underwear on as well before following after.

“Fuck this water is cold!”

“Yeah, that’s normal.”

You playfully push his shoulder as you both laugh while you swim a little further out but when he hears you hiss, he quickly swims to your side.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a rock, I think. Ow.”

“Well, um, here. I know this lake pretty well…” Your eyes narrow as he takes your arms and legs to circle around him before he realizes what he just insinuated. “No! I meant…shit…the swim team and I practice out here sometimes and—”

“Steve! It’s ok. I’m not judging you.”

Nodding, you feel his eyes studying your face as you look around the area and up towards the stars that had begun to paint the night sky.

“That night at the party three years ago? My dad had given me a lecture about being a man.” At the sound of his voice, you focused on him once more as his irises seemed to be focusing on the memory within a void. “His examples were basically everything I’m not and I couldn’t stop thinking about it when my mom dropped me off. I tried but… I wanted to be alone so I hid but then Eddie came in.”

Steve hadn’t moved since he took you in his arms and the two of you waded in the water as he continued.

“It all just fell out of my mouth like I couldn’t hold it in anymore and he listened to every word without interrupting or critiquing me.”

“While he played with your hair?”

His eyes finally met yours and when he didn’t see any mocking, he nodded his head.

“I felt so safe and comfortable and when I was done venting I felt so much better. I wanted him to feel good to… I don’t know why…I had never done anything like that before.”

“What did you do?”

Steve whispered it so low that you knew the only reason you heard it was because you were currently clinging to him with your ear near his lips.

“I sucked his cock.”

As he closed his eyes, you cupped his cheeks and gently kissed his forehead.

“I loved everything about it, honey. The way he held my hand and my hair, the moans he made when my throat gagged around him, and—fuck—the way Eddie whimpered my name.”

Your fingers twirled into the hair near the base of his neck as your lips trailed down his nose and hovered just above his mouth.

“What happened after? Why are you both so angry?”

Steve shakes his head as he abruptly cups your cheek to roughly kiss your lips, groaning at the taste of you once more with his tongue passionately searching for yours.

You smiled as his grip tightened to an almost bruising degree.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Steve Harrington?”

He doesn’t verbally respond but you feel his free hand that’s clinging to your waist reach between you to move your panties to the side.

“Answer me, Stevie.”

“Yes, I want to fuck you. Please, baby.”, he begs, his hold on you returning when he feels you reach down to effortlessly glide your palm into his boxers and free his cock eliciting a soft moan.

“Of course, the king has a big dick.”, you tease making him bite his lip to try and conceal his pride filled grin. Your gaze shifts to the void but you feel him watching you as you guide his length into entrance. “Oh, wow.”

“Fuck.”

Licking your lips, you utilize his shoulders and neck for leverage as you roll your hips, allowing your pussy to take him in inch by inch.

“Jesus…you and Eddie are going to ruin me…”

At your whispered words, his fingers on your waist twitched.

“You fucked Eddie?” You nod. “What did it feel like?”

Your eyes open as you assess his features but when he hugs you tighter to him allowing his cock to fully rest inside you, you realize then that he’s not jealous but genuinely curious.

“So good, Steve. He—fuck—held my wrists above my head w-while he fucked me so hard.”

Water had gradually begun to swish around you both as you steadily rode him wishing you had more to stabilize you. The jock sees your wish and swims with you still in his grasp towards the bank, climbing out and lightly tapping your ass to signal for you to let him go.

With his hand in yours, he brings you to the hood of the BMW, spinning you around, and lightly pushing your front half against the cool metal.

“Oh f-fuck.”, you mewled as he slides effortlessly back into your core and thrust his hips allowing the smacks of skin against skin to fill the quiet area.

Chest hair tickles your back as he leans over you and his palm firmly grips your throat while his other arm circles around to your tummy.

“Tell me more…please…”

“H-He—��

“Who?”, he asked gruffly making you smile.

“Eddie’s thick cock stretched m-me open. He was—oh my—making a mess before we even got started…his cum leaking w-while I stroked him with my hand...”

At your last couple of words, Steve watched as you dragged your tongue along the pads of your fingers before reaching between your legs to match his pace as you rubbed your clit.

“Cum inside me, Steve, just like he did.”

