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thesummerpetrichor · 9 days

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𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂

Father in law!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. It’s hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his son’s wrong doings. Aka fiancé’s dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Can’t wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!

Masterlist

You rich and I'm wishin', um

You could be my mister, yum

Delicious to the maximum

Chew you up like bubble gum

You love me, he wants me

I think I want you too

Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the Peñas, especially Peña senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness.

The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmother’s silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed.

Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadn’t taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being.

How thoughtful.

Of course, you were the pathetic one– unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldn’t breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the “happiest day of your life” outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering.

You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldn’t manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser.

After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over.

For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through.

Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. You’d heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partner’s life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier Peña’s lack of responsibility and good parenting.

What you didn’t expect, was to find that Javi Peña was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriend’s shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you weren’t expecting Peña Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws.

That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law.

Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust.

Any other day a man like him wouldn’t have needed much to woo you– with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few “pretty girls” and “poor things” and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family.

Fucking pathetic.

But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.

“He’s a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezin’ me so fuckin good. Bet he didn’t fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didn’t make ya cum over and over, make ya scream… stupid fuckin boy..” Javier’s grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock.

Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javier’s hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. “Look- Look at ya- fuckin cryin’ on my cock. ‘S the only reason ya’ shoulda’ be cryin’ in this pretty dress..” With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflection– stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javi’s cock has been nudging your sweetspot.

You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. “Look at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.”

“Yours-” you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javi’s hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depraved– you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive.

The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting.

Javi’s voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up..” The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you can’t help but moan. “Yeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?” the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like he’s doing now.

Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it..

“Please daddy, want your babies, wanna be yours…” Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he can’t understand what you're even saying. To be honest you can’t be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on.

“Yeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..” you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. “Wanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wife” you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, you’ve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problem– especially with the way Javi’s tip continues to kiss your sweet spot.

“Yes daddy, please..”

Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. “Won't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like you– so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.”

With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think you’d even want to sound out his incompetent son’s name after he’s done with you.

As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. “Want ya to be drippin with me.” the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of you– down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane.

“He’s fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight ‘round me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckin’ wishes she was you.” His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. “My girl’s gonna be the perfect lil’ mamma, aren’t ya, so fuckin’ pretty.” You would certainly like that- in fact you’re almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you.

“Gonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.” your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down.

“Thats my fucking girl.” That growl of his sends shivers down your spine– possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles you– firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son.

He’s nothing like his son.

“Yeah, bet it feels good don’t it, bein’ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..” You shake your head ‘no’ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence.

“Make me go fuckin’ crazy, babygirl.”

What he says is fucking filthy, there’s no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more.

“Think you wanna go back to him? With daddy’s cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?”

“Gonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddy’s room in the middle of the night? All wet an’ achy? Beggin’ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?”

“Wanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya full’ve my cum every single night?”

His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high.

You know you're close, you can’t hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation.

“Come for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.”

Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javi’s name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddy’s.

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javi’s hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head.

“Please daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..”

Javi’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down.

You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again.

Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him.

“You really want daddy’s babies?” Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod.

“Then I ain’t done with ya yet pretty girl.” You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. You’re not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights.

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

I'm neon phosphorescent

Open like a Christmas present, oh

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

If you're seeking heaven

Then you wanna come and get it alright

Be my daddy tonight

What's up what's up

Be my daddy be my daddy

Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight

AHHHHH feel like I’m going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. I’d love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

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apoemaday · 1 month

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The Conditional

by Ada Limón

Say tomorrow doesn’t come. Say the moon becomes an icy pit. Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified. Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire. Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks. Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain. Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter. Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse. Say we never get to see it: bright future, stuck like a bum star, never coming close, never dazzling. Say we never meet her. Never him. Say we spend our last moments staring at each other, hands knotted together, clutching the dog, watching the sky burn. Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive, right here, feeling lucky.

#poetry #ada limón #the conditional

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andvys · 3 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! slight angst, only a tiny bit of sadness, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, mentions of loss and death, smut, pool sex, unprotected sex, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve get lost in your own little world, a delusion in which you both have what you want, if only you knew how to talk, how to communicate.

Word count: 11.6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult we've been talking about this moment since February and now we're here aaahhhh! thanks for helping me and for putting the smut idea in my head, it's been living rent free in there for the past few months, thanks for writing with me hehe ily

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

Steve was dying of boredom. Mrs. Click’s voice sounded through the room that was filled with other bored students, the girl next to him that he never bothered to learn the name of was chewing her gum obnoxiously as she was sketching in her notebook, she smelled like weed and a strong perfume, it was giving him a headache.

