#why does this always happen when we’re out of weed?

[mathsbian]

I’m having the worst level of pain I’ve had in. Weeks? Fuck fibromyalgia.

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Slutmas Day 5

Double Stuffed (Matt+Nate)

Request: No (I actually hate this so much so please be nice, I know it sucks)

Warnings: Double vaginal penetration, fwb!Nate, use of marijuana, use of ma/mamas, voyeurism if you squint, slight daddy kink, boys kissing (just to please y/n) lmk if I missed any

“You think you can take two dicks?” “We’re both dying to be inside you”

Group Chat

Homies 😮‍💨

Matt🪼

i’m bored, wanna hang out?

Y/n🪩

i’m down

i just got back from the dispo, do you guys wanna come over and smoke?

Chris🍊

you guys choose the one day i’m fucking busy

Nate🎱

oh i’m for sure coming

Nick🦜

as much as i’d love to go, i already made plans with madi 🥺

i’ll be there in spirit tho 😙

Matt🪼

bet! let me get changed n pick nate up then we’ll be there

Y/n🪩

be fast

Nate🎱

don’t be impatient

Real Life

Nate’s pov

I was so happy that Y/n invited us over after Matt said he was bored. I got even happier when she told us she just got weed. We haven’t hung out in like two weeks too so we’re also gonna catch up a bit. I grabbed my phone and put my shoes on before waiting on Matt, once he was finished getting ready, he picked me up and we started driving. “Hey Nate, can I lowkey confess something?” Matt asked me in a serious tone as he drove.

“Yeah of course man, what’s up?” I responded, “I- uh I don’t know how to say it without it being weird but I feel like whenever we smoke with Y/n/n…” he trailed off, trying to think of better wording. Matt just blurted out “…all I can ever think about is all the different ways I know I could make her cum. You know, like I think about is how many times I could make her cum by doing a specific thing” I laughed at Matt’s dramatic sigh at the end.

“Dude… now you’re gonna have ME thinking about that shit all night! Now that you mention it though, I have had dreams about making her cum and would love to see how many times I could make it happen!” I joked back. “We’re bad friends bro! Let’s try not to do that all night, and don’t look at me with your stupid little obvious faces” he chuckled as we pulled into Y/n’s driveway. Immediately, we were greeted by Y/n, she looked so cute in her shorts, and tank top with her messy bun/clip.

“Matty! Nathan!” she yelled while opening the front door, she knows how much Matt hate being called that, and that’s why she does it. We went into her house and got comfy around the coffee table, “Here” Y/n gesture towards the table. “I just got my nails done so one of you has to roll” she giggled as she jumped into the blanket on the couch.

3rd person pov

The boys laughed at their friend before they sat in front of the table and rolled three joints each. “Scoot over I want some blanket!” Matt yelled, nudging his best friend so she’d move. “Oww, you boney fuck! No kisses for you tonight!” she jokingly said back as Matt dug his elbow into her ribs. Eventually, all three of us took and lit a joint, nobody really saying anything until their first one was gone.

“Can I take my shirt off? It’s not hot, I just wanna be more comfortable” Matt asked, “Can I take my pants off? I wanna be more comfy too” Nate added with a pout. “You know you guys don’t have to ask to do things, right?” Y/n/n laughed at her two friends as they stood up to remove their clothing. “Yeah I know, but I didn’t want to just randomly stand up and pull my pants off in front of you” Nate laughed, “Oh, if I wanted to be more comfortable, I’d just take off my pants or shirt i don’t give a fuck” she laughed back while standing up.

Y/n’s pov

As I got up to go plug my phone in, Nate harshly slapped my ass, giving it a quick squeeze, “We know. Just look at that outfit… you look like a hoe!” Nate said in a fake serious tone, causing us all to laugh. I sat back down while rolling my eyes as I handed the boys their second joint, which we quickly started smoking. “Yeah Y/n/n, you always wear slutty outfits around us. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like us seeing your body” Matt smirked at Nate, on my other side.

“Shut up, I do not! I just find my body sexy and like to show it off. Stop acting like you’re not a literal sex icon” I shoved Matt. Nate pulled me closer to him, immediately messing with Matt, you see, the thing is that Nate and I have been hooking up for a little over a year. Meaning we’re friends with benefits, which explains why we’re always so touchy. Nate placed one of his hands on my inner thigh near my pussy, lightly teasing my clit trough the layers of clothes.

Once we finished our second joints, Matt seems to finally notice Nate’s hand, which had now moved my shorts and panties to the side. At this point, Nate was now full-on rubbing my bare clit, I was so high right now that I honestly didn’t give a fuck that Matt was right there. Anyways, Matt saw Nate’s hand when he turned to look at me, the room now being silent since the movie we were watching ended.

3rd Person pov

Nate was just mindlessly scrolling through his phone until his brother spoke. “Oh my god- Nate!!” he gasped, “Huh?” the younger asked, unamused by Matt’s outburst. “Dude, why are rubbing Y/n’s clit!? And why in front of me!?” Matt yelled, confused and completely unaware of the conversation the other two had a week prior.

•FLASHBACK STARTS•

3rd Person pov

Nate and Y/n were making out after he ate her out, slightly dirty talking in between kisses. Wanting to tease Nate a bit, Y/n pulled away to start speaking, lightly cupping the side of his face. “I wish you would grow a beard like Matt, he looks so hot when he doesn’t shave” she pouted.

This made Nate get slightly more possessive, clenching his jaw in jealousy. “Oh, so you wanna fuck him now too? Fucking whore!” Nate groaned. “I just wanna know how his beard would feel between my legs” the older girl pouted, resulting in Nate slamming into her.

Y/n wasn’t ready so it kind of hurt, but that pain quickly turned into pleasure as Nate continued to roughy thrust into her. “Such a whore! You want us both to fucking destroy you, huh? Maybe I’ll make it happen for you one day, babe” he teased. “Please!” she cried out, knowing Nate was definitely gonna have his fun with her now that he’s jealous.

•FLASHBACK ENDS•

Real Life

Matt’s pov

Seeing Y/n’s wet pussy cover my best friends fingers with her slick was so fucking hot. Neither of them noticed me looking so I just watched as his two fingers glide through her fold before I decided to speak up. “Oh my god- Nate!?” I yelled in fake confusion as if I wasn’t just watching him. Nate gave back a small “Huh?” without looking up from his phone, so I decided to be a bit more dramatic with my reaction.

“Dude, why are you rubbing y/n’s clit!? And why in front of me!?” I gasped like I was shocked. Y/n didn’t say anything and just looked directly up at Nathan, pink lightly brushing across her cheeks. “Because it’s what I always do when I smoke with just Y/n/n and she likes it. Figured you wouldn’t mind based off what you said on the way over” he shrugged, lowkey putting our conversation on blast.

That kinda put me in my place, making my eyes go wide, “Oh- um well, uh… continue doing your thing then I guess” I nervously stuttered out before my phone went off and was confused to see Nate’s contact messaging me.

iMessages

Nate🎱

you can go ahead and touch her, i know you want to

swap your fingers out for mine and welder how long it takes her to realize

Matt🪼

are you crazy!?

i’m not gonna touch y/n with her permission!

Nate🎱

oh trust me matthew, you have her permission

god she wants to fuck you so bad, even tells me about it when were having sex

always asking me to grow a beard so she can pretend i’m you when i eat her out

Matt🪼

stfu dude you’re lying

just because you say that doesn’t mean she actually said it and it’s true

Nate🎱

yeah yeah just watch this

Real life

Matt’s pov

I turned off my phone and looked over at Nate with a confused face. Well at least that was until he smirked at me and texted someone else, which I’m assuming was Y/n because two seconds later her phone went off. I saw her read the message and smile, “Will you guys roll 3 more joints and a blunt for us to share please?” she asked, looking directly at me with puppy dog eyes.

Obviously I wasn’t gonna say no because it’s been a few hours and we’re starting to lose our high. “Only because you asked so nicely” he joked, looking at me for my answer, I lowkey was distracted by his fingers sliding up and down Y/n’s wet cunt. “Huh? Oh, yeah I’ll roll for you” I said when I realized I was staring, that’s when the bizarre thing was said.

Nate pulled his fingers out of our best friend, fixing her panties so she could sit up normally but instead of licking his fingers clean himself, they were shoved in my face before he said something bizarre. “C’mon Matty, clean my fingers for me, I’m sure Y/n would love to watch you get a little taste of her” he said as he winked at Y/n. I felt myself blushing and I was starting to get slightly hard from the way Y/n’s innocent y/e/c looked up at me.

I pushed my nerves and anxiety to the side before speaking, “If that’s what the princess wants, then it’s done” I smirked at them. I grabbed my best friend’s wrist and brought his fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean before pulling off with a pop. They both sat this in awe, completely slack jawed and wide eyed. I let out a chuckle as I stood up and moved to the coffee table to start rolling.

Nate’s pov

I was honestly just fucking with Matt when I told him to clean my fingers of Y/n’s slick, but when he actually did it, we were shocked. I knew Y/n was probably dripping at this point, and that made me so much harder. Matt and I were definitely going to have our way with her tonight, I can already tell. We rolled the joints and blunt before smoking them fairly fast, now completely high off our asses.

“Do ya wanna play a game with me and Matt?” I asked Y/n who was nearly drooling looking at him. “What kinda game?” she innocently questioned, “A game of letting us make you cum” I smirked as I looked at Matt. A smirk also grew on his face as I said this, leaving Y/n shell shocked.

Y/n’s pov

I was so turned on after hearing those words come out of Nate’s mouth and beyond excited for this. “Yes, absolutely! Can Matt give me head first, please!?” I looked over at Matt, not caring how pathetic I sounded. “Of course princess, I’m gonna make that little fantasy of yours a reality” Matt winked at me as he stood up. “Cmon pretty lady, let’s go to your room” Nate added with a smirk as we all ascended up the stairs to my room.

We all quickly stripped down to our underwear, “Lay down, I’m dying to taste you!” Matt growled as he pushed me towards my bed. Nate sat next to me and watched as Matt hovered over me, capturing my lips in a heated kiss before kissing down my body. Once he reached my panties, he looked up at me, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because once I get a taste of you, I won’t be able to stop” he asked.

Matt’s pov

“Please Matt” Y/n whined, giving me consent to eat her out. I wasted no time in pulling her panties off and running my fingers through her wet folds before moving my lips to her clit. “Mhm, taste so good mama” I hummed against her core while I slowly stuck two fingers in her as Nate started to kiss her neck. “C’mon Y/n/n, tell Matt how good he’s making you feel, stop holding your moans back” “Yeah, let me hear those pretty noises” I mumbled against her again.

The vibrations caused Y/n to let out a whiny moan, her fingers lacing themselves through my hair, slightly tugging it. Nate started kissing her neck while I continued to eat her out, whining when I felt the loss of one of her hands pulling my hair, but quickly smiling when Y/n let out a loud moan and moved her other hand to Nates hair. “Fuck! Matt, I’m— I’m gonna cum! Can I please cum? Please!?” she begged.

“Cum all over my face like a slut” with that being said, Y/n let go and came, her sweet juices immediately being licked up by me. “Such a good girl for Matt, but now it’s my turn to make ya feel good mama” Nate said as we switched spots, he almost immediately thrusting two fingers into her. “M-Matt, kiss me please!” Y/n whined as Nate was sucking on her boobs.

Y/n’s pov

Matt was fucking amazing at giving head but Nate was equally as amazing with his fingers, almost immediately adding a third one in to stretch me out. I asked Matt to kiss me a god was I glad I did because he’s an amazing kisser. Nate was sucking hickies into my boobs as Matt started kissing down my neck, also leaving hickies, making this moment so much hotter.

“Nate-Nate I’m gonna cum again!” I cried out, “Baby you know that’s not my name” he replied back with a cocky smirk. “S-Sorry daddy, can I please cum!?” “Go ahead, be a slut and make a mess on my fingers” he basically growled out, causing me to let out a high pitched moan as I came all over his fingers. Nate immediately pulled away, licking his fingers clean and whispering something to Matt.

Nate’s pov

I had a brilliant idea while I was fingering Y/n, watching both Matt and I marking her up made me think of something. “Matt, bro, how do you feel about double vaginal penetration, you down if she’s down? I know you want to fuck her as badly as I do right now” I whisper to him. “Fuck, that sounds hot as shit, I’m so fucking down” “Ight bet, just follow my lead and talk seductively” he nodded in agreement.

“Can we ask ya somethin sweetheart?” I questioned, gently moving hair out of her face and proceeded once she nodded. “You think you can take two dicks?” “We’re both dying to be inside you” we said, which caused Y/n’s eyes to go wide. “Oh god, yes please! I wanna try it!” she whined, causing both of us to smirk at each other. “Such a good girl. Nate, go get some lube, yeah?” I simply nodded and walked over to her dresser.

3rd person pov

Nathan returned with the lube and handed it to Matt, “You get the honors of stickin yo dick in her first” he grinned at the older boy. Matt lubed up his cock before making sure Y/n was still okay with this, “If you do put your fucking dick in my right now Matthew, you’ll never get the chance again” she threatened. That’s all it took for Matt to slide into her, both groaning at the feeling.

“O-Okay, I’m ready for Nate too” she whined after a few thrusts from Matt, the younger boy lubed up his dick, also squirting some lube onto her pussy as Matt pulled out so only his tip was in. “We’re gonna have to spread your legs pretty wide okay princess?” the oldest of the three said, moving Y/n’s right leg over his left shoulder. “This might hurt a lot, so just tell us if you wanna stop okay?” Nate said soothingly as he started to push his tip in with Matts.

Nathan moved her left leg to be over his right shoulder, the opposite of Matts position. “Fuck! C-Can you push in all the way daddy?” Y/n whined, hoping Nate would push all the way in. “Matt too or just me?” “Both!” the boys exchanged a look before pushing all the way in? cause some tears to fall down the poor girls face.

“Too much baby? Do you want us to stop?” “N-No keep going I-I’ll get used to it. Please I want this so bad” it took a few thrusts for her to get used to the feeling and for the boys to get in sync with their thrusts. “Goddamn this feels good, so fucking tight for us mamas” “So full— faster please” Y/n/n begged as she balled up the sheets in her fist.

“Shit! Not t-to be weird or anything but I really like the way this feels. Never thought I’d like the feeling of another mans cock against mine but damn” “Not weird I was thinking the same thing” the two boys looked at each other for a second. “Please kiss! Holy fuck I’m so close, I just need a bit more! I feel you both twitching inside of m-“ she cut herself off with a loud moan as they sped up a little bit.

“Fuck it, let’s give the pretty girl what she wants” Nate looked at Matt with a smile, “You’re right, fuck it” he agreed before the younger smashed their lips together. The two started making out while continuing their abuse on Y/n’s pussy, “Fuck, fuck! Oh my god that’s so hot! Holy shit I’m gonna cum, oh fuck please fill me up!” the girl cried.

The two best friends pulled away from each other, laughing before going faster and harder. This resulted in a pornographic scream of pleasure from the girl below as she not only came, but squirted all over the two boys thighs. “Fuck I’m gonna cum too! Shit!” Matt shoulted as he shot his load inside her, Nate quickly doing the same before they both pulled out.

“Jesus Christ, that was fucking amazing” Nate blurted out as both he and Matt collapsed of each side of Y/n. “You okay sweetheart? Can we get you anything?” Matt asked sweetly, looking at Y/n to make sure she was good. “I— just can we uh cuddle naked and go to sleep? I’m spent” she whimpered. “Of course, we’ll clean up in the morning” Nate smiled as they all got under the covers, both boys cuddling into Y/n for the rest of the night.

Tag list: @angelic-sturniolos111 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @chrisolivia4l @christinarowie332 @chr1sgirl4life @dev-speaks @ermdontmindthisaccount @flowerxbunnie @fionaheartswomen @iheartchrissturniolo @justaslvttygirl @kvtie444 @lustfulslxt @mangosrar @mangoposts @meerkatzthings @recklesssturniolo @strniohoeee @sturniolohoe @sturniolosluvv @sturnphilia @solarsturniolo @soursturniolo

All work is subject to copyright

©️ Daddyslilchickenfingers2

Do not steal my work

[pedgito]

hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!

author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5k

Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.

“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”

You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”

“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”

“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”

You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.

“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”

“A what?”

“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”

“Oh?”

You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.

“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”

“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.

They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.

“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“

“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.

“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”

You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”

“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”

“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.

Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.

Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.

“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”

“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”

You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”

“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”

“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”

Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.

Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.

“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.

“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.

Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.

“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.

You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”

Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”

“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.

“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.

“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”

Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.

“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”

“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.

“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”

It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.

“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.

Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.

Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“

“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”

“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.

“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”

Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”

“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.

“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”

Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“

“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”

Something tells you that's a lie.

“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”

“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”

“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”

You press further, “But?”

“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”

“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”

“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”

You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.

“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”

And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.

“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”

“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”

It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”

Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.

Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.

“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”

“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”

He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.

“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”

Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.

“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.

“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”

“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.

It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.

You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”

And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.

This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.

Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.

He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”

You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”

“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“

“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”

Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.

Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.

“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”

“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.

You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”

“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”

Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.

Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.

Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.

“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”

“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.

But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.

“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”

Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“

“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.

“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”

And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”

Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.

You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.

“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”

Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.

“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”

You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.

His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.

“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”

Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”

He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.

You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“

Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.

Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.

Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”

“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”

Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.

“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.

“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.

But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.