The man grunted at your request, pushing up to his full height as he pounded his length so deep inside you that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. Your cunt clenched tightly around him and his mouth fell open at the feeling as you came panting his name.

Fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled you upright to kiss your lips as he chased his own high. It didn’t take long, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and chest to hold you to him as his rhythm faltered releasing his seed inside you.

“Fuck.”, he exhaled as his forehead rested on your shoulder.

“Don’t die on me, Harrington.”, you joked, smirking when he huskily laughed.

Neither of you moved while he continued to cling to you as if you’d disappear the moment he let you go.

“Steve?”

“Hm.”

“I’m cold.”

“Shit! Fuck, honey, I’m…” After carefully pulling out, you watched him scurry to his trunk, digging through it, and slamming it shut before running back around to wrap a towel around your shoulders. “I’m sorry. Let me grab…grab your clothes…”

You gently smile as your eyes follow him as his confidence vanishes and he fumbles over grass to hunt for both sets of outfits the two of you had discarded so recklessly. He seemed different like this…less uptight…less like a boy playing pretend and more of who you imagined he genuinely was.

“Here, um, let me…” You allow him to dress you which seems to make him happier as his own smirk grows, his palms occasionally caressing your skin before leaving a kiss.

When he finishes, you see a glimmer of a question start to form as his lips part before they immediately shut and form into a thin line.

You don’t know what it is but Steve does and to be honest no matter what your answer is he knows it doesn’t matter because of what happened the last time he asked.

“So what happens on Monday?”

###################

To their surprises, not much changed after they were intimate with you beside the fact that you spent a fair amount of time with them, separately of course.

You watched Eddie play his most recent gig at The Hideout and banged your head while all the other patrons ignored them like usual. You went to his trailer often discussing movies and music you both liked while smoking and relaxing.

One Saturday, you showed up at an away game and cheered Steve on as he ran up and down the court leading Hawkins High in victory. He took you to the “cute little theater” as you called it to watch the new Indiana Jones movie where you clung to his arm to cover your eyes as some guy’s heart got ripped out of their chest.

Over the next month, you took the time to get to know them better but both men felt like you were keeping them at a distance when it came to personal things involving you. When you were in their bed your pillow talk was minimal to say the least and the only time they got a glimpse into your life was when you casually dropped things into conversation, breezing past it as if it meant nothing.

“I love this record. Roberta Flack’s voice is gorgeous.”

“Yeah it is. My mom loved soft music like this.”, Eddie beamed as he leaned back on his palms. “What kind of music did your parents introduce you to?”

“Well, my father liked The Police, the band not the conformist bunch of pigs.”, you clarify making the metalhead laugh as he reached for a pack of cigarettes nearby. “My mom always listened to The Rolling Stones which makes senses seeing as how she never seemed to be satisfied.”

The metalhead paused just before lighting the stick between his teeth at the sad drop in your tone right as you smiled and started to sing, “Telling my whole life…with his words…killing me softly…”

“What are you reading?”, Steve asks, having been staring at you with a little smile from his desk where you commanded he finish his homework for history.

“Don’t get distracted, Harrington.”

“I’m not. I’m just curious.” You flash him the cover as he reads it out loud. ‘Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant.’ Hm, sounds interesting. What’s it about?”

“Uh, it’s about kids who have to learn how to deal with life after their dad abandoned their family.”

Something about the way you say that breaks his heart as his head tilts.

“Thankfully, you have your dad, right?”

“Yeah…thankfully.” You pause as your eyes shift into the void before glancing towards his sympathy filled irises. “Hey! Stop getting distracted! Focus, Harrington!”, you giggle, tossing your shoe lightly towards him.

Neither man had to interact with the other but occasionally their eyes would meet as one of them would nod or turn their head in the opposite direction and you had stopped asking questions about their moment 3 years ago which they each found amusing that you no longer wanted pry.

You three fell into an odd routine that felt seamless but you were different, they knew that.

There was only so long monotony could be tolerated in a small town like Hawkins. Something always happened to shake up any routine and with you not being from around there, they imagined it would hit you sooner rather than later.

After a month and a half of knowing you, it finally did.

################

Steve wasn’t immediately concerned when he showed up for class and you weren’t there making a mental note to look for you throughout the day and if he didn’t see you, to call you when he got home.