He looked at the clock and sighed, forty minutes to go…

He couldn’t wait for the bell to ring and go home, watch a movie and eat the pasta his mom made the night before.

Steve leaned back and tapped his fingers against the book he didn’t even bother to open when Mrs. Click told everyone to flip to page 137. He looked to his left, at the girl sitting by the window, listening attentively and taking notes the way he should have been doing too.

Just the sight of you angered him and he didn’t even know why, but something in his chest burned every time he looked at you and it frustrated him to no end. And yet, he never stopped himself from looking, from taking in the sight of you and how soft your skin looked, how pretty your eyes were, how nice your clothes fit you and how stunning you always were, even when you ditched your pretty dress for sweaters and jeans on some days.

Today wasn’t one of those days, you were wearing a skirt, a short one that rode up on your thighs, it made his eyes spark with interest, it made him look closer at you, he sat up straighter and leaned his elbows on the table.

Your eyebrows were scrunched together, your glossy lips puckered, your eyelashes kissed your skin every time you blinked, your hair laid so prettily on your shoulder, curled at the ends, he wondered how much time you spent on it, did you sleep with rollers in your hair? Or did you get up early just to style it?

Your skin was glowing and he swore that he could smell your sweet perfume even from a distance. Every time you passed him, he breathed in your scent and made the burning in his chest feel worse than before but he couldn’t help it, you smelled so good.

He kept staring at you and questions started running through his mind.

Why do you have to be so beautiful?

Why do you have such pretty lashes?

Why do you bite your lip like that?

Why does his heart beat so weirdly every time he sees you?

It’s not fair, it’s bullshit.

Your eyes, your smile, your hair, your lips, your pretty face, your stupid rings, your scent, your beauty… it’s not fair.

Your presence always made him huff in irritation and yet, he never bothered to look the other way or avoid you.

He always stared, every chance he got, he stared, just like now.

But then, you turned your head and your eyes locked with his, you caught him staring and it made his cheeks heat up. He shifted in his seat as you gave him a look of confusion, your puckered lips turning downwards, your eyebrows scrunching together even more.

He should’ve looked away and pretended like nothing happened but he didn’t, he raised his brows at you and curled his lips into a smirk, an action that made you roll your eyes before you turned back to your notebook.

He almost felt disappointed at the loss of your attention, but then you flipped a page and leaned closer to the table, you quickly scribbled something into your notebook, it made him curious and it made him crane his neck a little but he couldn’t see what you were writing. You then ripped the paper out and folded it, you looked at Mrs. Click before you turned back to him and threw the note on his table without giving him as much of a glance.

Something in his chest stirred as he picked it up, still looking at you before he gave his full attention to the paper in his hand, he unfolded it and furrowed his brows as he looked at your pretty handwriting before he even read what you wrote.

What are you looking at perv?

Steve almost laughed, he didn’t expect anything else from you. He shook his head and smirked as he folded the note back together and threw it in his pencil case. He ripped off a piece of paper from his own notebook and started writing without thinking.

You.

A simple ‘you’, that’s all. He wanted to see how you would react, what you would say back, if you would take it as a chance to flirt with the King, if you would use the opportunity any other girl would use.

He looked around and ignored the curious looks from Tommy as he threw the note on your table, it landed right in front of you and you wasted no time unfolding it, you looked over your shoulder at him, a deadpan look on your pretty face. You sighed and turned back.

Steve straightened in his seat, he pressed his lips together as he watched you and the way you held your breath, the way you stared at the paper for a moment, tensely and then, you huffed and crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in your case just the way he did. You started writing hastily and made him more curious when you stopped for a second before you continued.

His heart jumped when he got the second note, just like the first time, he quickly unfolded it and read it with excitement bubbling in his chest.

Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?

Of course you would not take the bait and give into his curiosity but he found himself craving for more, you sparked his interest, so he picked up the pen again.

What makes you think I’m flirting with you, Blondie? Maybe I just like looking at you.

He should have seen the way you halted your breath, the way you stared at the note a little longer than you did at the last one.

And here I thought you only like to look at yourself…

He snorted at that and earned a pointed look from Mrs. Click, he instantly straightened his back and pretended to listen to her, scared of getting caught, he didn’t want this to end just yet. A sigh of relief fell from his lips once she turned her attention back to the book in front of her.

No, I quite like looking at the skirt you’re wearing today

Steve swore that you grew flustered at this note, you even glanced down at the skirt and took a few deep breaths before you wrote back to him.

Like I said… perv.

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. A part of him was amused, the other… not so much but before he could write back, the bell rang and everyone around him started gathering their stuff and hurrying to leave the classroom, including you. You picked up your notebook and got up, you smoothed down your skirt and left without sparing him a single glance.