“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”

“Told him what?”

“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.

“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”

“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.

“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“

“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.

Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.

[merakiui]

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

[hannahssimblr]

It’s just us and the man picking up rubbish here, on the grass by the small stage where I met Weed Alison. I don’t tell Evie I’ve been here before, because telling her the story requires so much explanation, and will lead me back down a winding path that ends with me bickering with Jen before the Foo Fighters gig. I wish I could erase almost every moment between the last time I sat here and this one. It’s been a day and a half fraught with poor decisions and even worse behaviour. 

I still hear the rave tent thudding, but it is so distant now, mostly replaced by the wind shaking the leaves above us. 

“I like it when it’s quiet like this,” Evie whispers. “I feel like I’ve forgotten what quiet is.”

“Right. It can be hard going, a festival. It takes a lot out of you. I hope that you’re having a good time, like, I hope it isn’t overwhelming, despite that… thing at the rave.”

“I’m having a good time,” she says, adding hastily, “today was honestly a little weird, but the festival has had its moments.”

“Yeah, today was a bit weird for me too,” I hesitate, as my excuses catch in my throat. “I’ve… had a lot on my mind, I think.”

“Do you get like that a lot?”

I huff out a laugh. “What? Like, have stuff on my mind? Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then same.”

Her eyes do a quick tour of me. “Jen said you’re a scorpio, and that’s why you’re moody.”

“Oh yeah? What else does she say whenever you two are apparently gossiping about me?”

“Rich of you to assume we talk about you at all.”

“Do you?” 

She shifts self-consciously, but her eyes remain playful. “Well, do you talk to her about me?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Oh. What do you talk about?”

I smirk. “None of your business.”

“Well then,” she says, “I’m not telling you either.”

“Bet I already know.”

“You think?”

“I bet she tells you I’m secretly a boring, moody dickhead under all the facade or something, doesn’t she?”

“She didn’t say ‘boring’. You’re not boring.”

“But she did say ‘moody’.”

“‘Sour’, I think, is the word she used. Which, like, I never thought of you like that. You always seem happy to me. Well, mostly.”

“Maybe because when I’m having a particularly sour day, I just stay in my room.”

“Hm. And you couldn’t stay in your room today.”

My stomach sinks. “No. I couldn’t. Sorry, I didn’t think it was, like… that obvious.”

“I thought it was.”

Again, the words I want to say seem to get trapped. Why is so hard to express myself? Why is it I have such limited understanding of my own feelings? I want to express regret, to tell her I’m sorry if I hurt her by avoiding her, but I feel like I keep opening my mouth and uttering nothing.

“Sometimes thing pile up,” I manage. “I overthink. And… and maybe I’ve been overthinking too much this summer.”

Oh, great, yeah. Good job. That’s perfect.

“Are you overthinking what happened last night?”

“Yeah, maybe.” There I go again, picking at the grass. The bits that I pull from the soil are so dry that they’re like straw, and I take my time examining them while Evie sits and waits for me to say something with any kind of substance at all. She probably wants to hear all about how I don’t regret kissing her, and if I had any sense, I would say just that, but I can’t lie to her face. It’s not who I am, so I just pick at the ground. 

“Hey,” she says. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, and I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but we’re really not that different when you think about it. Like, yeah, for sure, I have a good bit less experience than you, but-”

“It’s not that,” I say. “That’s not what I’m overthinking about. It isn’t you, or your age, or your experience.”

“What is it then?”

Christ, what is wrong with me? I can’t even look at her. With the shrug of one shoulder, I say, “I don’t think it’s a good thing for you to like me like that. I don’t really want you to.”

“It’s hard not to,” she says.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“How could I not, Jude? It’s you.”

I frown. “Mm.”

“Can you just look at me for a second?”

So I do, and her face is determined, her eyes steady, before they drop to my cheeks, my nose, my mouth where they linger. 

Oh, she’s going to kiss me.

I know it seconds before she plucks up the courage, which gives me ample time to stop it, but I don’t. I don't want to. She leans in, and I let her.

She goes in carefully, with her hand on my neck, and her head tilts to the side before she dots one little kiss on my lips. Two. As though experimenting, she turns the other way, three, four… 

I slide my hands around her waist and kiss her back.

Other kisses don’t make me feel the way I felt last night, as though she’s thrown a match on me and set my body alight, so I can justify doing it again by deciding I am too weak to resist it, that they day is long and that I deserve to surrender to something good.

Moving my hands to cradle her head, I glide my tongue along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to me, soft and hot and slow, as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. I bite her bottom lip, and her top, as into my mouth, she moans against my gentle onslaught. The moment she makes that sound, I’m gone. 

I kiss her cheeks, then her nose, and angle her head so that I can kiss her neck, where she smells like sweet perfume, and against her skin I whisper, “fucking hell, Evie.”

Her voice vibrates under my lips as I trail hot, hungry kisses along her throat. “If you want to go back to my tent, we can.”

Yes, I think. The tent. It would make sense to be in there. She lifts my face to hers.

“I can get Claire to sleep in with Shane. We can have it to ourselves.”

I fall back to my body the second we mesh gazes, crashing down, along with the common sense, the guilt and the shame I shed as I kissed her. In a second I have released her and carved distance between us again. “Evie, no,” I say firmly. Tomorrow, I will be impressed by my self-restraint under challenging circumstances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s okay, I want to.” She has so little conviction that I can’t help but laugh. She screws up her face. “What’s funny?”

“Evie, it doesn’t really matter if you want to. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to… do it. With me?”

“No. Is that okay?”

She blinks, eyes a bit wild, and I swear I can pinpoint the moment when her brain jumps to her conclusion. “Is there something wrong with me?” It’s barely a question. Somewhere between that and a statement of the obvious, a confirmation of something she already believes. 

“No. Of course there isn’t. I’ve just been thinking about it, and I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Look, I got carried away last night, and I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I was… a bit drunk, to be honest.”

“You’re not going to break me,” she persists, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t mind. I have to do it eventually, and I’d rather if it was with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Not really.”

“I would.”

“It would make things complicated.”

“Jude, I know you don’t want me to like you, but I already do. Honestly, I’ve never really felt this way about anybody else. It’s different with you. I don’t care about any other boys, this is why I couldn’t be with Liam-”

“God, Evie, please.” I put my head in my hands. What she does she want from me? What does she expect? She knows as much as I do that there’s no chance for something to work between us, not when I’m going away in two weeks. Can’t we just have left it all unsaid? “Please don’t make this harder on me.”

And to my utter horror, my face heats, and my eyes prickle with tears. I am about to cry. In front of Evie Kilbride. I think I’d rather be dead than do this, but here I am, with nowhere to hide. 

She rests her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just that… like, um, I heard you were thinking of staying in Ireland, and that when you get your college offers next week, you might decide to do a course in Dublin, and I just thought-”

What? My head snaps up. “Evie, what are you talking about?” 

“Jen said-”

“I told you I was leaving. As soon as I met you, I told you I was leaving.”

“But Jen-”

“What about Jen?”

Evie shrinks away. “She said that you might stay. That she thought you might decide not to go to Berlin, because you didn’t seem that excited about it.”

The blood roils. “I don’t know why the fuck she would have said that to you.”

“You not staying?”

“No!”

“But…” her mouth opens, then shuts again. The air thickens between us. “But Jen told me.” She insists, one more time, like it's true as long as she continues to say it. 

“Whatever she said to you is a lie, Evie. I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have told you anything about me. I know it’s unfair…”

“But maybe if things… If I… maybe you’ll still decide to stay.”

I swear I can see that last glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it kills me to squash it, but it’s honest, and it’s right. “I won’t.” I make sure she is looking right into my eyes as I say it. “I am moving to Berlin in two weeks. It’s done. It’s happening. I don’t know why she- I can’t believe that’s what she said. That’s insane.”

“You’re really going? It’s confirmed?” As her voice cracks and she fills up with tears. I have a moment where I wish I was blind, just so that I wouldn’t have to watch her cry. 

“Yes, I’m really going. I was always going to go.” I pull her to my chest, and there, in the circle of my arms, she breaks into shoulder-shaking sobs, while all I can think to do is smooth my hand over her back and press my cheek against her hair. Her hands fist in my t-shirt, face boiling. “Oh, come on Evie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry that you ever thought otherwise. I tried to make it as clear as I could. I didn’t think that Jen was telling you that stuff.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, I know.” I wrestle back my surging emotion with a hard swallow. “Well, maybe it won’t work out, hm? And I’ll come back after a while.”

For some reason, this makes her cry harder. 

“Shh, shh, come on.” I whisper. She turns her head and leaves a stamp of black makeup on the cotton of my t-shirt. “God, sorry,” she blubs, mopping at it ineffectually. “I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care about the t-shirt. It’s fine, it’s just a bit of makeup.” I hook the strand of hair stuck to her cheek behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good enough job of staying neutral, keeping my distance. I really never meant for you to have feelings for me.”

“Of course I do,” she sniffles. “You’re the best person in the world. You couldn’t have stopped me from liking you.”

“I probably shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday, should I? It didn’t help.”

And she sits up out of my arms and wipes the grey streaks of wet makeup. “Do you wish you didn’t?”

“It was really selfish. I was only thinking about how badly I wanted to, the way you looked under those lights. You’re so pretty when you’re smiling. I wasn’t thinking about whether it was fair to you to do it.”

Her laugh is watery. “You think I’m pretty?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[fir3ylolol]

hi fir3y :3333 can we have more johnny cage x camera stuff (anything related, nothing specific; cameras in house, recording w phone etc) w him having a long time crush for y/n 😁 kind of like how you did w smile! you're on camera (i cant remember if i sent this if i already did im sorry 😥😥)

dazed and confused

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: it's been a while since you've seen your good friend johnny. but what happens when long-time crush mixes with weed?

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, blowjob, eating out, cunnilingus, long-time crush, weed usage, intoxicated sex, loss of inhibitions, praise, filmed, sex tape, cumming inside, cum eating, putting on a show, whimpering men heheheh, afab!reader, gn reader

a/n: YAYYY finally another post!! its been forever. this was requested by @keiiikomegumi. gotta love men who fall hard and fuck desperately O.O also i think this is the longest fic other than we want you! ive ever written lol

word count: 2.65 k

Ao3

It’s been about 3 weeks since you last saw Johnny, which kinda sucks. He’s always a lot of fun, and you’ve been really stressed lately. So when you get his text reading, “come over 4 dinner, we can chill 0.o”, you quickly respond, “see u thennn”. You leave shortly afterward, excited to finally relax. You roll into his driveway after about 30 minutes of driving, seeing Johnny’s shadowed figure standing in the doorway. You hop out excitedly, walking over and capturing him in a tight hug. He laughs, hugging you back just as tight. “Hey! I’ve missed you, it’s been wayyyy too long. Come in, I’ve already got some food ready.” You walk in, drinking in the familiar sight of his home. You see the table set, two spots right next to each other, with a suspicious look on his face.

“So what do you have in store for me?” You sit down, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. “Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and so have I. So…” He walks out, a large silver plate covered with a cloche. “I figured we deserved a treat,” he says with a smirk, lifting it and revealing two brownies. Realization hits you hard. You see, this is California, and if there’s any pastime Californians love, it’s getting high. Johnny is no different; in fact, he likes edibles more, since he says smoking will “damage his star-quality voice and flawless skin.” But he lives a stressful life, and he needs a break just as much as you. So seeing two, delicious-looking brownies on separate plates, you know exactly why you were invited. And you nearly cry.

“Johnny…” you smile up at him, “thank you. So much.” His eyes light up, placing the plates down for you two as he sits down next to you. “Yay, I knew you would be happy! Ok, I’ve got plenty of snacks in the fridge and cold ass water, so we’re set.” He picks his brownie up, and you follow, clinking them together like glasses before taking a bite. It’s rich, fudgy, and absolutely one of the best brownies you’ve ever had. With a mouthful of food, you try to speak, “Schit manm, ‘his is schoo good.” He laughs at you, finishing his bite before speaking, “It’s been barely a month and you’ve forgotten your manners?” You smack him lightly, before standing up and getting a glass of water, downing the whole thing. He follows you, giving you a big hug from behind. He’s rocking back and forth, face buried in your neck. He’s always been more touchy with you than his other friends, but you don’t mind. He’s warm and gentle and always smells fancy. But you laugh, rocking with him. “The room’s already spinning, oooooh.” He lifts you slightly, walking through the kitchen. “You’re so high, oh noooo!” He set you down, laughing still. “You’re so much fun, I missed you.”

You feel a slight twinge in your heart, the words must mean more to you than it does to him. You’ve been a little glad not to see him honestly, but only because your feelings for him have gotten that intense. A break was just what you needed, but now? When you’re going to be wasted and he’s just so nice and so close? You might break. But for now, you appear cool laughing as well before managing to say, “I missed you too” without seeming suspicious. And you start to fall into the same routine as usual, he leads you to the couch to chill together and watch something fun. He used to go to the cinema room, but once he got too high, watched Rambo on the big screen, and had a panic attack. Plus, you can’t cuddle in there, and he can’t stand for that, loudly declaring that he’ll rip the chairs out every time you two go in there. But he never does. You two end up talking about the weeks you didn’t see him. He’s been working on a new film, but won’t reveal any details other than it’s “based on a super true story”. And he laments how hard you’ve been working, trying to convince you again, “You should just quit and hang with me all the time. It would be awesome.” But alas, you turn him down again, as tempting as it is.

Before you know it, it’s been almost two hours, and you’re definitely feeling it more, the buzzing in your brain is a little louder, and Johnny’s touch gives you more goosebumps. But he leans back suddenly, looking you up and down. “Wait, I just realized, I can’t remember the last time you told me one of your famous bad date stories. What’s going on?” You fluster at his words, so direct and to the point that you can’t think for a second. You finally manage to speak again, your tongue feeling a little too heavy, “I’ve just been busy, man.” He scrunches up his face, thinking deeply. “When was the last time you got some? You know…” He nudges you, eyebrows raised suggestively. You take an embarrassingly long pause before speaking again. “...a year.” 

He leans forward, directly in front of your face. “A year?! How are you even alive??” You push him as playfully as you can, completely flustered by the whole thing. “Quit it, it’s not funny!” He sighs dramatically, splayed out across the couch. “So what’s up? Someone catch your eye or something?” You pause again, trying not to look at him, but your mouth betrays you. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s fine, he doesn’t like me like that.” He scoffs, head still tipped back, “What an idiot. You’re awesome. He’s really lucky I don’t just snatch you away for myself.” His whole body freezes as if he said something he didn’t mean to. You look at him, eyes wide and muscles tense. “W…what?” You ask tentatively. But he stands up, walking away while waving his arms around, “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But you can see the tips of his ears are bright red, and he’s tapping his foot on the ground, something he only does when nervous. You stand up and walk over, staying behind him. “Johnny, it’s something. Just tell me, it’ll be ok.” He takes a deep breath before speaking, still turned away from you. “I said he was lucky I didn’t take you for myself. I didn’t mean to say it, but honestly, it’s true. I mean, what kind of idiot doesn’t like the most stunning person alive? I just…I said too much, and I didn’t want to weird you out because you’re such a great friend and…” He’s babbling on, saying way too much and not making a ton of sense.

But you grab his hand lightly, which causes him to turn around. His eyes are watery, his cheeks and the tip of his nose are red, and his mouth is scrunched up in a frown. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “Do you like me, Johnny?” He nods like a child, free hand coming up to wipe his eyes. “I like you too,” you say with a smile, no longer nervous or guilty of your feelings. He sniffles, looking at you with his wide brown eyes, “Really? You do?” As you nod, he sort of snaps back to usual, but not in a performative way, in a happy way. “Well of course you do! Who could resist all this?” He smiles before pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear before he pulls away. But not fully, as you two lock eyes, and the air grows thick again. You swallow hard, eyes darting across his face nervously. He cups your face with his left hand, and slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s exactly like him, warm and gentle, and it makes you dizzy. In fact, you feel your knees buckle slightly, which he laughs at into the kiss. As he pulls away to breathe again, you can’t help but feel hungry for more. You’ve only gotten a taste of what you’ve wanted for so long, and it’s very appetizing.

Johnny quickly pulls you back to the couch, barely able to think before you find yourself on his lap, hands wandering around your back, eyes locked onto yours. His touch is even more intoxicating than normal, with heavy breathing and racing hearts shared between you two. One hand reaches your neck, pulling you back in. But he’s not as gentle this time, like he’s trying to devour you whole. His other hand is on your hip, guiding you to grind against him slowly. Your hands wrap around his neck loosely. He groans into your mouth, squeezing tighter. You feel his tongue in your mouth, desperate for more of you, more than there is. You can feel yourself growing wetter, so high that your previous inhibitions are gone. Everything is happening so fast, and you’re starting to feel desperate.

He finally breaks away, panting heavily, before looking at you needily. And with how pretty his flushed face is and how badly he wants you, you can’t help but slide down to the floor between his legs. His pupils are blown out, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He tries desperately to pull his pants down quickly, struggling slightly.  But he finally frees himself, cock bouncing out as the angry red tip leaks out. He’s embarrassed, turning his head away slightly, but keeping his eyes locked on you. You have no time to tease, absolutely hungry for him, for this. You take him in your mouth, getting most of the way down before you stop, looking up at him sweetly. He gasps, eyes wide and hands clutching at the couch cushions. You start to move, swirling your tongue around him as you keep a steady pace. His eyelids are fluttering, and very quickly he darts his hands out to grab your face lightly, bringing you up to face him. “C-can I film you? I just…I’ve wanted this for so long and you just look so pretty and I just…I don’t want to forget this, any detail of this.” 