It wasn’t until he got to lunch and noticed Eddie’s intense eyes scanning the room that he became concerned. When they found his own, relief painted the metalhead’s face but quickly disappeared when he realized you weren’t with him.

After murmuring something to the table, he threw on his leather jacket and hastily flew out the side door, smoke leaving his mouth at his sigh in the cold air when he heard shoes crunching against the leaves that had begun to fall from behind him.

“Fuck off, Harrington.”

“You don’t know where she is either, do you?”, he inquired, buttoning his letterman while he powerwalked to keep up with the other man’s long stride. “Should we be worried?”

“We? No, Steven, WE aren’t anything.”

“Hey!”, Steve scolds, grabbing and pulling at Eddie’s arm to make him stop. “Look, I know we aren’t fucking friends and you fucking hate me but I care about her to, ok? Let’s just find her, make sure she’s alright, and then we can go back to ignoring each other.”

“Yeah, whatever.”, the other boy grumbles, silently allow him to follow to the table to find it empty. “Shit.”

“I mean…it’s just one day right? We can call her and—”

“Do you know where she lives?”, Eddie asked a bit abruptly causing the jock to blink in surprise.

“Um, yeah. I, um, passed by her house once—”

“You followed her home.”, he declared as he began to march back towards his van.

“Um…”

“You think I didn’t notice you follow me home at the start of sophomore year? I live out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people who drive their houses. A BMW stands out.”

Steve blushes in embarrassment, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently climbing into the passenger seat of Eddie Munson’s van.

“Don’t worry. The windows are tinted so Tommy and Carol won’t see you with the freak.”

Ignoring his comment, the man folds his arms as the long-haired boy begins to drive with Steve giving him directions.

“Why didn’t you say anything? About me following you?”

“When would I have done that? When you were ignoring me with your asshole friends or when I was consoling MY friend after Hagan punched him in the stomach with you laughing right next him?”, Eddie spat, shaking his head. “It didn’t fucking matter. What I didn’t understand was why you even bothered.”

“I…I wanted to…whatever. You’re right it doesn’t matter.”

The metalhead’s eyes leave the road to glance towards the pretty boy who exhaled as he glared out the window.

***

“Hey, may I help you?”, your father asked sweetly as he opened the door to their knock dressed in a manner that reminded Eddie of his uncle.

“We, uh, we were wondering if Y/N was here?”

“Um, she is but she’s not really…she’s been in her room all day and…she doesn’t really seem to want any company.”

“We’re her friends, sir. I’m Steve Harrington and this is Eddie Munson—”

“Munson? Wayne’s nephew?” His entire demeanor brightens when the boy nods. “I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, come in.”, he ushers with his hand. “I’m actually about to see him. I’m…pulling some overtime tonight so… I’m sorry, son, but I don’t think I’ve meet your parents.”, he sighs after shaking his hand and turning to do the same with Steve.

“Oh no worries, sir. My father isn’t the friendly type. My mom comes and goes. They work for the Harrington Company that owns a few of the business within Indiana.”

“What are you two doing here?”

All three men turn towards the hallway at the sound of your voice and the smell hits Eddie immediately as the odor of cigarettes and weed linger on your shirt that seemed two sizes too big even on your chunky frame.

If your father noticed, he didn’t make any indication as he beamed widely.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling? Your friends are here to see you.”

“They aren’t my friends.”, you hiss with a monotone that has them tilting their heads.

“What’s with the attitude, Y/N?”

“I’m tired, dad.”, you growl as he presses his fingers into his eyes.

“Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to get to work. There’s food in the fridge and I should be home around 6am.”

“Fine. Take them with you.”

“No.”, he scolds as he pushes his hat onto his head. “You want to be rude to your guests that’s fine but I won’t. Have a good night.”

With that, he flashes them a grim smile before stomping out his front door.

Silence fills the living room, your annoyance at their presence filling the tension to an almost suffocating degree.

Eddie knows this game…He’s played it with his uncle a few times especially after he first moved in.

Whoever speaks first loses.

You hadn’t moved from your spot since you came into the room but when the metalhead took a step forward, Steve noticed your body flinch. It was subtle as if you don’t want to let on that it had happened. You didn’t appear frightened but more so prepared like someone who was at the starting point of a marathon.

Your eyes followed him as he fully entered your living room that was currently being illuminated by the hanging light in the kitchen both men passed. Your house wasn’t big so it was perfect to show off the modest set up of the bulky television in front of an even bulkier couch.