But Steve wanted more. He gathered his things and jumped up, not bothering to wait for Tommy, he hurried after you and watched the way your skirt swayed and your hair bounced. He licked his lips and cleared his throat as he caught up to you, he glanced down at you with a cocky smirk on his face, one that made you roll your eyes again.

“What do you want, perv?”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m not a perv.”

“You’re not?” You tilted your head at him, cutely. “Then why are you staring at my skirt and making comments about it?”

He shrugged and looked down at it before his eyes moved up your body, “maybe I just really like it.”

You rolled your eyes again and laughed – a sound that made him feel something in his stomach.

“I fear you can’t borrow it, it won’t even fit around your big square head.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes and yet, he couldn’t even help but snort at your insult, they were so very different from the ones he threw at you sometimes.

“My head isn’t square…”

“Yes it is,” you giggled and gave him a smirk as you eyed him.

Evil.

“You look like a lego figure, you have a lego head.”

He shook his head at you, though the amused smile lingered on his face, even as he took notice of all the prying eyes on you and him, he heard the whispers, saw the girls that eyed him and then you before they leaned towards each other to make up some new gossip, a part of him felt irritated and annoyed but the other part of him that loved the attention, couldn’t care less about what they would say about him or you.

You stopped at your locker and gave him a weird look when he stopped too, he leaned against the locker next to yours and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you fidget with your lock. He looked at your hands, how much smaller they were than his and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander the way his eyes did as they roamed every inch of you while you were busy putting your stuff into your locker.

Usually he did not allow himself to see you as anything other than a girl he disliked but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he allowed himself to see you as something other than that, as something more.

He licked his lips as he looked at your soft skin, his fingers itched to touch your hair, wondering if they felt just as soft as they looked. He breathed in the scent of your perfume and felt something stir inside of him.

You turned towards him and he didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, your lips twisted into a downturned smile, you raised your brows at him and shrugged.

“Okay, what do you want from me, Harrington?” You asked, the strap of your backpack now over your shoulder and you slammed your locker before you crossed your arms over your chest. “Is this a dare or something or why are you staring at me like some creep?”

He felt his cheeks heat up a little, a shyness he usually never felt tugged at his emotions but his arrogance was still in control.

“I’m bored,” he shrugged and let his eyes linger on your lips as his mind continued to wander.

You rolled your eyes at him and huffed, pointing your finger around you, gesturing to the students, to the girls that stared at you in envy at this moment.

“Well, I’m sure one of them will keep you entertained,” you mumbled and took a step forward, “they are practically begging on their knees for your attention, don’t leave ‘em waiting.” You patted him on his chest before you stepped away from him.

He turned to face you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“What if I want you to keep me entertained?” He asked teasingly with a cocky, playful smirk on his lips, one that made you blink and sigh.

“Dream on, King Steve,” you smirked and looked over his shoulder at something behind him, “gotta be more creative with your dares, your stupid friends are way too obvious.”

He furrowed his brows and turned around to see what you were looking at, he found Tommy and Carol watching the two of you with a smirk on their lips, giggles falling from Carol’s mouth. Steve rolled his eyes at them and sighed.

“Listen, that wasn’t–” he stopped talking when he found you long gone and away from him and watched as you walked away, “a dare…” He mumbled to himself, he sighed again and looked down once you were out of sight. His notebook and pencil case were still in his hand, your notes tucked safely in the case – where they stayed for a while.

“Steve!”

Your giggles make him smile so widely that it makes his cheeks ache but he can’t stop, not when you continue blessing him with your sweet laughter, your hands are on his shoulders, holding on tightly as his fingers dig into your sides, he peppers your neck with kisses, smacking his lips against the skin over and over.

You are squirming underneath him, your dress riding up in the process as you both lie on the big couch in your living room, the movie playing on the TV long forgotten, your snacks discarded on the table, your attention is fully on each other, your lips locking every few seconds as your hands wander across his shoulders, over his back, down his arms and finally melting into his hands, your heart skipping several beats when he entwines his fingers with yours.

Steve squeezes your hands and he dives in deeper into your neck, kissing and smiling against your skin.

“That tickles!” You giggle again, your eyes begin to water from all the laughter.

He chuckles against you and pecks your neck one more time before he pulls back to kiss your jaw instead, then your cheek and finally your lips, humming against you when you kiss him back immediately. Your breaths mingle together, your lips mold against each other, softly yet passionately, you are chest to chest, hands clinging to one another.

You let go of one hand and place your palm on his back, sliding it up to his shoulder and squeezing it before you sink your fingers into his already messy hair.

Steve sighs into the kiss and tightens his hold on your hand as he parts your thighs with his knee, not to take this any further but to feel you closer and you welcome him happily, not initiating anything else either, this feels good, this feels nice, this is enough.