You nod lazily, a smile spreading across your lips as you watch him scramble for his phone. He holds it up, hands shaking as he starts filming. You decide to put on a show for him, looking up through your lashes as you go down again, able to get almost all the way down, gagging slightly. He white knuckles the phone, staring at you intensely. His other hand comes up, grabbing your hair in one hand. His voice rasps out, “Wanna see that face, all of it. God, you’re so good at this. Fuck…” He sighs as you reach your hand out, starting to stroke him as you lean your head down, licking at his balls. He jumps slightly, but the most lovely whine escapes his lips, so you continue, trying to overwhelm him with pleasure. And overwhelm him you do, as he starts squirming back and forth at the intensity of it all, more heady whines. He finally remembers to hold the camera steady, trying to still himself. But as you go down again, rapid and sloppy moves, eyes watering as you look up again, his grasp on your hair tightens. He cries out as he cums, shuddering as you keep going, swallowing it all. You pull off with a pant, looking into the camera and sticking out your tongue to show what you did. He’s breathing hard, letting go of your hair and going slightly slack on the couch. But he tugs at your shirt, pulling it over your head. Even fucked out, he wants more.

You stand up, half-naked, and he tries his hardest to get your pants off too. But his hands are too shaky, and he’s trying to keep his grip on the camera. So you step back and slowly peel them off for him, and you can see his cock twitch slightly at the sight of you. You climb back on top of him, kissing him gently. But he leans to the side, propping the phone against the arm of the couch, and flips to the front camera. He shuffles down a little, leaning slightly to pull his pants down further as you pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his warm skin against yours. He kisses your cheek, and down your neck, reveling in the way you arch your back at the feeling. He whispers out shakily, “You ready? Gonna put a show on for me?” You nod, head dizzy again, as he rubs himself against you, audibly groaning at the feeling. He has no time to waste, sinking into you with a heady whimper. You gasp, taking a second to adjust to him, feeling his hands cling to your hips.

But it’s not long before he’s bucking up into you, using his grip on you for leverage. He’s bit down on your shoulder, whimpers slipping out. Your arms are behind his neck, clinging to him like your life depended on it. You feel him let go, raspy whispers in your ear, “You’re so hot, shit, so tight around me. You like putting on a show for me? Yeah?” You nod, moans pushed out at the force he’s moving now. His voice is shaking more now, but he can’t stop talking, “Shit, I don’t know if it’s the weed talking or what, but you’re so fucking good. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner-” He’s cut off, a whimper as he manages to push deeper, completely enveloped in you. He’s losing his mind, hands wrap around your back for more leverage. But it’s not long before he’s cumming again, a whine as he pushes you down as far as he can. He’s trembling more, heavy pants in your ear. But finally, he’s lifting you and setting you down on the couch. Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to calm down after everything. 

That is until he grabs the phone and puts it in your hands. Confused, you look at him, but suddenly, he’s between your thighs, kneeling on the ground. “Can’t leave you wanting, especially after all that.” He dives in, with no sense of patience, as he sucks at your throbbing clit. His fingers pump inside you, your wetness mixing with his cum. You keep the camera on his face, legs pushed apart as you flinch at your sensitivity. He’s looking up at you, sweet eyes locked on you. He lets go slightly, mumbling into you, “Good job, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” You’re moaning, high-pitched, and slipping from your lips. He’s whining into your sopping cunt, vibrations against your clit causing more jumps. But you cling to him, eyes screwed shut as you cum hard, feeling his tongue lapping everything up with fervor. He finally separates from you, sitting down on the couch with an exhale.

He takes the phone, stopping the recording as he puts his arm around you. “I’ll save those for later,” he says, making you giggle slightly, but you’re quite tired. “We should get high more often, huh?” You snuggle into him, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat under your ear. “Maybe. But hey, those videos better not get leaked or anything.” Your words cause him to whine out, slightly annoyed. “Come on, you know me! I would never. Besides…it would make too many people jealous, you know? Such a pretty thing like you, all for myself.” You laugh again before looking up at him, sleepy but happy eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, by the way.” He hugs you tight, squeezing you with a wide smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[jaysfavoritee]

all to be loved by you | l.hs

PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE. angst, supernatural

CAUTIONS. grief & death, mentions of the church, graveyards, profanity, trauma

WC. 2.9k

SYPNOSIS. Lee Heeseung is not good for you, and he never will be, but your heart can’t seem to agree.

To be his is to be heard. It’s to feel free from the grasp of being misunderstood. You knew you two would never work out the way you wanted; pieces of a puzzle that cannot fit regardless of what you did.

As you made your way up to the attic holding heavy boxes that make your limbs weak and ache, you smell his familiar scent, for a reason that you cannot specify, but you indulge in it as much as possible. Whether it’s true or distorted, it brings you comfort.

No matter what you did, even if you wanted to, you could never escape from his existence. He destroys you in ways you’re thankful for. You know why.

Though, you wish you didn’t.

Your mother calls your name from the bottom of the ladder. “We’re leaving in a few minutes, hurry up!”

You hum softly as you take a moment to breathe. The thick air of the room and the dust don’t make it easier to inhale, but you do anyway. It’s a place that you are drawn to for reasons you won’t like to admit.

You descend from the rusty ladder that feels like it will give out at any moment. After putting it away, you quickly pick up the purse on your bed and follow your mother waiting outside.

Sunday mass visits are inevitable, you think. You know you’d rather be doing anything else than be here, but the only thing that keeps your attention going is the son of the priest who sits at the very front, keeping his hands clasped together as he listens to his father’s words.

As he goes up to drink the wine, you stare. As he kneels and prays, you stare. When he turns his head, when he does anything at all, you notice that your gaze always lands on him.

This would happen consistently for a few more Sundays before you became aware of the glances he’d give towards you. You would plead with your mother to sit nearer to the front, but she complains about wanting to stay at her regular spot.

Days pass, and you would help your mother with the gardens. As the scorching sun booms over your skin, sweat gleams. Your dress would stick and make you sigh in annoyance. As you wipe the wetness forming on your face, you notice him washing his father’s old pick-up truck.

You stand up slowly, watching his movements. He’s wearing a white tank top, with those light-washed jeans. He’s so pretty doing the most mundane things.

You bite your lip and continue picking at the weeds from the ground. Unable to push down your urges, you sneak glances at him every so often. His shirt is getting all wet with sweat, and his skin is glowing. The strands of his hair stick to his forehead.

Before he’s able to catch you gawking, the corner of your lips tugs and forms a small smile as you look away.

Weeks pass now, and you don’t see him sit at the very front of the church anymore. He inches closer to you, almost sending you a message that you hope to reciprocate correctly.

“Peace be with you,” a voice is heard behind you this time. You quickly look back to see him standing behind you. He lets out a small smile with his Bambi-looking eyes and beckons you to shake the hand he has out in front. You awkwardly smile back and connect your hand with his.

You quickly rack your brain to remember the common phrase you mutter every Sunday, failing to match the enthusiasm with the other person on the receiving end. However, this time, you say it truly.

“And also with you,” you breathe out, letting the feeling of his skin linger before letting go a few seconds later than it typically should.

It’s a funny thing. Pretending to be strangers.

In reality, you’d sit with him on the grass as he shields himself away from the sun, using the shade that the tall trees offer. You, on the other end, embrace the sun. You love the warmth it gives you considering you feel cold most days.

“Do you have a favorite book?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Everything that I read is my favorite.”

“So, if you read a book about something silly as…I don’t know…flying pigs? It would be your favorite?”

You laugh as you shake your head at his ridiculousness. “Sure, it could be. I love the act of reading, no matter what the content is.”

He keeps staring at you with those eyes. “Heeseung, stop it,” you’d whisper, in which the smile on his face widens.

“Stop what? Admiring your looks?”

You nod. “There’s nothing to admire anymore.”

Heeseung shakes his head in response. “No such thing. Never when it comes to you.”

Silence erupts for a couple of minutes as he then stares out at the open field you’re both lying in, his book merely abandoned.

Since you’ve met Heeseung for the first time, you were quick to note that he didn’t seem to like opening up. He had his walls terribly high, and if you ever dared to attempt to climb over, he would push you off. His cold demeanor never caused you to look the other way, and maybe that’s where you went wrong.

He would lay with you under the stars on some breezy nights, and when you think you’ve gotten a moment to witness his vulnerability, it would never actually come to fruition. You’d comb through his hair softly as a mother to her child, letting them weep into your arms for the pain that they cannot put into words, yet Heeseung was the opposite. Tears would never shed, but you can still feel the sadness radiate off of his body.

You wonder why you’d put yourself in a position where you can tell he’s the one to hurt you. Break you. Tear off the limbs wrapped around his figure because he’s decided that he no longer wants you near him.

That would never happen even if that was your worst fear.

He breathed life into you. He gave you something to look forward to every time you open your eyes and when you close them. His smile sends electric waves and they travel everywhere inside of your body, making it impossible to feel anything but overwhelming admiration for him.

Maybe it was the neglect you had faced as a young child. Maybe it was the lack of emotional support and the lack of hugs that you’d get that caused you to become so dependent on anything that provided you with something other than emptiness. His hugs felt like a home you were supposed to belong in. Everything about him was calling out for you and you accepted it without ever realizing if the devil was looming behind him.

But what did that matter? It didn’t matter if he had troubles of his own, because you’d comfort him every single time. You didn’t care about the struggles behind closed doors, or even the fact that he was running away from someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally as a parent.

You didn’t care about the pain he would cause to many others, because you’ve decided that as long as it was not you, and as long as you kept receiving the love he offered, everything he did was just to save himself from wounds that never fully healed.

You’re delusional, you know? He tells you that all of the time, but you didn’t consider it. He’s more self-aware than you are, and he was not someone you should be around, as everyone in society says.

But―he loves you. He chose you. Who cares, then? Being heard, and being loved, felt so much better than having to deal with the logistics of everything else.

And maybe, that too, was where you went wrong.

As you walk into the church with your mother on a windy Sunday morning, you’re met with the quietness of the place of worship. Sounds of coughing from the elders and footsteps echo and bounce around the walls.

“Where’s Father Lee?” You’d ask your mother softly as you take your seat. She places a hand on top of yours. “He’s gone, I’m afraid,” she whispers in your ear, and you respond with a weak oh as you look forward at the very altar he would show up to.

You’d know the reason.

As you see Heeseung enter, he heads to the very front, as usual. He doesn’t give you any glances this time. For the rest of the hour, you listen to a different man who speaks much louder than Father Lee.

When you see Heeseung again, you don’t say anything to him. “Why do you associate yourself with me?” He would ask countless times, and you’re well aware of the truth, but sometimes you have your moments of reconsideration of said truth.

“I ask myself the same question every day, Hee,” you say, not caring that the rain pours heavily on the both of you.

“I hurt you, you know? You shouldn’t talk to me ever again. I’m not a good person,” he weakly confesses.

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing this? I know what I’ve done, but you’re haunting me and no matter what I do, I can’t let go of you.”

Heeseung shakes his head furiously. “Don’t say it’s because you love me, I don’t deserve your love.”

“You don’t,” you whisper back, “but for some reason, my heart wants you.”

Heeseung begins to sob. He cannot tell if the wetness of his cheeks is from the rain, his tears, or both.

“Why are you crying? Shouldn’t you be happy? You got what you wanted,” you say, referencing the death of his father.

“Sure, I did. But I made a grand mistake,“ he replies carefully as if everything is glass and would shatter at any second.

He continues. “My mistake was hurting you.”

“You cannot dwell on it any longer. If I hated you for it, you wouldn’t be seeing me right now.”

He nods before he goes in to hug you. You accept because although you know he probably doesn’t deserve a hug for his actions, he deserves one for the amount of pain he had suffered, for so long. You tell yourself that, anyway.

“Forgive me, will you? Forgive me. I am so sorry,” he whines into your neck. You cannot stand to listen to his cries anymore.

“I forgive you, Hee. I do.”

With that, he hugs you tighter.

Sometimes, Heeseung would wake up with cold sweats. He would be panting in the dark of his room, feeling completely disconnected from reality. Your voice would reassure him from the other side, sitting on his chair. “Another nightmare?”

He’d swallow hard. “Yes.”

“He cannot bother you any longer, Hee. Go back to sleep.”

As if you’re somehow his angel, spirit guide, or if you’re just haunting him like a troubled ghost, he trusts you. He falls back onto the pillow, closing his eyes, hoping that you’d save him from his father.

In the morning, he would throw on whatever he saw lying on the floor, and he would make his way to the graveyard. He had never attended his father’s funeral, and he wouldn’t visit his gravestone either. He’d rather die than do so.

As he treads along, your mother would go up to him with a worried expression, and he understands what’s about to happen.

“Dear, how are you? How have you been?” She’d ask, and he would flash a fake smile, telling her that he was doing okay. He doesn’t feel like scaring your mother more than she already should be.

“Very well. Have you seen Y/N?” She fiddles with the sides of her sweater in an attempt to push down the anxiety that kept creeping back up.

Heeseung shook his head. “I’m really sorry, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Sometimes lying is better than facing the truth, Heeseung thinks.

He knows that you’re one of a kind, very much so. You’ve given him the hope that leaves you wanting to do everything you couldn’t do before. He had you by his side, and although he couldn’t express it as well as he wanted to, you stayed regardless. He knew that you could feel the love that surrounds you every time you’re with him, and it brought him immense joy.

It’s all too bad that he messed up, though. He really was progressing well. He really was getting better. At least he thinks that, anyway.

After saying his goodbyes to your anxious mother, he decides to sit on the edge of a step leading to the hundreds of gravestones he’d rather not see. He isn’t sure why he’s there, but he knows he will have to visit again.

And so, he returns a week later to where your burial is taking place. He sees your mother breaking apart in the arms of another, the clouds gloomy and colorless. The dead grass dances softly through the blows of the wind, every day becoming more of a dread.

Mourning the loss of you is one thing, but being haunted by you is another. He sits in the same spot he would always during mass, but this time, he listens to your mother’s heartfelt message, with a picture of your cheery smile, serving as evidence of your existence.

He stares at that picture of you. He takes in your once lively features. He takes it all. Through all of this, though, he sees you still the same.

Beautiful.

Now, whenever he returns to the graveyard, it’s never to mourn his father but to mourn you. You’re already there by the time he comes, and he wishes for this one moment where he doesn’t have to feel because the guilt of his greed sends him a simple hello from afar.

“You don’t have to come here. You can see me at any time,” you mention, staring down at the bouquet resting in front of your stone.

“I know, but this is where you lay. This is all that I have to know that you weren’t just a figment of my imagination.”

You swallow the saliva down your throat as you walk away. “Then let’s go back to my attic.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “I don’t want to go back to the place that I…” Heeseung’s words die out. “Your mother wouldn’t let me in, anyway.”

“It’s the only place where I could still feel remnants of myself. Your scent still lingers there, too. Mine does. Everything is the same up there, not here. Where I’m standing doesn’t mean anything to me,” you explain.

Heeseung turns around to look at you.

“When will you stop haunting me?” He asks, his voice breaking a little.

You look right back at him. “I’m not haunting you. Stop calling it that.”

“But you are, how am I still seeing you? I know I’ve made a mistake, but it was complicated, my urge was too strong. I hated the fact that I couldn’t have you the way I wanted.”

“So you decide to kill me instead?”

“It made sense at the moment,” Heeseung cries, “you were unattainable and throughout my whole fucking life, I couldn’t ever attain anything. I couldn’t keep my dignity, I couldn’t keep parts of myself that made me who I am. I was always let down, and I was so, so tired of being let down. I was so tired of not having what I wanted,” he argues, tears beginning to fall down his face. He clutches his heart as if he wanted to rip it out and hand it to you.

You stared at him as he knelt on the grass. “Everything about you, I envied. I adored you but hated you at the same time. You were poison to me but I kept consuming you anyway. I let you see myself for who I am, and I fucking hate myself.”

The wind became harsh.

“You were good to me, and I couldn’t allow it. I thought I was protecting myself. You witnessed the horrific stuff I’ve done, and you just looked the other way. You. You didn’t, I don’t know, you didn’t call me disgusting or that of a monster. You just, I guess you just let me do whatever and you loved me all the same. I’ve never understood that, and I don’t think I could, because I didn’t deserve you.”

The fear and the vulnerability were too much for him to handle, and it was your fault for crossing his path. It was your fault for treating him the way he should’ve been treated since the moment he was born into this world.

To be loved is to be heard.

And even though as you walk in front of him, or back at the attic where you’ve seen your lifeless body lay, he makes you feel something you tried so hard to find.

You wipe the tears from his face and you lean in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“You saved me,” you whispered to him.

“You saved me, too.”

A long, relieved sigh releases out of you and you begin to close your eyes as you feel him breathing and the thumping of his heart beating. That was enough for you, even if truthfully, he did the complete opposite of being a savior.

You wanted to be loved more than you wanted to be alive.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Always Him : Chapter 13

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : swearing, drinking, smoking weed, argument, mentions of sex, making out, brief mention of bullying

          “I like this.” Y/n smiled. Hongjoong grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, smiling at her when she started swinging their arms back and forth. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning in a way that makes him desire more. He loves her, he knows he does, he’s said it to her, but he can tell by the hesitation in her actions that she doesn’t believe him.