Pictures lined the wall that had Eddie smirking assuming the girl within was a smaller version of you. Steve detoured towards your kitchen noticing that the cupboards were relatively empty except for a few things here and there. Within the fridge was the food your father had mentioned along with a few cans of Coke, bottles of water, and a couple of packs of beer.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to head back down the hallway and they exchange a glance before following.

Throwing yourself on the bed, you collect the pipe near the edge and light the bowl, taking a deep inhale and blow smoke in their direction.

“I’m surprised you two are here together with how much you hate each other.”

“Yeah well, you’re ours and we were worried since you didn’t show up for school.”

A snarky laugh leaves your lips as you theatrically throw your head back.

“Oh wow. I was gone for one day and you both came-a-runnin’ with the person you hate. That’s so fucking funny.”

“It really is. It’s so fucking funny especially since apparently we aren’t friends.”, Eddie replies casually, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside.

“Don’t take that off, you won’t be here long.”

“Jesus.”, Steve sighs as he chuckles and leans back against your dresser. “So much venom in her words today.”

“Fuck off, Steven. Jesus.”, you mime, rolling your eyes. “You small town boys fuck one city girl and you think she belongs to you.”

“Are you a city girl, Y/N? We wouldn’t know. You don’t talk about yourself.”

“Like you fucking care.”, you spit. “You’re going to leave anyway.”

At your mumbled words, Eddie stalks towards you and yanks the pipe from your hand. You don’t argue, allowing your palms to fall into your lap.

“Why do you think that? What happened, Y/N? Did he say something to make you think we would?”

“Oh, fuck you, Munson. How do I know you didn’t?!”

“Because you’ve done it before!! Let’s not pretend you’re the good guy here! You’re a popular douchebag who bullies my friends and fucks anything with legs!”

Steve pushes off your dresser and stalks his way, placing himself chest to chest with the other boy.

“Don’t act like you fucking know me, Eddie. You have no idea what I’ve been through these past three years. You think…” The jock cuts himself short as he shifts his gaze your way and realized your sad eyes were watching everything unfold. He recognized something within them, pain. The unraveling of a relationship that seemed so perfect but ultimately failed. “You heard from your mom didn’t you?”, he whispers.

The long-haired boy hears you sniffle as you wipe your eyes and defiantly raise your chin.

“No. I never hear from her…My dad and I weren’t worth her time…That’s why she ran off with some twenty something preppy fucker without so much as a fucking goodbye. That’s why my dad became so depressed he lost his job because he couldn’t get out of bed. That’s why I’m stuck here in this stupid fucking town with stupid fucking men who can’t admit that they fucking care about each other.”

You rose to your feet and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper from your desk, smacking it into Eddie’s chest.

“That’s why she sends letters to only my father saying she doesn’t have enough money to send him for me but she can go to the fucking Bahamas with her boyfriend.” Shaking your head, you climb back onto the mattress and cross your legs. “Relationships are stupid. That’s why it’s just best to be alone. You two know that better than anyone.”

Steve’s eyes flutter closed as he places his hands on his hips.

“I wrote you a letter.” No one in the room moves or breathes… “You, Edward Munson, I wrote you a letter. That Monday morning, I slipped it into your locker and waited for you to show up. When you didn’t I went looking for you and found you with your friends…fucking laughing…I assumed at me…like ‘Can you believe Steve Harrington actually sucked me off and thought it meant anything.’”

When the jock found the courage to open them again they met the other boy’s wide confused eyes.

“Steve, I didn’t get a letter.”

“Don’t fucking—”

“I’m not lying.”, Eddie cut him off aggressively as if the implication hurt him. “I rarely went to my locker but when I did for lunch to grab my D&D campaign my locker was empty. Fucking Principal said we had to clean them out before…shit…”, he sighed, rubbing his palms over his face at a sudden realization. “It was that mandatory six week clean out especially for certain kids like me who kept bullshit in the locker. Higgins always insisted the school had to look “presentable” and hated that papers would stick out at the bottom.”

“Fuck me. It didn’t even occur to me…I never used my locker so I was never on that list…”

Your irises bounced between them as they avoid each other’s.