Your whimper makes his stomach flutter, a smile tugs at his lips as you play with his hair. Your hands feel so good on him, so perfect, so right. His heart skips a beat when you push yourself up and press yourself further against him, parting his lips with your tongue, you deepen the kiss in need to feel him even closer.

Your hands roam his body and his roam yours, sighs and whimpers sound through the room as you make out on your couch, growing more and more breathless, only when it gets too much do you break the kiss and pull away from one another. You lay your head back on the pillow and open your eyes to see him staring at you already, a soft smile on his swollen lips, eyes hooded and laced with softness, his cheeks are pink and his hair is messy from all your tugging. Steve makes your heart flutter when he presses another soft kiss to your lips and cups the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone as he gazes down at you in a way only a special one should do.

“Hi Blondie,” he whispers sweetly.

You raise your hand up towards his face, brushing back his spitcurl before you trail your finger down to his lips, “hey, Lego Head.”

His eyes crinkle in amusement, a chuckle falls from his pretty lips, “wow, way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle at him and it makes him continue.

“You haven’t used that one in a while.”

“Mhmm, did you miss it?” You tease him, knowing how much he hated the nickname you gave him on a random school day.

“Hmm, it kinda grew on me,” he admits, smiling down at you, “but I kinda prefer it when you call me Stevie.”

“Stevie? That only happens when I’m drunk.”

“Yeah,” he whispers and tugs your hair behind your ear, still smiling as his eyes trace your features, “guess I gotta get you drunk again.”

“Why?” You giggle and furrow your brows at him, “so I’ll call you Stevie again?”

“Yeah, and so I can have sweet Blondie again,” he smirks, “you’re so nice and adorable when you’re drunk.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words but you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Are you saying I’m normally not adorable?” You joke and pout at him and push him back so you can stand up, heart beating faster at the groan of protest and the tightness of his hold on your waist when you try to get up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” He asks, frowning at you when you place your hand on top of his and gently remove it from your waist.

“I’m starving, I’m gonna see what I have in the fridge.”

Steve nods and wastes no time to get up and follow you into the kitchen, admiring the way your little sundress fits your body, the way it hugs your waist and sways around your hips as you walk. Your hair matches the state of his own, messy and disheveled from the previous makeout session.

When you open the fridge, you let out a loud sigh and look over your shoulder, “uh… I kinda forgot to do the groceries.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, chuckling at the expression on your face, he steps closer to you and places his hands on your waist as he takes a look inside, finding nothing more than fruit, drinks, condiments and cheese, “yeah, that won’t do.”

You sigh again and close the fridge, turning around to face him while his hands are still on your waist.

“Yeah…”

“Well, let’s go out then,” Steve shrugs as the idea of taking you to a restaurant fills him with excitement and giddiness.

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen.

“W-Where?”

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks take on a deeper shade.

“T-To eat. We can uh– go to a sushi restaurant, I’ve always wanted to try… Have you ever tried sushi…?” He stutters and blushes.

“Y-You wanna go out with me… in public?” You ask, cringing at how shaky and small your own voice sounds.

His lips twitch, curling into a smile as he nods.

“We uh… We could go out of town, there are no sushi restaurants in Hawkins, Blondie.” His words left his mouth so casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest and he isn’t filled with the same nervousness he felt as a teenage boy. He feels as though he is asking you out on a date… and maybe he is, maybe he’d like to pretend that he is.

“You mean to Indianapolis?”

Steve nods. He wants to leave Hawkins for a while, even if just for one night, he wants to be able to go out with you without feeling the need to hide, he wants to hold your hand in public and kiss you breathless on the streets, he wants to hold you close and show you off as if you were his.

He wants it all with you and he wants it here too, in his hometown, where anyone could see but he still doesn’t know how you feel, he feels hopeful but he is still in the dark about your feelings.

“It's the closest city we got.”

“It’s an hour trip!”

His heart melts at the bewildered, cute look on your face, the excitement that lingers in your eyes as your lips start curling into a smile.

“So?” Steve shrugs and squeezes your waist, “we got all night.”

Your heart is racing and everything inside of you flutters in excitement. Your cheeks are burning and you feel the giddiness of a girl that’s been asked out on a date by the boy she likes. You can’t even hide the smile that appears on your face, brightly and happily.

“I need to get changed then!” You beam at him as you already step away, not giving him the chance to protest or say anything else before you walk out of the kitchen, “I’ll be down in a minute!”

Steve listens to the sound of your footsteps as you rush up the stairs, leaving him in your kitchen with a pounding heart and a huge smile on his lips. He looks up at the ceiling, an accomplished and joyful feeling rushing through him, he can’t help but do a silent fist pump.