            Why would she? He confuses her. Pulling her into his arms, brushing hair out of her face, telling her she’s beautiful. Kissing up and down her body whenever they’re in bed together. It feels like it’s more than sex. But then he tells everyone they’re just friends. Tells Seonghwa she’s nothing to him.

            “I’m sorry it took me so long to take you on a date.” He told her softly. “Being with you is what I want, you know that right?” She nodded.

            “I know. I’m patiently waiting for you.” How did he get so lucky with her? He thanks the universe for giving her to him. For allowing her to love him so purely. “Please don’t take too long.” They stopped walking, Hongjoong letting go of her hand so he could hold her face in his hands.

            “I won’t. But remember no matter what, I’ll always be yours.” He gave her a quick kiss before letting of her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

            “I’m always yours too.”

~

            Her friendship means the world to me. The words echoed in her mind. Clawing at her brain, digging out every insecurity. They taunted her, laughed in her face. Made fun of her for thinking her and Hongjoong were getting somewhere with their relationship. “Should we go home? When I bought you new fishnets, I bought a few other things I’d love to see you in.” He held her from behind, running his fingers up and down her arm, whispering the words in her ear.

            “Let go of me.” She said softly, blinking back her tears. Hongjoong did as told, walking to stand in front of her, seeing her wipe away a tear that had rolled down her cheek.

            “Hey, hey, look at me. What happened?” He reached out for her, but she stepped away from him. “Did I fuck up again?”

            “Why are you so adamant on everyone knowing we’re just friends? Why can’t you just admit there’s something more?” He glanced down to the phone in her hand, twitter pulled up, his post specifically.

            “You know that you’re more than a friend to me, so why doesn’t it matter if everyone else thinks otherwise?” He raised his voice, tired of having this conversation every other day. Tired of having to apologize for the same thing over and over. But he wouldn’t change it if it meant she stayed.

            “Because I look like a fool! Like I’m chasing someone that doesn’t want me. Do you know what that feels like? What it’s like to have people stare at you with judgmental eyes, laughing at you behind your back?” He was silent for a moment, processing her words, watching more tears well up until she couldn’t hold them back anymore.

            “Why didn’t you tell me people were bullying you?” He tried to step towards her again, but she stepped back, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this tonight.

            “Would it have made a difference? Would you stop denying us?” Silence. And that was all she needed to hear to know that nothing would have changed. “If you’re embarrassed, just say that. If you don’t love me, stop leading me on. We either go all in, or we go back to being friends.”

            “Y/n I told you to just give me time! You told me you’d wait.”

            “Just because I said I’d wait doesn’t mean I’d put up with this same bullshit.” He called after her as she walked away, but he didn’t try to stop her. She needs space, needs to be away from him. So he walks home alone, leaving her to walk the streets alone.

~

            San forever a life saver for her. Ever since Wooyoung introduced them, San has been her life saver. Someone she can turn to for help when she feels like she’s suffocating.

            “Bubs.” He smiled at her as he took the seat next to her. She immediately clung to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, and resting her head on his shoulder. “Did you want to talk about it?” He brushed the hair out of her face, noticing the obvious redness around her eyes. Anger and worry bubbled up inside of him. How could Hongjoong make her cry?

            “Can you just help me forget?” He nodded, ordering a couple more bottle of soju, and promising her that he’ll never leave her, no matter what.

            It was a promise she couldn’t believe. It’s the promise Jeongin made to her when they were still kids playing in the playground. Linking their pinkies together and vowing to never let harm come her way.

            For years he kept that promise, being by her side, protecting her from everything and everyone. When she met Kayla and Mae in high school, Jeongin was worried. Worried they would one day hurt her, leave her crying like friends in the past. But they proved him wrong over and over.

            It was Kayla that helped him realize his feelings for Y/n were more than platonic. And it was Mae that helped him confess. Over the years, I fell in love with you.

            But even though his love started out innocent, it turned out toxic. And that very promise he made to her turned out to be their downfall. We promised to be by each other’s side no matter what!

            San wasn’t Jeongin though. San was different. San was kind and caring and he loved her so much. He was gentle with her. His voice was always soft. He was comfort in human form. And she would thank Wooyoung forever for introducing them if she could.

~

            “Do you have anymore weed? I could really go for some right now.” Two bottles of soju later, both Y/n and San were drunk. Words slurring together, stumbling as they walked around, enjoying the nice weather outside.

            “I always have some.” San chuckled, pulling out a small box from his pocket, and handing her a joint, pulling one out for himself. He pulled a lighter out from another pocket, stepping closer to her, inches away, and lit the joint for her.

            She studied his face as he did. Taking in his sharp features. His skin looked so soft, so smooth. And his lips. She stared at them as he lit her joint, her heart picking up pace. She had a sudden urge to kiss him. Wanted to feel his lips on hers. Wanted to feel his hands roam her body and hers did the same to his.

            But then he stepped away, lighting his own joint. She couldn’t look away from him though. Studying his entire body, taking in every part, every curve, every muscle. “Like what you see?” San joked, but she just nodded as she took another puff.

            She held the smoke in her mouth as she stepped closer to him, lightly grabbing his chin with her thumb and pointer fingers, his mouth opening just enough for her to blow the smoke inside. And then she kissed him.

            She kissed him in a way she’s never kissed anyone before. With feverish hunger, with desire. A part of her expected him to pull away, but he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They pulled away for only a few seconds, putting out their joints, and pulling each other back in.

            San had never felt this way before. The way his heart swelled, the way she fit so perfectly within his arms, it felt like they were soulmates. Like they were meant to be together. He’s surprised he never realized it before, that he was in love with her, but it all makes sense to him now.

            The need to be with her. Wanting to protect her, wanting to see her happy. He loved when she needed him, loved when she would reach out to him, wanting to spend time just the two of them.

            He thought back to the night of the club, seeing her kiss Yeosang. He knew now it was jealousy that compelled him to get everyone back home. Jealousy that made him get so high when he was home, trying to forget that she was sleeping with someone that wasn’t him.

            San was in love with her, and if this kiss was anything to go by, she was in love with him too. And when she finally pulled away, her arms still wrapped around his neck, his around her waist, he knew. This was it for him. She was the one.

            “We should get back before Seonghwa grounds us like Yunho does with Mingi.” She giggled. And he loved the sound. Could listen to it for the rest of his life.

            “I want to stay like this with you for a little while longer.” He whispered, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek, pressing his lips to hers in a small peck.

            “I never said this had to end, Sannie. We could always continue this back home.” She’s not sure what came over her. Why she said those words knowing damn well Hongjoong is there, waiting for her. The anger he will exude if he saw her and San like this, it turned her on. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet. So she’ll settle for the next best thing.

            Fucking San.

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @lethallyprotected @choisoorin @berryblog @anyamaris @nebulousbookshelf @junebug032 @jaydebow @halesandy @okkkcausewhet @dandycharmer @aestheticsluut @the-anarchist-public @kpoprhia @hanschimpmunk @itsmeeekai @grayscorner @weird-bookworm @minhoino @ibedreaminghighupinthesky @kpop-in-new-albion @felixmainacc @yunstarz

[eddiemylove666]

He Knows....

this is  a repost because the last one had a ton of mistakes

He Knows...

I had a request for this but can’t find it.  

Eddie Munson X Henderson Reader

Summary:  Dustin is oblivious to the hints to his sister’s hidden relationship with Eddie until hes not....

Warnings: little bit of drug use little bit of sexual content

“Y/N! Y/N!”  Dustin yells running down the hallway.  Y/N turns from her locker and her conversation with Gareth and Eddie to see her brother running towards them, Lucas and Mike trailing behind him. Eddie pulling his arm from around her waist hoping Dustin didn’t see.  

“What’s up Dusty?”  Y/N asks as he stops in front her catching his breath.

“I need to borrow your jacket, next period we’re doing some research outside and I didn’t bring one myself” Dustin says leaning against a locker

“Oh sure” she pulls out a jean jacket out of her locker handing it to him

“Thanks” he shrugs it on

“Uh Y/N why does your jacket smell like weed?” Lucas asks scrunching his nose and leaning back a bit

“Oh, I was in the art room with some other students this morning must be from one of them?”    

“Oh yeah sure a random student.  Not because you were with the guy who sells…” Gareth is cut off by Eddie slamming his arm knocking his books out of hands. “What the hell dude?”

“Shit dude, might want to be more CAREFUL next time” Eddie grits out giving him a look

“Hey, we’ve got to go class is meeting on the football field today” Mike says pointing down the hall

“Ok, see you later Y/N” Dustin says following behind Mike and Lucas

“That jacket kind of smells like eddies van” Mike says raising his eyebrows.  Dustin gives him a weird look and a head shake.

---------------------------------------------------------

Later that day at lunch...

  “Hey Eddie, what time were you planning on stopping by later?” Dustin asks the boy sitting at the head of their lunch table

“I’m not sure.  Why?”  Eddie responds shoving a pretzel in his mouth

“Well, I need to go over to Mike's for a bit after school to work on a project, might be a couple of hours before we get done.”

“Oh, ok no problem I’ll come by later tonight then” Eddie tells him before the conversation turns to Hellfire club stuff.

Later after lunch Eddie corners Y/N against the wall before she goes int her classroom

“Hey what are you doing?” she asks looking around

“The little shrimp is already in his class, don’t worry” Eddie says running a hand through her hair

“Oh ok” she relaxes against the wall and into his touch

“So, Dustin has informed me he will gone for a few hours after school at Mike’s so I was thinking I could come over while he’s gone, and we could have some alone time”

“Hhmmm and what do you want to do in that alone time?” she asks running a hand down his arm

“Hhmmm I’ve kind of had my eye on those new hair products you got”

“Oh yeah?  I think your just trying to get me to wash your hair again” she laughs

“I will never turn down a shower with you.  We can always start there” he leans in kissing her lips

“Just come straight over to mine after school, my mom will be gone and I'll drop Mike and Dustin off on my way.” She tells him before heading into the classroom.

Later that afternoon they lay on Y/N’s bed, most of their clothes discarded on the floor leaving Eddie in his boxers and Y/N in a pair of sleep shorts, hair wet from their shower. Y/N laying on her back legs around his waist hand in his hair, making out.  Both moaning and humming into their kisses. So wrapped up in each other and the radio playing in the background they didn’t hear the front door open and were both startled when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Y/N.”

“shit” Eddie whispers sitting up on the bed

“Shit shit, here in the closet” she motions towards the doors getting off the bed

“Uh yeah just one sec Dusty.”  She says looking around franticly for her shirt, throwing on the first ones she sees which happens to be Eddie’s Motorhead shirt. She kicks his shoes under her bed on her way to her door

“Hey.  You’re back early” she says a little breathlessly opening her door

“Yeah, we got done much quicker than expected and Nancy was leaving so she gave me a ride home”

“Oh, ok cool. “

“So, I was thinking we could order pizza for dinner since Eddies going to be over later to work on campaign stuff with me”

“Yeah, sounds good” she tells him nervously tugging on the bottom of her shirt

“Hey Eddie has that same shirt! He was wearing it at school today.  Huh funny” Dustin laughs and heads downstairs.  Y/N shuts the door and leans against it and Eddie steps out of her closet laughing.

“Not funny asshole” she smacks him on the shoulder when he gets close enough.

“Hmm where were we?” Eddie wraps his arms around her waist leaning in to kiss her.

“Uh no, Dustin is home now and plus you have to go you’re supposed to be meeting him here in a while.”  Eddie throws his head back with a pout

“Well as much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I’m going to need this” he tugs on his shirt.

“He can’t see you wearing this now.  Be a bit suspicious if you show up in it and I’m no longer wearing it.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do be a bit weird if I show up shirtless” Y/N walks over to her closet pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him.

“Here.  Now out the window and be quiet.” She waves a hand towards the window as he gets dressed. He leaves her with a kiss and a wave before climbing out the window and heading around the block to his van.  A little while later he’s knocking on the front door and Dustin’s answers

“Hey Eddie” Dustin lets him in

“Hey man” Eddie walks in shedding his jacket

“We ordered pizza a bit ago and it should be here soon if you’re hungry” Dustin say turning around to face him

“Hey that’s weird” he says pointing at the shirt Eddie wears “my sister has a shirt just like that and she was just wearing one like you had on at school today”

“Huh that is weird.  So, what do you want to work on first?” Eddie asks trying to change the subject

----------------------------------------

the next morning....

“Go on in Dustin I’m going to wait out here.  I’ve got to meet with a project partner really quick before school starts.”  Y/N tells her brother as they exit her car in the school parking lot

“Are you sure?  Want me to wait with you?”

“NO! it fine shouldn’t be long”  

“Ok well I’ll see you later”

“bye” she waves and waits until he’s around the corner to the building before heading in the opposite direction toward the end of the parking lot where Eddie's van is parked.  Not seeing Eddie in  the driver’s seat as she approaches she slides open the side door finding him sitting in the floor leaning against the driver’s seat, joint in his hand and a smile on his face when he sees her.

“Hey doll, thought you forgot about me” he tells her with that smile she finds absolutely irresistible.

“Blame Dustin.  He wouldn’t hurry up this morning too busy talking to Suzie.” She tells him crawling in the van sliding the door shut behind her.

“hmmm” he hums as she crawls onto his lap and tapping the hand with the joint

“You need to do something with that if you want to make up for lost time”

“don’t want to share?” he asks taking a hit

“No, I think Dustin is catching onto the smell” his reply is cut off by her lips latching onto his after he puts it out.  They make out for a bit before Eddie pulls back with a groan

“Mmm woke up thinking about you this morning.” He says kissing up her neck

“Oh, is this why this is here” she says grinding down on the bulge in his jeans.  He bites down on her neck with a moan

“I think I should definitely stay over at Robin's this weekend” she adds adding air quotes around her statement still rocking her hips

“Oh yes you should.  Or hear me out we can skip out today and head over to your house while your mom is at work and have the whole house and bed to ourselves.” He lets out a whine running his hands up the back of her shirt

“I have a presentation today I can’t miss” she tells him

“fuck” he groans out burying his face in her neck

“But if we're quick we can definitely take care of this “she runs her hand over his arousal

“Serious?” his head snaps up eyes wide

“Yeah serious” she says kneeling up sliding her panties off under her skirt

“Oh, fuck you really are serious!” he says hands flying to his belt and jeans

 Later that day Y/N approaches Dustin and Robin at his locker.

“Hey, Robs” she earns a wave back from the girl “Dust Bunny” she says throwing her arm around her brother in a tight hug swinging him back and forth

“Stop!”  he laughs shrugging her off and turning to face her “what the hell is with you guys today?” he exclaims with a gesture to the red and purple markings on her neck.

“What?” she asks covering them with her hand

“First Robin and Vickie and now you! “He says eyes wide and mouth open.  She glances to the other girl noticing the purpling mark under her jaw. “And Eddie!  He had hickeys on his neck, shoulder and even his chest in gym this morning.

“His chest?!” Robin says looking wide eyed in Y/Ns direction. Y/N nudges her arm giving her a look. “Wonder how those got there huh Y/N?” Robin asks nudging her arm back

“What?” Dustin asks

“Nothing nothing oh look at that got to get to class” Robin says before turning and disappearing down the hall

“ Y/N what did she mean by that?” Dustin asks hands on his hips looking an awful lot like Steve when he’s in mom mode. A look on his face that says he thinks he knows exactly what she meant by it

“don’t worry about it she was just being bumbling mumbling Robin you know how she is” Y/N says slowly walking away backwards

“Wait you didn’t have those this morning and I saw you and Eddie walk into school this morning together!” Dustin shouts at her down the hall

“What? Sorry can’t hear you.  got to get to class.” She tells him before turning into her classroom. Dustin doesn’t question her on it the rest of the day even when they get home, so she assumes he hadn’t connected the dots like she previously thought.  But he had and he approaches Eddie at the table in the cafeteria the next day at lunch

“So, Y/n told me what was going on between you two” he says as he sists down in hi seat

“Shit! She did?!”

“Yeah…” Dustin says a little in shock that he was right. He had hope he was misreading the situation yesterday

“Listen man it’s not…. like I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  Its not just a passing fling.  There are real feeling there la lot strong feeling.” Dustin sits there mouth open shock all over his face at his dungeon master’s confession.  “We wanted to tell you but at first it was just new, and we were adjusting to it ourselves and then time just slipped away and here wea re.  but I’m glad you know now.”  Eddie finishes patting him on the shoulder.

“How…how long?” Dustin asks not seeing Y/N approaching from behind him

“Four months” Eddie tells him smiling in her direction

“Four Months?!  You’ve been seeing my sister for four months behind my back?”

“You told him?!” Y/N exclaims stopping next to Eddie

“What? He said you told him “Eddie says looking at Dustin

“I did not!” she turns her head towards her brother “what the hell Dustin?”

“I just… after yesterday I suspected, and you know just though I wanted to know” he rambles  

“I can’t believe you would pull this” she says

“I can’t believe you guys hid your relationship from me for four months” he responds

“Ok so we both did dumb things.  But I’m glad it’s out in the open now” she says leaning against Eddie and sliding her hand on his back

“Fucking finally” Eddie says pulling her down into his lap wrapping his arms around her waist kissing her.