“What did it say? The letter?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“No, it does. I hadn’t heard from you all day so on Tuesday I went looking for you and I heard you making fun of me with Tommy outside on the patio. I thought that’s why… that you decided to stick with your image…”

“No, Eddie, God, no. I…fuck…I was so upset with you and hurt. I had no one to talk to…”

“So, talk to me. Tell me what it said.”

Steve let out a breath as he shook his head, glancing your way to see that you were paying attention appearing almost…hopeful.

“It was so long ago. I think it was something like…’Eddie, thank you for being there for me when I needed someone. Most of my life I’ve felt like I don’t really belong anywhere and I’m never enough but you showed me that isn’t true. I don’t have to be a ‘king’ or popular. I don’t have to be some asshole like my dad. I can just be Steve.

A freak.’”

Both men laugh before his eyes fully lock with the metalhead across from him and he moves his body till his nose is inches from his own.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks and I want to see where this relationship can take us. Hopefully far away from Hawkins where we can be happy. If you feel the same meet me in the bathroom by the gym during lunch so we can talk and I can kiss your lips.

Steve.”

Eddie’s palms cupped his cheeks as he surged towards him crashing his mouth to his own. One of the jock’s hands clung to his face just below his ear while his other arm wrapped around his waist.

For three years, they both thought of this moment. They craved it desperately under the anger and pain leaving the other to dream about their encounter at night.

To Steve, Eddie still tasted the same but his kisses were bolder, driven now by experience.

To Eddie, Steve’s tongue was better than he remembered and he lightly moaned at the feeling of being pressed against him as their cocks grazed through their jeans.

When they finally pulled away, they didn’t go far as the pretty boy chased the metalhead’s lips before choosing to rest his forehead on Eddie’s as they tried to catch their breath.

“I missed you…so much…That’s why I drove to the trailer park, baby. I just wanted…to see you.”

The long-haired boy exhales as he absorbs his words, words he had always desperately wanted to hear and thought he never would.

The sound of squeaking fills their ears and the turn in time to see you curling up into a ball on your side facing your wall on the bed.

You were so happy for them but your internal dialogue was whispering about how they wouldn’t have to be alone. They could ignore you now and focus on each other. You waited for the inevitable sounds of them walking out of your room hand in hand as you cried yourself to sleep.

Your frame didn’t stir when you felt your comforter being pulled up over your hip and the sound of your bedroom lights being turned off. Something sounding like plastic hitting plastic had you trying to identify the noise until a soft voice followed by acoustic playing made you realize it was cassettes being moved around.

You heard more movement, like a jacket being removed and shoes hitting the floor before your mattress dipped on both sides and you were suddenly encased in warmth.

Eddie’s soft eyes met yours as his arm slid under your pillow below your head and he slung the other across your waist above Steve’s whose palm rested on your upper belly pulling you back towards his chest while his steady breath warmed your shoulder.

You blinked away the tears and placed your own arm on the metalhead’s hip, pushing against his lower back to urge him closer to you which he acknowledged by scooting towards you till the tip of his nose grazed yours.

Your hand caressed the skin under his shirt as your fingers intertwined with the ones on your stomach as your eyes began to close and sleep took over.

***

Eddie’s eyes groggily opened as the rumble of low thunder subtly shook the wall of your room.

Now that everything was calm, he was able to take in his surroundings all be it through the minimal light illuminating from Christmas tree lights you had hung along the ceiling.

You had so many posters of different bands and movies including one of his many Corroded Coffin banners hovering just above your desk in the corner. Along your dresser were hair products and some jewelry with a few books from school.

Clothes lined the floor including theirs near your window next to the stereo that continued to softly play. Your sheets of course smelled like you and he couldn’t help but inhale your pillow before stretching a bit to notice a few polaroids hanging against the wall above his head.

Pressing up onto his elbow, he took in each photo with a little smirk. One had to be one of your friends from where you moved from. You had a hug grin stretched across your face as she hugged you from behind with an equally large smile. The one beside it was your dad holding your palms when you were a child as you stood on his toes with your tiny feet.

The next few were ones he didn’t anticipate.

In the middle was a photo, you had taken while lying in Eddie’s bedroom at home while you both were smoking. He had been lazily strumming the guitar when you blinded him with the flash laughing so hard afterward at his reaction.

The next was you and Steve after one of his games he assumed since the boy was covered in sweat wearing his jersey. You were sitting on his lap with the camera high in the air as you barred your teeth in a growl and he stuck out his tongue behind you.