This is going to be a date, an unofficial one, but still a date.

He can’t fight the grin off his lips, the giddy feeling settling into his whole body. He walks back into the hallway and takes a look at himself, your lipstick is smudged on his skin and his lips, his hair is a mess, created by you, his cheeks are glowing from all the happiness inside of him.

He fixes his hair and wipes the pink lipstick off his skin before he makes his way into your living room to turn off the TV and put away the snacks you both had earlier.

You come back down fifteen minutes later, changed into a new dress and your makeup reapplied, your hair fixed and a small purse in your hand. You meet in the hallway, keys already in his hand, and he’s leaning against the door.

Steve’s heart goes wild at the sight of you in your new sundress, your glossy lips tugged into a smile, the urge to pull you into a kiss pushes him towards you.

He whistles playfully, making you roll your eyes with a giggle.

“Getting all pretty for me now?” He teases, acting cocky as though his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest.

You always get pretty for him.

“I’ve been dying to wear this dress,” you say, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you twirl around to reveal your open back to him, not knowing how crazy you drive him with your action.

Steve’s stomach flutters, his hands instantly itch to touch your bare skin, you look so beautiful.

He takes a step closer to you and grabs your waist, humming, “that’s a pretty dress, I can’t wait to see it on my bedroom floor though.”

Your cheeks burn and despite it, you giggle as you turn around to face him, “is that a King Steve pickup line?”

He shakes his head, “no, he never said such things.”

“Sure,” you snort and tug at his hand, pulling him towards the door, “come on now, I’m starving!”

Steve chuckles and nods, reaching for his car keys on the dresser, he squeezes your hand, “yeah, come on, before you get grumpy.”

“I never get grumpy,” you argue as your lips curl into a pout that he instantly feels the urge to kiss.

“You always get grumpy when you’re hungry,” he laughs. He loves it.

Steve opens the door for you, giving you a sweet smile as he looks down at your pretty face. You step out and he follows, admiring the way your dress hugs your body, the way your skin glows beneath the evening sun, the way your hair shines, your perfume lingers in the air and he can’t help but breathe it in deeply, just the way he always did.

Your hand fits in his so perfectly, like it belongs there… and to him it does.

You look over your shoulder, giving him a cute smile that leaves him breathless. The golden light that shines down on you turns his breathing shaky, no words could describe your beauty, nothing comes close to it, absolutely nothing. You are stunning, bewitching, you are a goddess and he worships every inch of your being and you don’t even know it.

He wishes he could scream out those three big words, kiss you breathless and show you just how much he adores you but he can’t, he is too afraid, he fears rejection so deeply, so all that he can do is pretend, pretend that you are already his and live in this small delusion for as long as he can. He opens the door for you and winks at you, fighting the urge to kiss your hand before he lets go of you and closes the door only to grab your hand again once he is seated in the driver's seat, you lace your fingers together and squeeze his hand, unaware of the feelings you leave him with, with your sweet action.

When he turns on the music and a smile appears on your face, you sink deeper into the seat and get comfortable, a content look on your pretty features. You look so perfect sitting in his passenger seat, next to him, holding his hand, enjoying the music as you look out the window when he drives down the road.

This is where you belong, this is what he wants, you by his side, for tonight and for always, he wants you to be his, his girl.

This isn’t enough, it never was, this was never just about sex.

There was never an ounce of hatred for you in his bones, not in high school and not after.

He felt bitterness, confusion, denial but most of all, he felt jealousy, he always did and he never understood why you didn’t like him, why you bickered with him, why you laughed at his poor flirting attempts, why you didn’t want him the way every other girl did, why you showed up for Lucas’s game but not a single one of his – that night isn’t one he likes to think back on, it makes him cringe and shudder in annoyance at himself for what he said to you, he let his emotions, his jealousy, his frustrations control the words his mouth left.

He didn’t know that you were a friend of Max and Lucas, he didn’t know that you showed up for her, and for him, knowing that his friends were too busy with Eddie’s D&D campaign. He didn’t know why you were there, but when he saw you on the bleachers and he caught you waving at Lucas, whose eyes lit up when he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel jealous because why did you show up for a freshman, for a kid? Why did you never show up to any of his games? Why didn’t you give him the chance to show off?

He felt irritated, even more so when he saw you talking to Lucas in the parking lot, smiling at him and congratulating him on his successful first game.

He remembers the way he marched over to you, the way he started bickering with you instead of praising the teen he showed up for.

“Are you so desperate for attention that you go for a freshman now?”

He cringes at himself, even now, disgusted at the words he threw at you.

You looked so hurt and angry, you pushed him away from you and he never blamed you for it, you could’ve slapped him right there, he deserved it.