“Ew you guys aren’t going to be one of those couple now, are you?” dustin asks in disgust

“Can’t help it” Eddie says laughing and kissing her on the cheek

[envihellbender]

Legion polycule (maybe with some dubcon)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Characters: Legion (Frank Morrison, Susie Lavoie, Julie Kostenko, Joey)

Content: nsft (characters are written as 18+), dubcon

Summary: How the Legion ended up dating each other.

—

Frank and Julie

Frank and Julie get together first, they skip classes, drive around, get fast food, listen to music, and watch movies. They start fires in an abandoned factory on the side of town, on their third date Julie burns Frank’s forearm with his lighter and he does the same to her. The smiling blisters are like promise rings, they both refuse to take anything for the pain or cover them up. Like most their age they spend hours making out and fooling around in old factories or Frank’s bedroom. They go to the cinema, they watch horror movies and laughing all the way through, they watch boring movies making out all the way through. Their hands wander, Frank groping Julie’s chest as her hands touch his ass and thighs. Sometimes Frank fingers Julie and teases her for how she’s biting her lip until it bleeds trying not to be loud. Julie steals Frank’s clothes, he makes her mix tapes filled with music from Alice in Chains, White Zombie, Suicidal Tendencies, Slayer, and Deftones to make a few. Frank takes Julie to the woods to tell her about cryptids, murderers, conspiracy theories, and urban legends. She hangs onto his every word. Julie in return talks about her favourite bands and the props her and Susie are making for the drama department.

They didn’t lose their virginity to each other, and they don’t pretend for a minute that they did. The first time is when Frank sneaks into Julie’s room after her parents have gone to sleep. Julie bites into her pillow as Frank fingers her and sucks in her clitoris. He kisses and nips at her thighs, when her legs are spasming and she’s muffling her screams with the pillow he bites onto her thigh hard. He tugs on the skin and shakes his head like a dog until he tastes blood. After he’s done, she decides to boss him around a little as a thank you. He jerks off whilst she talks to him, roleplaying that he’s her son who he raped. He calls her Mama as he coats his hand with his own cum. When her mom knocks on the door first thing in the morning he hides in the wardrobe.

Susie and Julie

Everyone knows Susie has a crush on Julie, and it’s made even clearer when Frank is on the scene. She glares when they kiss and gives Frank the cold shoulder as much as she can. She carries around a notebook filled with drawings of comics and Julie. During one of their hangouts Frank brings some weed, Julie makes a point of sitting with Susie instead of Frank and they start talking like they used to. Susie doesn’t like that Julie smokes now, and she’s scared to do drugs, but she’s exhilarated when Julie gives her blowback from her joint and pulls her up to sit in her lap. Their eyes meet, and they kiss deeply causing Joey to stare in alarm, gaze shifting between the two of them and Frank.

“Hot. We can share her if you want, Suze,” Frank shrugs with an amused smile as Susie looks like she’s about to have a panic attack.

“Wh- we can?” Susie asks quietly like she daren’t believe it for a moment.

“We’re all we’ve got. We’ve got a bond stronger than blood. That includes you and Julie.” Frank goes back to talking to Joey about video games as if nothing happened. Susie and Julie keep kissing for the rest of the night. They go for a walk into the woods at some point, Julie teases Susie for keeping it quiet for so long, and in return she’s mortified that Julie always knew. Susie asks why Julie didn’t make a move sooner, and all she does is shrugs and says she knew Susie wasn’t ready. Julie asks if she can take Susie on a date, introduce her to her parents, treat her like a proper girlfriend. The word makes Susie’s cheeks burn red as a smile breaks out across her face.

The first time they have sex is in Julie’s house after dinner with her parents. They don’t like that Julie has a trans girlfriend with magenta hair, but they admit it’s better than the boy she’s been hanging out with that the teachers have raised concerns about. Susie is nervous and inexperienced regarding sexual contact so they take it slow, she isn’t sure what she wants. She wanted Julie to bounce on her cock and fuck her with a strap on, but the idea makes her tense up with dysphoria. Julie tells her how Frank doesn’t like his breasts and cunt being touched so she talks to him whilst he jerks off. They try that at first, and Susie is happy. Julie shows her how to finger and eat her out. They spend hours exploring each other and very little time sleeping.

After they’ve been together for a while, Frank says he’s always wanted to see two girls fuck. Julie is on board and whilst Susie is nervous the way Julie holds her close, the way Frank puts his arm around both of them, they way they are both speaking so close to her ear, she finds it hard to say no. Susie insists she doesn’t like men, but all Julie says is that Frank won’t get involved, not really. If they’re going to be the Legion, they have to share everything anyway, right? Frank watches as Susie and Julie fuck, Susie is uncertain and has to be pushed. When she is about to orgasm, Julie starts fingering her causing Susie to yelp and wince, Frank’s hand around is wrapped Susie’s cock as Julie does so, he wraps an arm around Susie’s shoulders and tells her how beautiful she looks.

Joey and Frank

The stolen television was the latest addition to their lodge and the only light Joey and Frank have. Susie and Julie have gone to bed (not to sleep of course, Frank and Joey turn up the television on occasion to drown out the noise.) Joey is showing Frank Re-Animator, one of the many films he can’t believe Frank hasn’t seen. Around the halfway point the joint and beer start to get to Frank’s head and he rests his head on Joey’s lap. The fact he has a crush on Frank is about as obvious as Susie’s infatuation with Julie, but somehow Joey is convinced he’s being subtle. Joey has dated a girl or two, but nothing ever stuck. He never really wanted to be around them much, something he didn’t understand until he looked at Frank’s head in his lap. His tangled black hair spreading across his thigh, his thick eyelashes, and the way his teeth pressed into his bottom lip… Frank might have scared Joey, he scared everyone except for Julie, but right now he looked so sweet and vulnerable. Joey found his hand somehow resting on Frank’s waist, one arm keeping him close.

Towards the end of the movie, Frank gets on his knees and looks up at Joey with a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“Wh- what’re you doing?” Joey asks, thick black eyebrows furrowed in nervous confusion.

“I wanna suck you off.” Before Joey could react Frank hand had begun gently grabbing his cock with his thumb tracing the side of the hardening bulge in his jeans. Joey shuffled and pulled down his jeans, feeling embarrassed as Frank gave a fond little grin at Joey’s Spider-Man boxer shorts.

“If I’d have known I’d have worn-”

“Don’t be stupid, I like it,” Frank interrupted. He kissed the tip of Joey’s cock, continuing to worship it with his tongue and lips until it grew bigger. When it fills out completely, Frank rolls his lips over the head whilst Joey’s finger’s tangle up within Frank’s hair. Joey moans as he feels Frank’s wet, warm mouth, Joey forces himself not to grind into Frank’s face. He moans and gasps, and when Frank’s hands crawl round grope Joey’s thighs and arse Joey begins losing control, he thrusts into Frank’s mouth until his cum covers Frank’s tongue, he happily drinks it down and licks Joey’s head clean afterwords. He looks up with a submissive, vulnerable gaze, until Joey drags him up into his lap wrapping his arms around his skinny body.

Joey, Frank, and Julie

“So, the three of us, huh?” Joey asked awkwardly, he had one arm around Frank’s waist who in turn had one around Joey’s torso whilst Frank held Julie with his other arm.

“I mean, I’m just gonna watch, dude,” Julie shrugged. The smile on her painted lips and arch in one of her over plucked eyebrows told him she thought he was being stupid. He tried not to let it get to him. Frank squeezed Joey with one arm and nuzzled his cheek.

“I’ll make sure you have fun, babe. Come on, for me?” Frank purred, the smile he had on his lips that had been scabbed over from when he bit them so often was irresistible to Joey. All he could do was nod and edge away from Julie towards Frank. They were the Legion, right? They were one. Together. It was okay. They had a bond so tight their souls were entwined until they were indistinguishable from each other. That was what Joey kept telling himself anyway.

It started small, Julie touched herself whilst Frank sucked Joey’s cock, she pulled on Frank’s hair as he did. Julie called Frank her little slut, her tranny pet, her faggot. She dug her nails into Frank’s back, scratching as hard as she could until Frank gasped and said let warm blood beneath her fingers. She smeared the droplets on Frank’s cheek making him choke a little on Joey’s cock. All Joey did was throw a glance towards Frank whilst he was distracted by the spectacular blowout he was receiving. Frank gave a little wink and grin. He kissed the top of Joey’s cock and circled his piss slit with his tongue. As he did, Julie pulled down Frank’s jeans and boxer shorts, she began fingering his cunt asking him if he wanted to be spitroasted. Frank let out a small whine and tensed.

Joey said they were going too far, he could see the resistance in Frank’s body and face. He gently pushed Frank off of him, he was a little delirious desperate to have Joey in his mouth again. He asked if he wanted Julie to fuck him, Frank shrugged a little embarassed, maybe shook his head a little. Julie stroked his hair and said Mama wanted to fill his pretty boycunt, was he going to disappoint her? Frank shook his head then insisted he wanted to. Joey gave in as Frank continued, groaning and whining as Julie began to finger him, spreading him open with one digit at a time.

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 05

05 - Team Building Exercises

summary/masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3

word count: 3.7k

cw: alcohol, vomiting, smoking (weed), sexual topics??, noah being melodramatic, jealous & protective nicholas if you squint, slow burn if you haven't figured that out yet sorry lol, 18+ MDNI

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc x noah sebastian

a/n: don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

NICHOLAS

Morning light shocks me out of my sleep and I instantly shield my eyes with my forearm. “Fuck.” I mumble, rubbing my eyes with my rough palms. My body goes rigid once I realize that I’m not home, and when I feel another person resting on me, I’m completely frozen.

I blink as my eyes adjust to the light while I look around not recognizing where I am. For a brief moment, I try to remember if we had gone out last night and if I went home with someone. My suspicions are confirmed when I precariously peer down at the brunette nestled into my side with an arm around me.

My memory is a fuzzy blur of rain, snacks and fear. It comes back to me in flashes: running inside from the storm, soaked clothes, cheese doodles and… Vallie. Then it all pours in at once. The first thing I remember clearly is talking on her couch for what seemed like hours before the movie. It feels like it’s the first real conversation I’ve had with anyone in so long. It’s refreshing. I never really talk much, mainly because people don’t tend to listen. But Vallie didn’t make me feel like that, she was fully present and engaged in anything I said. It’s not much but letting me finish my sentences or asking genuine questions is more space that most allow me to take.  

My eyes go wide when I process the reality of what happened – or at least what the guys would think happened.

Both relief and terror flood my chest – I’m relieved I hadn’t gone home with anyone else, but there’s an alarm that comes with that exact relief. Yesterday didn’t go at all how I imagined. My body felt like lightning bolts were shooting through my bones – it was a freezing, paralyzing heat. Last night I could’ve sworn my fingertips burned any time I was near her. I shake the paranoia from my head; it must’ve just been the stormy ambiance that fueled the buzzing across my skin any time she looked at me.

With extreme stealth, I slide out from under her, even rolling the extra blanket into a makeshift replica of my body. “Fuck.” I mutter under my breath again as I sleepily searched for my phone, I haven’t checked it at all since we escaped the rain. When I find it face down on the glass coffee table, I hesitate to pick it up, already knowing what I would find. The fear feels oddly similar to when you miss a call from a parent. Anxiety courses through me as I briefly scroll through my stacked messages.

Group chat:

Jolly: Are you stuck in traffic? Jolly: Did you drop her off yet ? Folio: Dude where the fuck are you Jolly: Are you okay? It’s pouring Folio: Are you alive lol Folio: No seriously where are you Jolly: Why does your location say you’re at some house in Beverly Hills? Jolly: Are you still with her? Folio: We’re gonna come get you if you don’t answer lmao Folio: jk Folio: Nick for real

Jolly – Separate:

Tell me you’re not dead But more importantly Please tell me you did not sleep with our new manager

Not a single one from Noah

I glance over at Vallie to check if she’s still asleep. She lets out small sleeping noises with long brunette strands shading over her face and nuzzles further onto the blanket. She looks so peaceful, and it makes me maybe it had been a while since she’s slept next to someone too. Truthfully last night was the best sleep I’d gotten in a long time, especially between touring and traveling. I barely sleep and the only time I do sleep is in the rarities of getting hotels with plush beds. The best sleep I ever get is always next to someone else. When we were younger, Noah and I would sleep next to each other often. Especially after Noah’s difficult breakup, he’d always ask me to sleep next to him, even just to ward off night terrors. Since we’ve been friends for so long, that sort of intimacy feels normal. We only had each other for so long. You really let yourself be vulnerable with someone when they’re all you got.

I already know the situation with Vallie is going to be an uphill battle with the band, but Noah is the one I’m dreading the most. I understand his frustration but my god he’s acting like a goddamn child. I hope this party will be a way to show them that she’s not the overly corporate monster they think she is.

Quickly but quietly, I tip-toe to the kitchen to read the messages and formulate cohesive responses.

Group chat – Me:

“Yeah, I’m good.”

I look at the time, it’s later than I thought. “See you at rehearsal.”

When I go to reply to Jolly, I pause, “No, it’s fine. I’ll explain later. See you at rehearsal.”

I scramble around her kitchen til I find a notepad and a pen,

“Off to rehearsal Thanks for the safety from the rain Will talk to the guys about this weekend! -N :)”

When I step into our rehearsal studio, the energy immediately shifts. I heard them joking and laughing before I came in but now, they were dead silent. “Hey guys.” I say timidly as I make my way over to my guitar. They track me and I can tell they were dissecting me – my demeanor, my disheveled appearance, the day-old outfit. All which doesn’t exactly reinforce my innocence. “What’s up?” I ask as if nothing happened. Noah burns holes into me with his glare but uttered nothing. To say he was unhappy would be an understatement, he seems furious.

Jolly clears his throat to break up the silence. “Let’s just start, shall we?”

-

There’s tension throughout the entire session. We were fucking up on the same songs, Jolly and I were missing cords, Nick was missing beats and Noah was forgetting lyrics. We haven’t had rehearsals like this in a long time.

Finally, we were wrapping up and they were all busy organizing their areas.

“So, um,” I clear my throat nervously, “I suggested to Vallie that we should have a get together or…something, to kinda get to know each other?” I practically wince and prepare for impact.

“Are you fucking serious?” Snaps Noah while the other two fade into the background. “You fuck our manager and now you’re all buddy buddy?”

I sigh at the accusation I’ve anticipated all day, “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Then what did you do? Since you never fucking came home.” He questions and steps towards me. The space between us feels enclosed, foreign and unnecessarily extreme.

I furrow my brows in offense, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” I shoot back, “It was raining too hard for me to drive, so I just crashed on her couch. That’s it. Calm down.”

He gets even closer to me, practically in my face. “You’re sleeping with the enemy and you want me to calm down?”

“Whoa, first of all, back the fuck up.” I step forward matching his intensity. “Second of all, stop being so fucking dramatic. She’s not our ‘enemy’, she’s just a fucking manager. She wants to help us.” I narrow my eyes at him, “And for the 700th time, I didn’t fucking sleep with her.”

“Okay so you want to sleep with her.” He stated like a fact.

My jaw nearly drops that he would , “No, I don’t Noah.” I close the gap between us as aggravation flowed through my veins. “Do you?”

I swear I can see fire behind his eyes and steam seep out of his ears. He balls up his fists at his sides, clearly trying to restrain himself. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him that angry before, at least not over something so trivial. He says nothing then he turns and storms off, which seems to be becoming a new hobby of his.

The room is silent for a bit before Nick perks up with an over-enthusiastic smile, “I think a party would be great!”

The four of us, alcohol, and our manager? What could possibly go wrong,

Saturday finally comes after an excruciatingly long week of going back and forth with the other three. I at least got Nick and Jolly here. Noah barely spoke to me the rest of the week and made no promises of coming tonight, in fact it was quite the opposite, he promised not to come. He vowed to stay out all night – doing god knows what – just so he didn’t have to be here for any of the party.

It hadn’t occurred to me just how awkward a four-person party would be, especially when half the party hates the guest of honor. And so, the “party” consisted of Folio and Jolly across the kitchen from me and Vallie. They’re keeping each other company and cracking jokes while smoking a dwindling blunt. I don’t mind the separation much as Vallie and I stand next to each other talking about anything. The more I learn about her, the more I want the guys to know her too. I want to believe what she says is true, that she really does see potential in us.

I know the others don’t exactly feel the same, but we worked so hard for so long to only now start to gain any real traction, I mean… isn’t this what we’ve been working towards this whole time?

The awkward tension is beginning to gnaw at me, so I clear my throat gaining the attention of the small kitchen, “How about we play some sort of game?” I suggest and by the positive reactions in everyone’s faces, it’s evident that they too think it would be a good distraction.

I glance over at Vallie, who has a slightly nervous look to her; her smile is restrained, and her hand is fidgeting around her red solo cup. Her maroon-painted fingertip tracing the rim of her cup and her eyes are locked on some drawer across the kitchen.

“Hey,” I whisper after the guys leave the room and gently reach out to grab her arm. “It’s gonna be fine. They’re gonna like you, I promise.”

She gazes up at me with deep forest green eyes. At first, they are sweet and shy, but they soon flip to defensive. She softly pulls her arm from my grasp and straightens up, “I don’t need your reassurance.”