The last photo was another image he assumed was you as a baby with a woman holding you in her arms. She was looking down at you with a wide smile that pierced the metalhead’s heart.

“That was the last time I feel like she was happy.”, you whisper and Eddie shuffles back down to lay in front of you. “My parents fought a lot. It’s my first memory of them together…but it wasn’t always like that…some days there was a stillness…I miss that…”

The thunder that had gradually gotten louder boomed overhead causing Steve to sigh in his sleep as he instinctively pulled you tighter to him.

“I’m sorry I was so mean. I’m not perfect, I know that and relationships scare the hell out of me but—” Eddie’s calloused palm covered your mouth to silence you, letting it linger before moving it to caress your cheek.

Just as the rain began to tap against your window, he craned his head to give you a gentle kiss that lingered as he pulled away.

“The first time Steve and I were together, he told me about how much he enjoyed sucking your cock; the way you tasted, your whimpers, the way you grabbed him. Maybe you should return the favor.”

Eddie blinked as his eyes flicked behind you and hovered, telling you silently that the other boy was awake and listening especially when his lips tenderly began kissing the skin along your shoulder.

As his massive palm slid under your shirt to grab your breast, your lips connected with his while you listened to what sounded like the metalhead removing his. Rolling to face Steve, he helped pull your garment over your head before locking his mouth around your nipple eliciting a low mewl to fall while your gaze shifted to observe Eddie unbuckling the jock’s belt and pulling down his jeans with his boxers. Keeping his hand on your back, Steve moaned when he felt the other boy spit on his tip and stroke it along his hard shaft.

The long-haired man allowed his tongue to flick along his slit and the pretty boy’s eyes rolled at the feeling as he turned his head to do the same with your nipple. Your fingers tangled in his hair as the vibration of his groans rippled through you and your hips rolled seeking friction.

“Fuck, baby, that it.”, Steve strained as his palm settled on the back of Eddie’s head as he began to fully take him.

“How does it feel?”, you whisper, his jaw going slack as his tip hit the back of his throat.

“S-So fucking good. Shit. C-Come here, honey.”, he commanded, guiding you to straddle his face and his fingers move your panties aside to allow the organ between his teeth entry.

“Steve.”, you whined, his tongue maneuvering like a mad man as it stroked up and down through you folds.

“Aw fuck!”

At his exclamation, you turned to see Eddie still bobbing his head but you vaguely noticed his arm moving making you grin.

“I told you his fingers feel good, Stevie. S-Stretch you out so good.”

The man underneath you lost his mind as his hands clung to your hips to a bruising degree and he pushed his face further into you making your eyes close as you grabbed hold of his hair. Grinding your waist, you covered your mouth as he sucked and slurped at your clit, smothering your scream as the ball in your belly dropped.

Lazily lifting your leg, you collapsed on your side next to him as he continued to make little whimpers at the pleasurable feeling.

Eddie came off him with a sweet pop but continued to stroke him as he tilted towards you to kiss your lips.

“I’m not ready.”, he murmurs giving you two pause. “I can’t…I’ve never…I’m not ready.”

The metalhead knew what he meant; Steve had his cock in a few ladies throughout his time as the King of Hawkins High but he had never experienced someone inside him nor had he tried it with another man before either.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, hey, no reason to be sorry.”, Eddie coos as he caresses his cheek hoping to calm his worry. “Do you want me to stop? We can focus on our beautiful girl.”, he praises, beaming your way.

“I don’t want you stop. Not yet.”

Steve watches with glassy eyes as you lean over to whisper something in the other boy’s ear eliciting a nod before positioning himself on top of him.

“If you decide you do just tell me ok, sweetheart?”

The boy nods and Eddie grins as he pushes down his pants with his boxers that you help push to the floor. The jocks mouth waters as he takes in the metalhead’s physique, his dick twitching at every tattoo and defined muscle his honey irises passed over.

His gorgeous, ring laced hand reached for Steve’s cock, holding it against his own loosely as he tested the waters by rolling his hips.

“Jesus.” The friction was more than delicious and he desperately needed him to do it again. “More.”

“Yeah? You like that, baby?”