He felt guilty right then and there but that emotion intensified when only a few days later he found out about your sisterly bond with Max and your friendship with both of them, you cared for them and protected them just the way he did. Before he knew that, he made himself believe that you were just a loner, a person too cold to feel anything, even platonic, he wanted to believe that he wasn’t some unimportant person that you crossed paths with, that you were simply unable to form bonds or relationships but that wasn’t the case, you had people you cared for, you had friends you would die for, you just didn’t want to give him a chance, not platonically and especially not romantically.

He was jealous of anyone who was close to you, who was special to you but back then, he didn’t allow himself to explore the depth of those emotions that always lingered inside of him when it came to you.

Now he can see them, he can feel them, he can admit that he was jealous and hurt because he is no longer ashamed to like, love you — someone who might not feel the same. But whatever the outcome of this affair will be, he doesn’t regret letting all those feelings in, especially now that you are here with him, like this, holding his hand and letting him take you out and show you off in public.

He is allowed to feel hopeful now, he thinks.

Indianapolis is big and no town people, no friends, no prying eyes will be there to see you both but you could have still easily said no to his suggestion because who goes out to eat with their supposedly casual hook up? But then again, what is casual about you both?

Not even your first night together was casual.

You kissed and held each other close from the very beginning.

You stay over, you cuddle, you hold hands, even in public and when you are sure that no one is looking, you sleep in his arms and you make each other breakfast, you make sure that his favorite drinks and snacks are in your kitchen and he does the same for you, his bathroom and his bedroom are filled with things that belong to you.

This isn’t casual, the signs are there and they are so very clear, tonight especially, when you make it to the city and you walk through the busy streets where it’s much more crowded and louder than it is in your small hometown, you keep close to him and hold onto his hand tightly as you lead him to the sushi restaurant that you have told him about on the drive here, the one you went to with your parents and your sister every time you visited your grandparents in the city.

So many things go through Steve’s mind and so many emotions rush through him as you walk side by side, hand in hand with the city lights shining down on you both as the sun disappears more and more. He feels free, like he can do anything, like he can kiss you right here, right now, without needing to hide or drag you to a secret corner, he feels giddy, happy, he can’t even hide the smile on his face.

Once you make it to your destination, Steve lets go of your hand and places it on the small of your back instead, he opens the door and keeps his palm pressed against your body. He is so lost in his happy bubble, he doesn’t even notice the blush taking over your face when he wraps his arm around you and rests his palm on your hip instead as he leads you inside.

It’s crowded but he didn’t expect any less from a restaurant in a big city, he doesn’t seem to mind though and neither do you, especially when you get one of the booth tables, tucked away in the very back, next to a big window where you can see the city lights.

You sit down across from one another, smiling from ear to ear as you look into each other’s eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers, making you giggle.

“Hi.”

His honey eyes look so pretty in this golden light, his hair looks softer than ever, his smile so big and bright that it fills you with hope, especially when it stays as his eyes trace your face, he is staring at you even though he could be staring at this pretty setting around you, at the decorated room, the string lights over you, the city lights, but no, he is staring at you and he is making you feel special.

A sheepish smile takes over your face, a shyness that you rarely ever feel flushing through you, the look in his eyes is so intense that you can’t help but be the first to break contact. You lean back and cross your legs, looking around the restaurant you used to eat dinners at with your family.

Nostalgia comes over you when a family of four catches your eye, sitting at a round table, they seem to be in a lively conversation, the two little girls laughing with their father as their mother shakes her head with a smile on her face.

Steve follows your gaze when he notices the sad but soft look in your eyes. Something tugs at his chest when he takes a look at the family you are watching and suddenly your eyes aren’t the only ones filled with sadness.

He leans closer to the table, placing his palm above your hand.

“Are you okay?” He asks, watching the way you tilt your head at him, the softness in your eyes never leaving. “I mean, are you okay to be here… right now… with me?”

There is no one else you would rather be with here.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you nod, glancing down at his hand, he is now rubbing circles into your skin, “and yes, I want to be here with you,” you admit, knowing how vulnerable you can make yourself look with such words.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, his lips curl back into a smile.

Steve keeps holding your hand, not letting go, not even when he decides to look at the menu, not even when the waiter stops at your table to take your orders, not when your drinks arrive a few minutes later, he keeps holding on and you let him.

Curiosity sparks in him when he notices the way you keep looking back at the family, a look in your eyes that signalizes the feeling of longing.

“Blondie?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod, “anything.”

You’re close enough to ask each other questions that won’t make the other uncomfortable and that is something Steve greatly appreciates, knowing that you weren’t here months back, not even close.