She makes a sharp pivot on her heels and exits the kitchen on her own then sits at the head of the table with the other two across from her. It occurs to me that every time I’ve been in a room with her, she was different. I have no idea who she really is at all – but she doesn’t know us either. With a deep inhale, I reach for the liquor and pour extra into my plastic cup and I take it with me through the doorway to the dining room.

Halfway through a game of Cards Against Humanity, Vallie was winning. And every time she won, we all took a shot. We were on our 7th and final round. We’re shooting tequila, which I can mostly handle, while the other two… not so much.

“Fuck,” Mumbles Folio behind a scrunched face of disgust at his last shot, “Jesus Val.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Didn’t expect you to be so fucking funny, what the fuck.”

She grins proudly, straightening up in her seat with a subtle victorious dance as she organizes her cards into neat little stacks, using the wooden table to flatten the edges.

They didn’t hold back or put on a show for her, they acted exactly the same as if it was the 4 of us, if anything, they were amping it up to spook her away. She handled it all like a pro; the crude jokes, the sexual innuendos, the unnecessary overly graphic description of what a bukkake is, even though she said she already knew what it was.

I don’t know if it was the fact that they were acting out or if maybe I’m outgrowing the behavior, but every fucked-up comment they said made me uncomfortable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a wasted Nick elbowing Jolly and discretely gesturing to Vallie. When I follow their focus, I find what they were drunkenly gawking at. It was exactly what I had been avoiding all night. I quickly stack the other game boxes in front of her chest to obscure their eye-line. “So, what should we play next!”

Folio snaps me a furrowed look that reminds me of toddler getting his candy taken away. Jolly too gives me a funny look as if he just figured something out then leans into Nick and whispering something that caused them to giggle like schoolgirls. I narrow my eyes at them, telepathically scolding them to cut it out.

Vallie peeks up from her organized cards, “What’s so funny?” She asks innocently with wide emerald eyes lined with dark lashes.

“Nothing they’re just drunk.” I answer for them.

“Oh c’mon, you can’t tell me that you’re drunk off just a couple shots?” She teases with a sly smile.

“Easy for you to say winner! You’ve been sippin’ the same drink this whole game!” Jolly’s laugh fills the cramped dining room while he leans back in his chair.

“This is my third drink for your information.” She clarifies with sass while stuffing the playing cards into their box.

“You should take a shot!” Jolly suggests, over-enthusiastically.

Before she could even answer, Folio interjects, “Without your hands.”

I feel like lasers are shooting from my eyes when I look over at his smug intoxicated expression. “You don’t have to do that V-”

“No, I’m fine.” She says contently before taking an empty shot glass and pouring it full of clear liquid.

“No really, you don’t have to.” I assure her quietly.

“Oh Nicholas,” Her own voice is tangled with alcohol, “I was in a sorority, I think I can handle a couple of men being men.” She stands up and smooths out the ribbed buttoned top that hugs her full chest and lands above her small waist. She hasn’t even bent down yet and they’re whooping and hollering like… well like college boys.

Before I could stop myself, I shoot up from my chair, “Enough!” My voice booms through the tiny dining room, more than I had ever intended. All three of them look at me, their faces mixed with shock and slight apprehension.

Unexpectedly, the front door swings wide open and slams into the wall behind it, probably leaving a dent behind. A visibly wasted Noah stumbles into the living room, leaving the door wide open behind him.

I sigh, already knowing the direction this night is about to take.

“Oh Jesus.” Groans out an already annoyed Folio, rubbing his temples, “I’m gonna need a fucking joint to deal with this.”

“Ditto.” Agrees Jolly.

“Well look who it is!” Noah slurs and flails a long-sleeved arm to gesture to the whole group. “My so-called band, who fucking left me!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes with a heavy exhale. “Noah, we didn’t fucking leave you.”

In the background, Jolly brings a metal tray of green over to Folio who quickly but precariously begins rolling green flower into a brown paper. Within seconds the roll is plucked between his index and thumb with the end sizzling red.

Between Noah stumbling around like a town drunk, the two in the corner getting stoned and Vallie witnessing everything, I suddenly feel like a single parent trying to police 4 rambunctious children.

“Yeah, you fucking did!” Noah mumbles from the kitchen facing the dining room. “You gave up on everything we fucking wanted,” He hiccups, “For money,” He says the word with utter disgust, and lazily points a hand at Vallie. “Because of her.”

I quickly glance over to her, to see if she was alright and she didn’t even hear him, she was busy leaning across the table to take the lit blunt from Folio’s hand. For some reason, the sight of them frustrates me.

Noah leans against the granite counter looking utterly depleted; dark purple circles beneath heavy bloodshot eyes, his long hair a mess from having walked through whipping wind, and his clothes covered in dirt.

“Noah, stop being so fucking dramatic.” Jolly gets up and walks past me over to him, probably knowing that I’m not good at playing the parent. “We’re just…” He looks back at Folio and Vallie who were now sitting next to each other watching the scene intently and passing the joint back and forth like it’s popcorn. “We’re just doing some… team building.”

“I’m-” He begins before covering his mouth and quickly makes his way to the sink to release the contents of his stomach into it.

A grossed out, “Ooh.” Comes from the two still sitting behind me at the table.

I glare at them then sigh and hold out my hand for the little bit that was left of the roll. Vallie stretches over the table to hand me the burning stub, I put it to my lips and inhale deeply, letting the thick smoke fill my lungs completely. I lean my head back against the door frame and exhale an opaque white cloud above me. A visceral relief spreads through my chest like spilled ink. I cough a bit as I hand it back over to the peanut gallery.

Jolly holds Noah’s long hair back while he gathers himself over the sink. “I think maybe we should get you into the bathroom.” Jolly advises sternly. I can tell that Noah doesn’t want to listen by the way he grips the counter hard until his knuckles are white, then releases in defeat. We’ve been here too many times for him for him to defy us.

“Fine.” Noah grumbles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jolly gives me a look that means it was time for me to hook Noah’s left arm around my shoulders. We make it not even 2 steps forward before Noah coughs up vomit all over himself and Jolly.

“Fuck!” Yells Jolly, practically dropping him to go wash off his shirt.

“Oh god.” Folio immediately covers his mouth after seeing the throw up and ran off to the nearest bathroom.

I decide the best course of action is to set Noah down on the tiled kitchen floor before he had the chance to ruin anything else. He’s so gone that he doesn’t even seem to notice that he was set on the floor. I run off to grab some towels from the laundry room and when I return, I stop in my tracks.

Vallie is there on the floor with him, kneeled next to him and gently wiping the vomit off his face. Noah held a giant empty neon green salad bowl in his lap to catch any future accidents.

“Oh,” She notices me in her peripheral, “Uh, I found that bowl in a cupboard,” Using her pinky to point to the navy-blue cabinets above her, “It’s the only thing I could find.”

Noah’s brown eyes are nearly black and completely glossed over, his cheeks flushed with alcohol – and thank god, because he wouldn’t let her anywhere near him if he was fully coherent.

“Do you have a water bottle?” She asks in a sickeningly sweet tone. “And maybe bread?”

“Uh- Yeah, yeah, of course.” I strategically step over his lanky legs to the fridge to get a water and pull a loaf from the counter, handing them to her. She cracks the bottle open for him and when he doesn’t take it, she softly grabs his jaw and slowly pours a thin stream of water into his mouth.

“You’re pretty good at this.” I comment quietly as to not make too much noise.

She glimpses up at me with a small kind smile, “I told you, I was in a sorority. You learn how to take care of drunk people really quick.”

I nod and cross my arms, “Right.” then rest the length of my body against the door frame as I watch them in front of me.

She takes out a slice of bread, splits it in half and holds it up to his mouth. His heavy-lidded eyes lift to meet hers, “I just don’t want to lose them.” He croaks out, melodramatically.

“You won’t.” Vallie reassures curtly.

“They’re all I have.” He states clearly, probably the most coherent thing he’d said all night. His brown eyes watch her closely, but his focus was waning as sleep is begging to pull him under. “Don’t take them from me.”

She presses her lips together seemingly processing his request. “I won’t let it happen.” She says as if she’s trying to convince him that there are no monsters beneath his bed. Her voice is lucid, but I can still hear the tequila she’s hiding under her words. She carefully places her hand on top of his, “I promise.”

He blinks up at her surprised and raises his brows, “Pinky?” Then weakly lifts his arm to poke out a shaky pinky.

She chuckles at his drunken innocence, “Sure.”  And hooks her pinky with his, which resulted in a giant cheesy grin plastered across his face before slumping further.

There’s an odd heavy swirl in the pit of my stomach of something vile; for a moment, I think I might need to vomit too. But the more I watch them, the more the feeling spreads. Then, I realize this pit has been growing since the card game earlier. Her winning over Folio and Jolly annoyed me. Even Noah getting along with her, at least to an extent, made me sick.

I wanted them to get along, I thought it would make things better, less complicated. I don’t understand how it somehow made everything murkier or why it’s bringing this churn to my intestines. Something about it all that makes me wonder if Noah was right all along. Maybe we are in danger and maybe she is the threat.

Next Chapter -> 06 - Whiplash*

a/n: thank you so much if you took the time to read this! I'm extremely appreciative of those of you who are reblogging or commenting on previous chapters 🥺

i thought of stopping posting here bc i've seen some fanfic slander within the fandom and idk it just made me sad? guilty? idk. but tumblr is my safe space & i love writing fanfic so... here i still am lol

lmk if you liked it 🖤

[redwayfarers]

a particularly nasty weed also known as a wayfarer

Fandom: Wayfarer IF Ship: Implied Cassander/Senna Characters: Cassander Inteus (OC) Rating: Gen Words: 1380 Read on ao3

The baths, even before I stepped foot in them, radiate warmth. It’s like a cocoon of a mother’s hug - not that I would know what that feels like - except with sweaty bodies who are usually not related to you whatsoever but you all groan happily together once the hot water hits your sore muscles. In my experience, people usually gawk for a grand total of a few seconds before everyone turns to mind their own business again. Until our toes touch and their magic is stopped for a moment. That’s when they gawk again, and I have to wave my Wayfarer pendant and they calm down again. 

Some sneak looks, though. I can’t really fathom why - I look the way I look, I have to bend a little to go through most doors, but they’ve surely seen a tall person before. They have seen freckles before, and the hair. It’s not so common, but it’s not.. It’s not the weirdest shit ever either? It’s just hair. Hair that desperately needs a wash, but that’s another matter entirely. At least they don’t look at me and think of Theokleia. 

And of course, I have to bend to get in. The guy who I paid at the entrance chuckles about it as he lifts a brow. Left brow. I raise my right brow in an open challenge and he just laughs and sure, his laughter’s a little raspy, but it’s nice to hear. It dies down as I enter the dressing space, shake off the foul smelling cloth off my body and walk down to the pools. 

Okay, okay. Fucking with the entrance guy should not affect me as much as it does. I like making people laugh, as a general rule of thumb. When I discovered I could do it, it made me think that finally, there’s something in this fucking world I’m good at by virtue of being myself. It’s always given me a sense of satisfaction. Maybe if I’m funny enough, I even manage to catch a handsome man looking my way, only to wave my hand and say I’m taken because I am! Because when the world grows tired of me, there’s a blacksmith in the Spire who waits for me! 

I have no idea whatsoever what I’m going to do when Senna gets tired of me, but I’ll cross that bridge when it happens. For now, I’m just enjoying what I have. That's all I can do. That’s all I’ve always done. Asking for too much can only make what little I do have go away faster than it needs to. 

And right now, I have warm water I myself paid for, orange hair oils in my pack and the satisfaction of a job well done. The pools are offensively pleasant when I submerge myself in them and I don’t hide a groan. It draws attention, as most sounds of a most carnal nature do, and a part of me hopes that people move on as quickly as they catch it. 

“The waters are that good, I take it?” a voice startles me and I close my gaping mouth to look at the source of it. 

“Travelling is hard on the body and not to mention the nose,” I say, straightening my back. The interlocutor is a brown-skinned human with a straight nose and a beauty mark underneath his right eye. He seems to like the way blonde looks on him, even though his dark roots disagree with that. He doesn’t acknowledge that struggle whatsoever as he looks me over. 

“It is. My friends and I always stop at places like this. For the sake of our noses, as you say.” He leans back and stretches at the edge of the water. There are two twin, thin scars beneath his chest that disappear as quickly as they show. “What’s your name?” 

“Cassander.” I make the initial syllable pop. I’m Vestran, so is my name. He’s still looking at me, trying to catch my gaze. I suppress the urge to look away. 

“A fellow Vestran, then!” He leans over conspiratorially. “I’m Elias,” he says in Vestran. “The others are probably thinking we’re plotting something right now, Cassander, maybe striking a deal they’re not privy to-” 

“Don’t care for plotting!” The voice that comes out of my throat is so fucking far from the way it’s supposed to sound, the bastard. “I’m not a merchant, I’m not a noble, not anymore, so I’m just not plotting shit!” 

Elias moves away and shakes his head. I dig my nails into my thighs beneath the water, willing my cheeks to cool off. I’m a taken man, for fuck’s sake! “Most of the travelers these days are merchants, so I assumed. But you say you’re not a noble anymore?” 

“Nope,” I talked myself into this mess, I’ll talk myself out of it. “Only Inteus alive to not have fancy titles and shit. Instead, I’m a Wayfarer.” 

Elias’ eyes widen. The look in them - deep, genuine, surprised, confused - makes me want to shiver in the hot water and not in a good way. Have I suddenly lost all value as a person? Wouldn’t be the first fucking time. Am I suddenly a strange beast you only see once a century or something, so you gawk? 

Fuck, is everyone else gawking too? I’m suddenly all too aware that there’s other people around, that I’m in a public bathhouse, and I dig my overgrown nails into the bare skin of my upper arm. My reflection in the water, if I can catch anything through the bubbles, doesn’t offer an answer. My body feels too long, too thin, too stretched out– 

“I’ve never met a Wayfarer before,” Elias then says. “My grandfather may have, but he’s old and we think he made them up.” 

“Them?” The speed my head comes back to its proper place makes me dizzy. I don’t trust the casual tone of my own voice.

“A purple-skinned melusine woman with green hair and her blonde elf companion. You don’t see a lot of melusine around, true, but a Wayfarer melusine..” 

I frown. “I know them. The elf is a good friend of mine and the melusine his friend from the apprenticeship days. Your grandfather did not make them up.” 

“Really?” Elias grins. “I have to tell Father next time I see him! The mythical Wayfarers are real people after all!” He tilts his head. “Now I have a Wayfarer sighting of my own - a Vestran one no less. Not to mention exceedingly handsome.” 

I squirm and hug my knees. Let the word spread that Theokleia has a Wayfarer son. But I’m not… I am a Wayfarer, but also Cassander. Am I exceedingly handsome because of me for whatever reason or because I’m a Wayfarer?

“I have a boyfriend in the Spire,” I say, yet it doesn’t feel like it did in my head. Why would anything? Satisfaction isn’t for the likes of me, a Wayfarer. “I am headed there to see my boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” Elias’ smile drops. He moves away. I run my fingers over the rough and uneven skin of my knees. “You should’ve said something earlier.”

“Well I am saying now,” I snap, trying to work with the storm of emotions in my chest. “Do I need to tell you a sappy story about the earring he made me, about the latest bite he left? Do you teeth need to fall out from how fucking sweet our love is?”

“No,” Elias squints. “I think I understand perfectly well, Inteus.” He then gets up, wraps a towel around his waist and walks away. I don’t look after him, trying my hardest not to tear up, and angrily reach for my satchel to wash my hair. It’s summer, it can dry pretty fast, and it’s bothersome enough to not feel like the absolute shit of a person, if I’m more than a fucking Wayfarer. More than a magianis. 

I’m never gonna see this guy again. And Vestra will know that the sick boy from the Inteus mansion is now alive and well, a fully grown family shame who even bears resemblance to the ground he sprouted on, a particularly nasty weed.

It’s not like life’s generous enough to give me anything more anyway. 

[insomniacdreammerbb]

Synopsis: a continuation of my slow burn love story of my favorite chaotic mess and F!Reader. Smut involved, 18+ minors DNI

Tigger Warnings: slight angst/insecurities - oral F and M receiving - fingering

A/N: Thank you to all of those of you who enjoyed my first chapter. This is my first time writing smut so any feedback is appreciated. 🫠 Also, I’m kind of new to tumblr and am still Learning the platform 😅. If someone could tell me how to hyperlink the chapters together in individual posts that’d be great because I’ve been struggling here for the last few minutesTrying to figure it out.

Word count: 6.5k - definitely did not mean to make it this long but oh well

Chapter 2:

“Quilt,” you say laying down the small wooden tiles on the board, “and with the triple point square that’s 42 points which puts me at 237 points and you at 215.”

“Goddammit woman,” Dieter exclaimed in defeat but also giggling, “you sure you’re not using the word with friends app underneath the table?”

“C’mon you know the drill,” you said gesturing to the table near the front door and whispered, “we’re in the zone of silence.”

Dieter placed his hands together and whispered like a prayer, “zone of silence.”

You erupted in giggles, mostly for all the weed the two of you had been smoking for the last few hours. It had been a long running joke between the two of you. You don’t remember how but Dieter got the idea in his head that cells phones give off radiation and EMF’s so he’d stop using his phone after 10pm till the next morning. He had also demanded the same of you whenever you two were together. It didn’t bother you much, you had your own personal goal of limiting your screen time for your mental health anyways. So any time you two were together you’d put your phones away and call it the zone of silence. Dieter always had to say it as if it were a prayer but the truth was that he only kept doing it because you’d giggle every time he did.