The pretty boy licked his lips as he nodded and lifted his arm to wrap around you so he could pull you to his side and kiss your lips. Hearing Eddie’s soft grunts of pleasure, you pushed up onto your elbow to give him a passionate kiss that had him pressing his waist harder against Steve’s.

“Shit.”, the metalhead breathed, releasing his grip to kiss up the other boy’s chest before his head fell beside his. “I got you, Steve.”

Both men panted heavily as Eddie found a steady pace, your nails running gently down his back giving him more motivation while Steve’s fingers petted and occasionally pulled your hair.

“F-Faster, Eddie, baby, please.”

The long-haired boy pushed up onto his palms to honor the request and the jock took the opportunity to move some of it behind his ear while cupping his face. Steve spent years thinking about this moment. Eddie on top of him with his face scrunched in pleasure, his beautiful lips open as a grunt filled breath escaped him.

What he didn’t realize was Eddie had dreamt of this to but more so with Steve riding him as his head fell back and he moaned with every bounce.

Since they met you, you effortlessly slid into the equation like the final puzzle piece of the perfect landscape. Every time your palms or mouth caressed their skin, they felt almost feral and were struggling to keep it together.

“I’m gonna…”

Eddie nodded as his lips reconnected to his and he reached back down to pump their dicks with his hand. Steve whimpered as he pushed your face into his neck, clinging to you like a child does a teddy bear as his body trembled and his seed shot out, hitting his stomach. At the sight, the other boy followed mewling loudly as his rhythm faltered and his release painted the man’s stomach beneath him.

“Goddamn it. Fuck, Steve… you did so good, sweetheart. So fucking good.”, he murmured gently, eyes glancing around till he found a rag to clean the mess they had made. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah…yeah…need—need a minute, please.”

Eddie smiled as he placed his lips on the man’s forehead and you watched as his eyes closed at the tender action.

“I like hearing you use manners like that.”, he teased causing Steve to lightly chuckle. Chocolate irises flicked to you as his palm reached out to smooth your hair. “How are you feeling?”

You lopsidedly grin as you scoot out of Steve hold and roll on your tummy, pushing up on your knees with your ass in the air. A wicked grin spread on his features as he maneuvered off the other man to position himself behind you and playfully spanking your behind.

“You can take a minute if you need to.”

“Thank you for the approval, babe.”, he sasses even as he hisses while lining himself up with your entrance. “Fuck, I’ve never been this sensitive before.”

“Maybe we should do it at the same time…”, Steve suggested making you and Eddie giggle as the metalhead leaned over you, pressing his chest to your back.

“Have you done that before? Do you feel comfortable?”

“It’s been a few months but yeah I’m comfortable. I have some lube in the…” When you gesture towards your drawer, the jock rolls over to dig through it, promptly finding what he needs while the other boy flops to his side, bringing you with him.

After taking the bottle, you can’t help but laugh again when you hear the obnoxious squirt causing Steve to erupt in his own fit of giggles as he turns to face you. Gentle amber irises scan your features, his palm reaching out to touch your skin when your eyes flutter at the feeling of Eddie’s fingers between your cheeks.

“Fuck me, you’re so tight. I’ll go slow ok? I’m going to have to anyway or else I may fucking bust before we get going.”

As he places a steading hand on your hip, you tilt towards Steve to kiss his lips, your moans turning into subtle whimpers as you curse under your breath.

“Everything’s ok, honey. You’re doing so good.”

Glancing behind you, you listen to Eddie’s soft mumbles of restraint as he keeps slowly thrusting his cock into you. His arm hooks under your knee, lifting your leg into the air and Steve utilizes the opportunity, licking the pads of his fingers to bring them to your clit.

“Oh Goooood…”

“I know, baby, I know.”, he coos waiting for the metalhead to give him a signal that he’s ready which he does when their eyes meet. “Ok, are you ready for me?”

“I’ve never had two people at once.”

“Do you want to stop?”, he whispers.

“No. J-Just go slow.”

This was completely new for them, seeing you so vulnerable. When it came to fight or flight, the latter wasn’t an option. Even when you were enjoying yourself out in the world, you had this strength that they admired.

Since you had curled up into your bed, your vulnerability leaked through and they wanted to show you that they were there and that they cared.

You were safe with them.

“Of course. We got you, Y/N. We’re here for you, pretty girl.”

You nodded as Steve lined himself up with your entrance and gradually pressed into your cunt.