Steve blinks, taking a few shaky breaths, he keeps his hand on yours, tracing the ring on your middle finger. He clears his throat and looks down, ignoring the strong beating of his heart and the nervousness bubbling in his stomach.

“Do you uh… do you ever think about it?”

You look at him with big, curious eyes and it’s not helping his case at all.

“Think about what?”

“Kids.”

You furrow your brows at his question but you smile softly and you don’t hesitate to nod, not even needing time to think about it.

“I honestly want to… I miss having a big family, you know?” You pause and look down at his hand, wondering what it would be like if he had a ring on his fourth finger, one that would match your own. “I don’t care if it’s one or many, I just… I really want a family, one that is here with me, all the time.”

Steve’s big hazel eyes soften and flicker with deep emotions. His heart skips a beat as warmth settles in his chest.

He didn’t think he could fall even harder for you, even deeper but now as he looks at you, as he holds your hand and looks into your pretty eyes, he knows that he will never stop falling, there is no end, no limit when it comes to his feelings, to his love for you.

A future lies before his eyes, a future with you, rings, cradles, a white picket fence, kids that look like you and him. He sees something, something that is in reach, something that he hopes for, something that he wants with you without a single doubt.

“You will have it all, Blondie.”

You don’t know what to make of his words but whatever the feelings behind them are, you know that they are not what you want them to be, no matter how much his feelings for you changed, no matter how much hope there is in you, no matter how big it is, you can’t believe that the thing you have now, could be one for the future too and not only the present.

You don’t know what to say without revealing your feelings to him, you want this with him and he can’t know, he just can’t.

To your relief, the waiter brings your food to the table, taking Steve’s attention away from your face. You let go of each other's hands, thanking and smiling at the waiter.

“That looks amazing,” Steve murmurs as he looks at the plates in front of the both of you, reaching for the chopsticks, he looks down at them, growing a little nervous, he never used them before.

“It does,” you nod with a smile on your face, “hey, this is special, Steve. I’m getting my first sushi with you.” You say with a giggle, making his chest flutter.

“I thought you had some before.”

“Yeah, stole some from my dad but I never actually had a plate for myself,” you chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad we share some firsts together then because I never tried them before, at all,” he grins.

You can tell by the way he is holding the chopsticks wrongly, looking down at them with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He looks so cute like this but a part of you wants to laugh even though you can’t even use them properly yourself. You have seen your dad using them every time you came here to eat, but you never tried it yourself.

“I can tell,” you murmur, unable to hide the giggle when he tries to pick up a roll but fails to do so.

He snorts and shoots you a playful glare.

“Go ahead, and show me then, Blondie,” he smirks at you, pointing at your plate.

You clear your throat and place your chopsticks between your index and middle finger, you can already feel your cheeks heating up beneath his gaze. You press your thumb against the chopstick and bite your lip in concentration, glancing at him for a second to see him staring at you, making the warmth in your cheeks grow hotter.

“See?” You grin as you pinch your food gently, growing confident when you manage to pick up the sushi despite the shakiness in your hands.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling softly.

You go to dip it in the soy sauce when your shaky hands lose control and your sushi plops into the sauce loudly, splattering over your plate but luckily not on your dress. You press your lips together and look into his eyes, you stare at one another for a moment before you both burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Steve chuckles in amusement, “you’re a great teacher, honey.”

“Shut up,” you giggle and try to pick it up again.

“Guess we gotta learn together,” he shrugs with a smile on his face.

You do, you learn together and you share jokes and laugh at each other every time you fail, but once you get the hang out of it, you fall into a conversation about your parents, you tell him stories of the times they brought you and your sister into the city and Steve listens attentively, smiling at you and feeling grateful that you feel comfortable enough to bring him here and to talk about them – and you, you are surprised yourself when you don’t feel the cold sadness in you that you always felt every time you even mentioned them, talking about them with Steve feels… comforting, he is comforting.

His knees touch yours beneath the table, the material of his jeans brushing your bare skin, his hand is close to yours, his pinky touching your own. He smiles at you, he laughs with you, he makes silly jokes and feeds you his food, his eyes never stray away from you, there is only you for him right now and as the realization strikes you, you grow hopeful again, your heart skips a beat at the thought that this could be something like… a date.

You both want the same thing, though what neither of you realize is that you aren’t acting like two nervous people who finally managed to score a date with that one person, you are acting like a couple, not a single awkward moment follows you both, you are talking and laughing with each other like you’re best friends.

“I have this theory…” Steve says before he takes a sip of his coke.

You cock your head to the side, “please continue.”

He places his glass back on the table and picks up his chopsticks again, he chuckles before he opens his mouth once more, “that Dustin is copying Eddie.”

“What?” You laugh.