Dieter’s phone rang for the third time tonight.

“That bitch is crazy,” Dieter mused, running his hands through his fluffy hair.

“Why is she blowing you up if she’s the one that slapped you?” You questioned him.

“She usually does this when she’s drunk,” Dieter responded, “and everytime she does it’s always one of two things that end up happening. She acts all cute and needy but usually ends up with her bawling her eyes out over some stupid shit or she starts off with bawling over some stupid shit.”

“Then why do you keep talking to her?” You question him. It wasn’t the first time you’ve ever asked this question but it always starts and ends the same.

“She’s the one that keeps coming back,” Dieter repeated, shrugging, “not like I got anything else going on right now.”

“You could find someone else if you wanted to,” you pointed out, “I mean come one, you’re a big hot shot actor, you're insanely hot, and you’re one of the coolest people I know.”

Dieter’s head perked up at your words with a playful tone, “So you think I’m sexy?”

“I said you were hot bravo,” you responded, “there’s a difference.”

“Oh yea what’s that?” Dieter questioned.

“Hot meaning it’s nice to look at you,” You started to explain, “Sexy is reserved for people you’d like to fuck.”

Dieter seemed to muse your words over in his head, “So… you don’t think I’m sexy?”

The air in the room seemed to get heavier, “Well… I mean…you’re my boss.”

Dieter seemed to pick up what you were putting down, “I know.”

“I’m just saying,” you continued to say, “it’s a big world and anything could happen. I don’t think Lola’s the right one for you but someone will be. There’s a lot of likable qualities about you.”

“Yeah like bank accounts and my stardom that most women just want a piece of,” Dieter grumbled, “not to mention my drug problems, my weird kinks, and the inability to commit.”

“Well you really should slow down on the drugs,” you agreed, “but all the other things I think are fixable problems. And frankly I think once you find someone worthwhile all those things will fall into place.”

“Doubt it,” Dieter grouched back, “most women don’t give a shit about all that. They’re all just gold digging whores.”

“Yeah but you told me last month that gold digging whores are your bread and butter,” you pointed out.

“Unfortunately I think I’m getting bored of all that debauchery,” Dieter replied, “sure the sex is good… it used to be better but I don’t know. I think I’m getting over it or I’m just getting too old for this shit.”

You wanted to point out that if he stopped doing drugs that he’d probably feel better. But the two of you have gotten into very heated arguments over his drug use. Eventually it had boiled down to you both agreeing to draw a line in your friendship. As much as you respected and cared for Dieter it wasn’t your place to tell a grown man how to live his life. You always just silently hoped in the back of your head that he wouldn’t tumble in something that became unmanageable.

And to his credit he did manage well. Sometimes he’d go for months without touching any drugs. Usually when he was working and had a heavy schedule of shooting. But anytime that press tours, parties and times of unemployment rolled around it was all playtime for him.

“You’re not that old,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah will I sure as shit ain’t getting any younger,” Dieter said standing up from the coffee table where you two had your scrabble game going and flopping down on the couch.

You tried to stand to get up but your right foot was asleep from crossing your legs and putting most of your weight on the right side. You felt the staticky pins and needles through your leg.

“Need a hand?” Dieter said lazily getting to his feet and walking around the table extending a hand to you, “seeing as how you’re so strung out on the weed that you can’t get up.”

“I’m not even that high,” You mused trying to stand again and feeling your limbs flop. You shook your head slightly embarrassed but took Dieter’s hand regardless.

“Well you know how it goes babe,” Dieter said with his shit eating grin, “dance with Mary Jane get your toes stepped on.”

“Haha,” you said flatly.

His hands held firmly onto yours as he pulled you up, stringing one arm around your waist and dragged you over to the couch. You flopped down on the corner bringing your leg up to your chest and started massaging your own foot. Dieter took the other corner of the couch a few feet away. He placed his arm along the back of the couch and laid his head back. It was getting late, it was almost one in the morning. You would most likely end up crashing on the couch if you decided not to drive home. You had never slept in a bed with Dieter before and you’ve never truly wanted to. It wouldn't be the first time that you slept on a couch in one of Dieter’s luxury hotel suites. You probably could drive, you really weren’t that high anymore and could manage it. But you also knew that Dieter would throw a tantrum if you tried to leave because he didn’t want you driving under any influence.

“So what about you then?” Dieter finally questioned after a few minutes of silence.

“What about what?” You asked, finally putting your leg down now that your foot stopped throbbing.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” Dieter asked.

“Because he just dumped me like six hours ago,” you explained.

“C’mon you didn’t really like that guy did you?” Dieter pressed on looking at you with hazy eyes.

“Do you really like Lola?”

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Redirect.”

“Redirect what?”

“C’mon you always do this every time something comes up that you don’t want to talk about,” Dieter grunted, “we’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you.”

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably and tried mulling over the words on the tip of your tongue trying to find a way to explain it, “I don’t know. I mean when I first met Matt he was charming and nice but most people are when you first start dating them. They’re on their best behavior before reality starts to sink in. I just don’t think Matt and I were right for each other.”

“Still you haven’t really dated anyone since we got back from Cliff Beasts 6,” he pointed out, “you should have just as long of a line of dudes trying to get with you as I got women lined up.”

You laughed out loud at his words, “Dieter I’m just a regular person. No one knows me.”

“Yeah but that’s because you don’t put yourself out there,” Dieter explained, “You haven’t been really trying to date or anything.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” You question playfully.

“Well I mean you do live in my guesthouse,” Dieter pointed out.

“Yeah I also answer your emails, take your phone calls, look for auditions and upcoming projects, book your airfare and your flights, your drives to all your events, talks to your agent, your lawyer, your publicist, your stylist and I even book you all inclusive romantic ocean view suites for your debauchery adventures,” you listed off.

Dieter looked at you concerned, “Are you feeling overworked? If you need help I could find someone else to come in and help you. Whoever you want, you could have a say in who we pick if you feel like you need it.”

“Oh no it’s not like that,” you responded assuringly, “I don’t feel overworked or anything. I like my job, I like to keep your life on track. Frankly I think it helps keep my life on track too.”

“So when do you get to have fun then?” Dieter questioned her.

“On Friday nights when I get dumped and have a sit in with my boss whooping his ass at scramble,” you explained.

“If that’s your definition of fun then we desperately need to host an intervention,” Dieter grumbled running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t think that the subject of the intervention is supposed to plan out the intervention,” you said thinking it over, “I think the other people around them are supposed to inflict it on them.”

“Alright fine then I’m initiating the intervention right now,” Dieter proclaimed.

“Ok” you shrug unsure how to respond. You were sure that this was all playful stoner banter that he would surely forget in the morning like you two always did.

“Alright step one,” Dieter started sitting up and sitting cross legged facing you, “So why did Matt say that you were the best head he’s gotten?”

“What?” You laugh at the sudden question from left field. You weren’t surprised by the sudden change of subject. It happened often with Dieter.

“What does that have to do with anything?” you asked him.

“Well, the first step of the intervention is honesty,” Dieter explained, “and I’ve been real curious by what he meant by that.”

“Are you asking me that because you want to know what he meant by that or are you asking because you got cheated out of getting head tonight?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn it really be a terrible thing if it were both?” Dieter asked with his signature puppy dog eyes.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your own grin from him.

“I mean it’s not like either one of us is getting laid tonight or anything let me live vicariously through Matty cakes dumb assery,” Dieter pleaded.

There was a slight pinch in your stomach at his words. You tried not to think about it. You didn’t want to follow down where this road went but you were always curious as to why Dieter never even attempted to ever have sex with you. Sure he’d make sexual comments and low key flirty remarks but they were never directed at you. You secretly wondered if that meant that he truly was not interested in you but the logical part of you also knew that was how it needed to be. He was your boss and this was real life, not a porn hub set.

“Besides I don’t even really give a shit about getting head all that much,” Dieter continued to say.

“Bullshit!” YOu called out shaking your head, “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s mostly true,” Dieter explained, “I mean it’s nice but frankly I’d much rather be the one giving head or eating pussy more than receiving.”

“Then why are you so curious about why Matty Cakes said that I’m too good at giving head?” You challenged him.

“First off, no redirection,” Dieter pointed out, “as I said we’re talking about you and not me. And secondly you just called him Matty Cakes for the first time which I think is progress in this intervention.”

“I don’t even think I really believe that that is the real reason why he dumped me,” you began to say, “I think he’s just pissed because all of his boys are giving him shit about me or trying to hit on me.”

“How?”

“He told them my story about the guy I puked on and how I got my reputation at UCLA,” you stated.

“They know that it’s a joke right?” Dieter questioned.

“Guess the dumbasses didn’t get the memo and thought it was real,” you shrug thinking back to all the creepy DM’s you got from his friends.

“So he’s the one that told them that story and then got pissed off that he’s friends started coming after you?” Dieter questioned.

“Pretty much,” you shrugged, “it’s stupid and ya know what? I don’t like stupid guys. Honestly any feelings that I may have had for him died at that moment.”

“Good because you could definitely do better than that ass hat,” Dieter stated, “but what did he mean about you being good at it? Did you go down on him a lot?”

“Not really,” you retorted, “I told him that I wouldn’t go down on him unless he went down on me. But the last time that I did I guess he seemed pretty into it.”

“How so?” Dieter continued to question.

You felt the heat creep over your cheeks, it had been about a month since it happened, “I don't know… I just do it.”

Dieter could see the pink in your cheeks spreading. Truth is he never allowed himself to entertain the idea of having you. He thought you were hot as hell and definetly someone he’d consider fucking when the two of you had first met. But then again those days were filled with him trying desperately to get a break in Hollywood. When he wasn’t doing that he was hooking up with every hot chick that came his way and partying it up everywhere he went. You were doing the same, it just so happened that you were two ships that never fully crossed paths in that regard.

Dieter really did have to discipline himself to not think of you in that way over the years. His whole career would not be what it was today without you keeping him in line. He knew that if he ever did try to sleep with you it’d only eventually he would ruin everything between the two of you. Any time any thoughts of you crossed his mind he’d distract himself with drugs, alcohol or other women. He wanted to keep you as his assistant and a friend more than what would eventually be another person on his list of scorned ex lovers. Dieter needed you more than you needed him.

And yet…

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” Dieter proposed earnestly, “oral I mean.”

“What?” You asked surprised, feeling all the haze from the weed quickly fading.

“I’ll go down on you if you go down on me,” Dieter continued to say, “all I’ve wanted all night long is to eat someone’s pussy. Let me take care of you better than Matty Cakes ever did.”

Dieter wasn’t fully convinced that you would say yes but he figured he might as well take his shot. Meanwhile you felt your face get hotter and your cunt clench at the thought. You had walked in on him plenty of times or had nothing but a wall separating you from his lovers. Their screams of pleasure rang in your ears even though you’d most of the time but on your big headphones to tune it out.

“Do you want to go down on me?” You question him surprised. You were used to his forwardness but this was the first time he’d ever been direct about wanting you.

“Is that a serious question?” Dieter asked with that same lopsided grin he had when he was playful.

“I just figured that you wouldn’t be into me like that,” you mused back shrugging.

“What? Why?” Dieter asked, surprised.

“Well you’ve never even…” you started to say before realizing that the thought in her head was probably better left there than coming out of your mouth.

“Never what?” Dieter questioned, his eyes full of concern.

“I mean…” YOu shrugged, “you’ve never really hit on me before or asked me for anything like this.”

“That’s partially only because my manager and agent threatened to castrate me if I ever ran you off,” Dieter explained, rolling his eyes, “that and well… I need you.”

You roll your eyes at his words, “you don’t need me. Not like that anyways.”

“Yes I do,” Dieter exclaimed and started talking quickly, “Well no- no- I mean I guess you’re right not like that that. But don’t take that the wrong way please. Because you’re fucking gorgeous. I’d kill to be the one burying my face between your thighs until I get your whole body shaking every night. But I usually always fuck things up with every person and with and I need you to run my life for me because there’s no way in hell that I can but also I need… I want…”

It was rare for you to see Dieter all tongue tied and twisted like he was now. Your stomach was churning with a secret desire. The forbidden fruit in the form of your best friend with fluffy hair and puppy dog eyes. You were still a little shell shocked from hearing that he wanted you at all.

Dieter scooted closer to you, “Do you want me lick your pussy till you come apart in my mouth? Because I sure as hell would love to see you on your knees for me. And it Matty Cakes is right about you being good at it I would be on my knees every day begging for your mouth.”

For the first time you felt yourself dampen between your legs as you pictured Dieter on his knees looking up at you.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You questioned him tightening your thighs together.

Dieter chuckled, noticing your movements. He scooted even closer, placing a hang on your leg and sliding his fingers between your thighs.

“Look babe,” he started to say, “we’ve been friends for years now. Let’s make a deal. I’ll eat you out and you go down on me, and when we’re done, if you want, we’ll never talk about it again.”

That was the first time in your friendship that he had called you something besides your name. It made your stomach flip with anticipation.

“If I want?” You repeated at his choice of words.

“That is unless you decide to beg on your knees for my tongue every night,” Dieter said, his eyes darkening with desire, “in which case my mouth is at your service babe.”

He called you babe again. More images and thoughts of the forbidden fruit passed through your mind. But you tried to shove that away and think about it logically. You two were both adults, and you really did believe that you could just go down on each other and then just let it go. Which is exactly what you would do, do this one time and then never speak of it again. What was the worst that could happen?

“And we’ll never talk about it again?” You asked him.

“Yes Ma’am,” Dieter nodded, “if that’s what you want.”

You sighed and took a moment before you said, “okay.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dieter said grabbing you hand and bounced off the couch, “c’mon baby, let me tongue fuck you so deep that you’ll still be soaked by the time the sun comes up.”

“Just remember Dieter,” you said as you let him pull you into the bedroom, “this is a one time thing.”

Dieter giggled and looked at you with a mischievous grin, “We’ll see what you say when I’m done with you.”

He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. He was about to pull you in to kiss him but you leaned back from him.

“Wait,” you commanded, Dieter complied quickly but looked at you quizzically, “no kisses. I think that’d be too far. If we’re gonna do this, just oral.”

Dieter felt a slight sting of disappointment but he understood. It probably wasn’t a bad idea if you really did change your mind come morning and really did just want this to be a one time thing. Dieter decided to just take what he could get from you.

“Alright babe,” Dieter nodded, “I guess I’ll just have to smother you with kisses on your other lips instead.”

You felt your pussy clench at his words. You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face. Before you knew it Deiter ducked down, tossing you over his shoulder and took you into the bedroom and tossed you onto the California king bed. You flopped down, giggling. It was something that you did when you were nervous or filled with anticipation, you couldn’t tell which. Dieter climbed up on the bed and hovered over you for a moment. He was staring at you, his eyes were dark with desire but still had the same warmth they always had.

God he wanted to kiss you. Your giggle made him instantly hard and now Dieter’s own mind was running away. He would honor your wishes but god he wished he could kiss you. Rip off all your clothes, have your nipples harden under his tongue, slap your ass and feel you cum on his cock, consequences be damned. The idea of you really never wanting to bring this up again worried but right now he just forced himself to push that out of his head and be in the moment. If he was going to have a shot with you he would just be fully present in the moment and deal with the blowback at sun up.

You were breathing shallow now, giddy with anticipation. Dieter leaned down and kissed right below your breasts over your tank top. He slowly kissed his way down while fumbling with the button and zipper of your pants. You sighed looking at his messy curly hair, you always wanted to run your hands through it. Usually either to mess up his perfectly styled hair or in an attempt to tame it. So you slowly brought up a hand and ran it through as he slowly laced his fingers on the inside of your pants and your panties.

“You sure about this babe?” Dieter asked, sitting up slightly toying with the skin under your panties.

You nodded in agreement.

Dieter smirked, piercing you with his gaze. You could see his dimples forming as he smiled, it made your heart flutter. Now that you were lying here in his bed with his fingers wrapped around your panties you could take in just how damn handsome he really was. Dieter began pulling down your clothes while also dragging his fingers down your legs. He tossed them onto the floor and got his first look at your cunt.

“Fuck babe,” Dieter said with a carnal growl, “god you’re so sexy. I should have tried a little harder to get into your pants at some point.”

“Well it’s not like you ever really tried before now,” you pointed out trying to maintain your breathing, you feel like you were about to burst with pure desire.

Dieter suddenly looked up at you with concern, “did you really think all these years that I was never attracted to you?”

That felt like a too heavy question giving the current position that you were in, “Are you gonna tongue fuck me or not Bravo?”

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter nodded, now sliding down the bed so that his face was just hovering above your hot wet cunt, “but I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. You’re fucking perfect babe.”

His apology made the mood feel heavier, and it made your heart skip a beat. However you didn’t have to spend too much time on it because in the next second Dieter leaned down and kissed you slowly. You felt his lips graze against your clit, they were soft and warm. He slowly made his way down, kissing you with just his mouth all the way through. You felt your legs quiver with each kiss. Dieter giggled, you could practically feel the vibrations all through your whole body through his little laugh. He wrapped his big arms under your thighs, pulling them apart and keeping a firm grasp with his big hands.