A heavy breath fanned your face as he whined at the overwhelming feeling of you clinging to his overly stimulated cock.

“Goddamn.”

Eddie had continued doing little pumps behind you, allowing you to get used to the feeling of him but as the other began to fill you, your body tensed slightly gripping him like a vice.

“F-Fuck…baby…it’s ok. T-Try—oh my God—try to relax your body.”

“Feel…feel so full…”

“I know, sweet girl. Trust me, I can feel him… we’re so fucking deep…”

While the metalhead spoke, Steve tried his best to use the distraction to his advantage pushing steadily into you till his hips connect to yours. You were sandwiched perfectly between them with Eddie’s breath warming the nape of your neck and Steve’s chest hair slightly tickling your chest.

A few seconds pass before they both pull back and thrust into you at the same time.

“OHMAGO—!”

The metalhead’s palm firmly covers your shout and muffles the pleasure filled groan that follows.

“Are you ok?”, he asks a bit rushed, sighing in small relief when you confirm. “You have to be quiet or else your neighbors will tell your dad.”

“I-I don’t care. Fuck…do that again…”

Placing his hand over your mouth once more, they repeat their movements and your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you loudly whimper.

Both boys find a steady rhythm, sweat and humid breaths sticking to you as you do anything you can to pull them closer.

“Harder, Steve, PLEASE!”

As you press your face into the pillow beneath you, you hear smacking above you but you don’t need to look to know that they were kissing.

“Give her what she needs, Stevie. Fuck her harder. O-Our girl deserves to feel good.”

“Will—fuck—will you cum with me?”

“You wanna fill her up at the same time?”

Steve nods emphatically but it’s interrupted when your pussy clenches tighter around him at their filthy words. A ringed hand moves your hair away from your face and you feel their eyes on you as Eddie murmurs praises.

“Atta girl. Come on now. Let go for us and cum. You can do it, baby.” You scream into the pillow as you tumble over the ledge and their pace slows to give you a moment to breathe. “That’s our good girl. Shit, sweetheart, you always look so beautiful when you cum.”

One of your arms lifts to circle around Eddie’s neck behind you as you sloppily kiss him while Steve places open mouth kisses along your neck and chest. Their hips smack loudly into yours as they chase their highs before grunting against your skin as they thrust their releases inside you.

Both men whisper soft apologies when you wince as they carefully pull out.

“I know, Y/N. It’s alright.”, the metalhead soothes as he climbs out of your bed and you whine as he grasped your hands to bring you with him. “You have to take a shower.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because you smell.”, Steve teases as he rounds the corner into your bathroom after you both, flashing you that signature Harrington smirk.

“Noooo…”, Eddie clarifies, his voice echoing as he sticks his head into your shower and turns it on. “It’s because you had a very long day yesterday and now you just put your body through a lot of exertion. You need a warm shower to just…decompress.”

“A lot of exertion, huh?”

“Mhmm.”, he grins as he circles his arms around your waist and lifts you into the tub. Eddie enters right behind but realizes in that moment that the jock is lingering by the sink. “You to, Steven, get in here.”

“Oh, um, are you su—ok.”

When he climbs in you feel squished between them once more but in a soft almost protective way. You feel Steve behind you reaching for something but you don’t know what it is until the cool shampoo touches your head and he firmly massages it in with his fingers. Glancing down, you watch as Eddie takes your bar of soap and runs it along your body, his palms trying to be as gentle as possible especially between your legs.

When they finish cleaning you, you startle the metalhead slightly by switching places allowing him to be in the middle. Steve doesn’t say a word as he tilts his head back and allows the water to fall along his hair as he sighs.

Taking your soap again, he runs it along the jocks stomach cleaning any remnants of his skin.

Steve’s hand fell on the side of Eddie’s neck, his thumb caressing his jawline silently begging for him to his eyeline which he grants.

Their lips softly connect, the most tender kiss they’ve exchanged tonight.

His grip glides slightly upward just under his ear, holding him close as Steve’s eyebrows dip before releasing his hold but is replaced with yours as you hug Eddie from behind and rest your head on his back.

“So what happens on Monday, Munson?”

“That’s up to you, Harrington. Do you want to hang out with a freak like me?”

#######################

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @micheledawn1975 @twirls827

110 notes · View notes