He stuck out the tip of his tongue, dragging it slowly up the folds of your slick and circled it around your clit. You moaned pathetically under him, throwing your head back and taking in sharp breaths. Your whole body felt like it was on fire from your fingertips down to your toes. He now took his whole tongue dragging it from top to bottom slowly. You gasped loudly now leaning up on your elbows looking down at him.

“Fuck you taste good,” Dieter mused lifting his head a bit and licking his lips.

His eyes were locked onto yours as he ran his whole tongue sliding through your slick as you got wetter at watching. He felt like hot velvet against your most intimate parts, you reached down with one hand and lace it through his curled. Dieter seemed encouraged by you touching him. He pulled your legs further apart giving him more access. He dug his tongue into you as deep as you could, you could feel your head getting lighter from the pressure. Your remaining elbow gave out on you as you fell back onto the bed, you put your arm above your head. Your legs twitched and you bucked your hips up at his tongue.

Dieter giggled, “you’re a squirmy one aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” you giggled feeling slightly embarrassed, “I usually can’t hold still for something like this.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me babe,” Dieter responded kissing your clit, “I like that I can give you a full body experience with just my tongue.”

“I figured most guys would be annoyed by it,” you replied

“I think it’s sexy,” Dieter responded, “I wanna try something.”

You looked down at him curiously, he stuck his tongue out and circled it around your clit. Your legs twitched again and your body rolled with pleasure.

“Damn you’re sensitive,” Dieter observed with a Cheshire grin over his face.

“I can’t help it,” you mused back feeling your brain turn to mush.

“Well maybe someday if you’re up for it I’ve got a couple things that would make you hold still,” Dieter purred with a flare in his eyes.

You felt yourself fire up inside at his words, filled with hot desire. You knew what items he was talking about given then you ordered most of them at his instruction. You pictured yourself in his bed, handcuffed to his bed frame and the spreader bar between your legs. It made you squirm even more at the idea.

Dieter laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Now Dieter pulled your legs apart as much as he could and buried his face in your wet cunt. His nose brushed against your clit as his tongue lapped at you over and over. You’re brain definitely deteriorated into mush as he tongue fucked you. You cried out in pure ecstasy and rock into his mouth, moving in rhythm with him. He holds a hard grip around your legs, you tighten your grip on his hair. He growls into your soaked cunt, now moving at a desperate pace. He moves his tongue from top to bottom and occasionally stopping to suck your clit.

You feel another jolt of pleasure as Dieter reaches up and slides two fingers into you. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck babe you’re soaking wet,” Dieter purred, feeling the breath against your slick, “god you’re fucking perfect.”

Dieter runs the tip of his tongue against your clit with mild pressure while he moves his fingers quickly in and out of you. Now you feel your orgasm quickly building up. It was like lighting a firework inside of you, you could feel the fuse burning up quickly with the anticipation explosion coming on. Your fingers and your toes were tingling as you cried out. Then Dieter delivered the final shot as he curled his fingers a bit, hitting you in just the right way and now wrapped his whole mouth around your clit sucking. The firework within you exploded spectacularly, your whole body was trembling now. Your orgasm ripped through your body, mind and soul.

You squirmed around in the bed against Dieter’s fingers and face. He was so fucking hard right now. He’d never seen someone that was quiet as squirmy as you, as if you really were having a whole body experience just from him tongue fucking you. God he wanted to wrap his body around yours entirely, feel you tremble against him and use his weight to keep you still or at the very least squirm against him.

Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your orgasm. Dieter slides his hand up your stomach and under your take top as you continue to roll your body through the end of your orgasm. He liked the way your skin and your body rolled under his palm. It really took every morsel of self control that he had to not just rip your shirt off and pounce on you to kiss you and make you get a taste of yourself.

Eventually you calm down and look up at him. His chin glistened with the remains from your wet cunt. He was staring at your body, you could tell that he was deep in thought. You were tempted to ask him what he was thinking about but it was probably not a good idea. Besides, the two of you did have a deal.

You sit up getting your face close to his, you could practically smell your own musk on him.

“Your turn,” you said, placing your hands on his chest as you sat up on your knees.

You gently guided him down on the bed, he flopped down and you swung your legs over him straddling him. You sat down on him and immediately felt his hard cock through his pants. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from you and you swore you could almost feel him twitch under you.

“You just gonna sit there giggling on my cock all night or suck on it?” Dieter smiled, running his hands on your thighs.

“I don't know, I think I felt you enjoy my giggle,” you said playfully, batting your eyes.

“You’re a tease aren’t you?” Dieter questioned with a devious grin.

You just shrugged above him.

“I like all these new things that I’m learning about you,” Dieter said, running his hands up your thighs to your waist.

You smiled, feeling a fond warmth in yourself at his words. The daunting thought of what would happen in the morning flashed through your mind. But just as quickly as it came you pushed it away. You had work to do.

You shimmied down him, grabbing at his belt buckle and undoing his pants. You pulled them gently down and his cock sprange free. You wrapped your hands around him, pumping him slowly and gently, he growled and closed his eyes revealing your touch. He was already hard as a rock, you leaned down getting your face close to him and kept pumping. A bead a precum was already forming, you decided to use Dieter’s own trick against him. You stuck out the tip of your tongue and ran it over his head gently.

Dieter groaned with shaky breath, opening his eyes to look down at you. You looked so unbelievably sexy toying with him like this. You swirl your tongue around his head a few times gently, you could feel him throbbing in your hands. You then enclosed your mouth around the top half of him sliding your lips and your tongue on half of him slowly and sensually.

“You are a fucking tease,” Dieter whispered running his hands through your hair.

“Do you need me to pick it up?” You ask earnestly wondering if you were bothering him.

“Dont you fucking dare stop,” Dieter ordered and then gave you the warm pouty eyes, “Please?”

You smirked, biting your lip before you placed your tongue at the base and ran all the way up to the tip swirling around and kept eye contact with him while you did. Dieter shuddered in your hands and felt his chest tighten up in a way that he never really felt before. You enveloped him in your mouth entirely, sliding your tongue over his whole length. You could feel him throbbing in the back of your throat. It was getting sloppy with the amount of drool that became natural lube that you used to pick up the pace.

Dieter grunted under you, keeping a hard grip in your hair. He was in heaven right now. This felt different than the usual head that you got. Truth was, you were trying to put as much fervor into him as he put into you. You would always usually match the same energy and effort that someone put into you. You needed it to be great so you kept pumping him in your mouth. Occasionally focusing your tongue around the head and against where you could tell he was extra sensitive by the way he’d moan your name as you did. Truth be told, listening to him like this and feeling him throb in your mouth was making you wet again.

Then the unthinkable happened. Well, unthinkable to Dieter. He didn’t even feel it coming on, usually he could tell when his orgasm was coming on. He’d get so caught up in the moment chasing down his orgasm like a dog chasing a tire until he reached his peak. But not this time.

All at once his balls tightened up, his cock was throbbing harder than he’s ever felt his whole damn life and his orgasm exploded out of him unexpectedly and all at once. He swore he could feel his whole body coiling up with electric like fire that came exploding out of his cock. He was seeing stars and his mind went totally blank. You had made him cum for a blow job.

You weren’t expecting it either, but either way once you knew what was happening you kept your mouth and tongue wrapped around him tightly. His hot seed painted the back of your throat and you swallowed it quickly. You weren’t a huge fan of swallowing but you seemed to both be so caught up in the moment that you took it. You slid your tongue and mouth up his cock and you sat up on your knees wiping your mouth. You closed your eyes, swallowing down his cum as best you could trying to hide the fact that you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of it. Except that he was already staring at you wide eyed like a deer in the headlights. In fact his whole body was shaking lightly.

“Sorry,” you said flatly, “I don’t really like the taste of baby gravy all that much.”

“Wait, what did you just say?” Dieter questioned as the seriousness faded from his face.

“What? Baby gravy?” You said with a playful smirk.

Dieter burst out laughing, running his hand over his face. When it looked like he was about to stop laughing he locked eyes with you and started laughing vivaciously again. His laugh was contagious. Even the reality of what you two had just done started to sink in but in a fun playful way. You flopped down next to him, and giggled uncontrollably until you were both laughing like maniacs for the next five minutes. Who knew that your near decade of friendship would end you up here.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Dieter finally asked after he was completely red faced from laughing.

He rolled over on his side, propping his head up on one hand.

“You were there,” you pointed out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I mean how did you make me cum?” Dieter questioned looking earnestly at you.

“You’re asking me that question?” You retort with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” Dieter explained, “I don’t think I’ve cum from a blow job in years. Usually it doesn’t get me there.”

“Bullshit,” you said, shaking your head. You didn’t believe him.

“I’m serious!” He almost shouted back at you, “it’s almost impossible for me to cum with my dick in someone’s mouth. I’ve tried to, I’ve tried desperately to have someone get me there but holy shit babe! I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good in…”

“Really?” You almost whispered to him, “this is the first time that you’ve ever really cum from a blow job?”

“Promise,” Dieter replied.

Dieter sat there, staring at you in wonder. You looked so fucking beautiful right now. Your eyes were twinkling from your orgasm and your cheeks were still flushed from the laughter. Even Deiter felt like his whole body was hooked up to an electric current coursing through him. The giddiness from your funny baby gravy line in tangent with the feeling his his throbbing dick exploding in your mouth made him feel nearly euphoric.

“Jesus fucking Christ I need to send Matty Cake’s a thank you card for dumping you,” Dieter went on to say, “and I’m most definitely gonna be on my knees every damn day begging for your mouth.”

As much as you wanted to reveal in the idea, there was a slight wave of sadness that washed over you. You had been trying to avoid the elephant in the room but now that you two had done the deed that you had both agreed upon you’d have to face reality in the morning.

Dieter could practically read your mind with the way your face changed. The realization of what had just happened filled Dieter with a deep dread. His stomach sank and all of the euphoria drained out of him quickly in that moment when it suddenly crashed down on him like a ton of bricks that he was totally, completely and insufferable head over heels in love with you.

Dieter rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling avoiding your gaze. He could feel that he had the deer in the headlights look on his face again. You also just laid on your back, trying to enjoy what little time you had left before you face reality

Tag list: @bitchwitch1981

[transamorousnetwork]

How I EASILY Met My Perfect Transgender Girlfriend

I usually write posts about extraordinary results my Transamorous Network clients get. Today, I’m writing about my results. They’re pretty freaking cool. And they show how easy it is to meet our matches, whether we’re trans or trans-attracted.

That’s right, much like Hair Club For Men founder Sy Sperling, I’m not only the founder of The Transamorous Network, I’m also a client. In other words, I practice what I preach. The same things I tell clients to do in their lives, I do in mine.

Sometimes someone will ask me “if your approach works so well, how come you’re not in a relationship?”

The answer is complicated.

I’m in the process of my own self-discovery. That’s my priority. I am exploring my own gender expression among other things. A lot of “me” is under construction therefore. Yes, I’m 100 percent exclusive about being with a transgender woman. But I wasn’t clear what specifics I wanted in a partner yet. Because I’m not clear about me.

But then, Muriel happened (I’ve changed her name and some details to protect her privacy). That’s right. She came into my life unexpectedly. And, over time, I’ve developed a fascinating attraction to her. More on that later.

What’s important now is how this happened. I didn’t do ANY of the things others do to find their partner. I didn’t go to bars. Nor did I join a dating site. She literally came to me. That’s exactly how I promise my clients their partners will show up: with no effort on their part. I just kept telling positive stories. And then Muriel showed up. 

She wasn’t the only one

I wasn’t out looking for transgender girlfriend. Still, I would regularly come across them in town. Every so often, transgender women would hit on me too. That’s because I’m open and authentic about who I am. I embrace all of me, especially my transamory. Which is why the Universe brings me trans women all the time. That tells me I have my stories right.

Over the years, several transgender women have been so bold as to call my cell. Out of the blue, I’d get a call. I love it when transgender women are bold like that. I know when they are like that, there must be something about them that resonates with who I’m being. So when that has happened, I’ve reveled in the rendezvous no matter what happens after that call.

Not every transgender woman who reaches out is my type. But instead of focusing on that, I always reveled in those who were matches. So it isn’t a surprise to me that I eventually came across someone like Muriel. Someone who is, for the moment, a perfect match to my constantly refining desire.

Chasing is the hard way guys and gals

How many of you men have tried to get a trans girl’s attention, in a bar or online, and been ignored or ghosted? I know you’ve had that experience. I’ve had it too, when I was doing what some of you do. That experience sucks. Especially when some transgender women hold preconceived notions that all of us are fetishizers out for lustful satisfaction only.

When you’re out in a bar or online somewhere, it’s not easy to weed out those kinds of transgender women from the ones you want. You want trans women who want to be with you because they appreciate who you are. That’s why I tell my clients stop doing what every other guy (or trans girl) does. Instead, do something different: let the Universe bring the girl/guy to you!

Many guys think that’s crazy talk. They think it won’t work. Even some trans girls think that way. Maybe you think that way. Not my clients though. It takes convincing at first. But in time, life shows them how easy finding love can be.

Think I’m bullshitting? How do you explain these high quality girls, both of whom reached out to me recently. Both did so on their own initiative, with me not having any idea they were out there:

^^A high quality transgender woman expressing her affection…

^^And here’s another!

These are just two of the many transgender women who have reached out to me recently. Since starting The Transamorous Network, I’ve been approached my many more, through my blog and in person. But enough of that. Now, I want to lavish thoughts about Muriel, the girl I find myself fascinatingly attracted to.

An wonderful connection

She responded to a blog post I wrote earlier this year. Muriel and I see the world similarly. So I appreciated her perspective. I sent her an admiring reply. She replied with thanks. I don’t think either one of us had romantic intentions. 

But the more I read some of her posts, including those on Facebook, the more I realized Muriel was really, really smart. I don’t remember who initiated, but we became Facebook friends. From there, getting to know one another accelerated.

Now, besides being super, wicked smart, Muriel also looks great. At least I think so. I especially like that she proudly owns being a “woman with a dick”, as she puts it, which I think is the epitome of what it means to be trans. She doesn’t try to be a cis-woman. She’s proud that she’s trans. And I love that about her. I also like that she’s close to my age. And that she recognizes me as a staunch ally of transgender women, which I am, of course!

When Muriel first sent me racy pictures, I was surprised. I didn’t ask for them, but I did welcome them. Muriel responded with more, increasingly revealing photos. Along with them, we had wonderfully intimate and revealing conversations around sexuality, gender expression, what we like to do in bed and more. I love her self-assuredness. And I’m happy she trusts me.

Muriel also is married and has a child. Her relationship is open, though, which is perfect for me because at the moment, I prefer focusing on my self development. Still, I look forward to seeing Muriel in person. In the meantime, I love who she is. And I enjoy time with her.

The Transamorous Network approach works

My life shows me in so many ways that what I show my clients works. I’m producing the same results they get on the subject of relationship. But that’s not all. I also see other parts of my life proving this stuff I share works.

I’ve said this before: The best place to meet our match is in our daily life. Not at a bar. Not online. It’s more fun too. I always ask my clients this question early on: If you had your choice, which would you prefer: Meeting your ideal match spontaneously – doing what you love – or through an online dating site or in a bar?

Every client, transgender or trans-attracted gives the same answer: it’s just more fun meeting your match in that lovely, spontaneous way. The same way the Universe will give us everything else we want. But to have those experiences, we gotta tell the right stories so we become matches to what we want.

Then we won’t have to go out looking for our partner. She (or he, or they) will come to us. In the same way my clients experience it. And now, in the same way I have.

Want your perfect match to come to you? I’m here, ready to help.

[little-needy-kitten]

Just a little update, I fucked him. My flat mate from the other post. We fucked. But like ages ago in September. We were all over each other back then. He would sleep in my bed. Touch my knee in front of people. Very possessive of me. Idk what happened but he stopped. Like Suddenly. Like something happened. And we haven’t done anything since then. He kisses me sometime and chokes me but nothing further. I want him to fuck me so bad. I miss him on my sheets. The smell of him in my room. Nowadays we just smoke weed together and that’s it.

In the mean time there is another guy, let’s call him Matt. He’s kind of like my rebound. And I am his. We fuck sometimes and it’s great. He’s a great lay. And he’s extremely hot and he never makes me suck his dick or anything. He always does me. He’s great to me and funny and extremely hot but I can’t help but think about HIM when we have sex together.

Does he have sex with other women? No. I’m sure he doesn’t. He’s either in his room alone or at work or at class. I make sure he doesn’t have anybody else. I’m 99.9% sure I’m the last girl he’s fucked. I make sure he doesn’t get anybody else. Whenever we go to the club and he sees someone he likes and they get to dance very suggestively, I always jump in between and I ALWAYS make sure to make out with her in front of him. And they always make out with me back. I don’t know why I do it. Power move? The sheer let down and anger on his face is enough for me. After that happens and I see his face after I made out with the girl she wanted, I don’t need sex. It’s so euphoric to me.

Maybe this is why he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore. Because I’m so fucked up already (in the head)

There was a girl just this Tuesday. I got kicked out the club so I couldn’t prevent it but there was a girl that came with us to the night club. I don’t remember her name. I don’t care about her name. But he was so desperately trying to get with her. It was so pathetic. He was like a hungry dog. It was disgusting. Well I get kicked out and then he sends me a video of them making out. Ofc I didn’t reply but it pissed me off. And I’m pretty sure he knew that too.

We’re gonna go on a bender this week so that should be fun. Maybe he’ll fuck me this time. Fucking tease.