“Hear me out, for the past few weeks… Have you seen Dustin’s change of style!? He is wearing all black now! And his hair? It’s fucking long!” He exclaims, shaking his head.

You’re a little amused by his sudden outburst, by the confused and slightly irritated look on his face, it’s cute.

“Well, he sees Eddie as a role model, so?”

"Excuse me?” He scoffs, not liking your words, not liking that the boy that once looked up to him found someone else, someone better to look up to.

You squint your eyes at him and lean closer to the table, cupping your cheek as you smile, “Steve, is it just me or are you jealous of Eddie?”

He scoffs again, waving his hand at you, “nonsense.”

“You’re jealous that he stole Dustin from you.”

Steve shakes his head at you, “I’m not jealous, I’m just saying that– he is following Eddie like some lost puppy, copying him fully! What if he takes on smoking?”

A laugh tumbles from your lips and Steve can’t even fight the smile off his lips when your soft eyes glow with amusement.

“Really? He is fifteen, Steve! You were hosting parties at that age and getting drunk, he is not the twelve year old you once met.”

Steve laughs, he leans back in his seat and sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “yeah, I forget that sometimes, he’s not a kid anymore… he’s a teenager,” he chuckles, furrowing his eyebrows, “but come on… Eddie? Eddie’s sense of style? Is Dustin insane?”

You roll your eyes at him, still amused by him.

“So, you want him to wear polo shirts and cardigans instead?”

His lips part and he pretends to be offended, “hey! You like my polo shirts!”

“Yeah, not the point here.”

Steve tilts his chin up, smirking at you, “you admit that you like them then?”

You chuckle, shaking your head and hiding your face behind your hair as you start blushing again which prompts him to continue his teasing as he begins to reminisce about your shared days at school, leaving out the saddening memories and only talking of the good ones, the funny ones, memories of your childhood, of your time in kindergarten and middle school and how long you have been a part of each other’s lives and when you leave the restaurant after a long time, you reach for each other’s hands and entwine your fingers together without even thinking about it.

You stroll through the city and kiss on the streets, like he wanted to all night and it makes you both smile, it makes you feel happy and free and Steve can’t wait for the day when he will find the courage to ask you out on a real date, to ask you to be more than this, to be his, like he pretends you are now as you stand beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by people, surrounded by the sounds of the city and he can’t stop kissing you, not even when you continue your way to his car, he keeps pulling you into kisses, pressing his lips to yours, to your cheeks, to your hands, to your neck, over and over again, making you giggle and blush at his sweet actions. He’s drunk on you, he is so in love with you that he can’t contain it, he has to show it in some way, he has to let it out, even if not in words.

Steve holds your hand on your way home, he kisses you at every red light and he sings along to The Smiths, you don’t think that you have ever seen him so carefree and relaxed before.

And Steve, he had never felt this happy before, nothing, no one can compare to you, to the way you make him feel, to the love he feels for you, to the happiness that flickers in him every time you reach for his hand or bless him with a sweet smile after pressing your lips to his. Those three words that are on the tip of his tongue, beg to be released and he is so close to doing it, so damn close.

You’re waving your hand in front of your face when you step inside his house, the heat of the summer night feeling too warm on your skin and Steve’s hands on your waist aren’t making it any better, worsening second by second, especially when he keeps making you laugh with his silly comments.

“I need to cool off.”

Steve brushes his fingers through your hair and tucks it behind your ears, “cool off? Why, am I this hot?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You snort and place your hands on his chest and run your finger down his stomach, hooking it around his belt, “you’re such a dork.”

Your dork.

His lips curl into a smirk, he leans down close enough that your noses brush, “mhm, you like it though.”

Yes, you do, you really do.

You gaze into his honey eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne, getting lost in his touch as his hands hold your waist.

“You know what else I’d like?” You whisper against his lips as you give him a soft kiss, making his breathing hitch and his heart stammer.

“Hmm?”

Steve blinks at you, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

“A cold beer.”

He chuckles, he expected something else but he can’t complain, not when you give him another short kiss.

You bite your lip and step away from him, letting his hands fall to his sides. You bring your hands up to the buttons of your dress, walking backwards slowly and continuing to gaze into his eyes with mischief in yours, you undo the top buttons, revealing your new bra to him. You almost giggle at his parted lips and the hunger in his eyes.

Steve gulps as you expose more and more of your skin to him, he could fall to his knees right then and there.

“Don’t take too long,” you murmur, winking at him. You walk away from him and into his living room, humming as you turn on the lights in his backyard before you slide open the big glass doors and step outside.

The night is quiet and hot, the only sound coming from the crickets and the slight rustling of the trees as soft wind blows through them and then Steve turns on the stereo in the living room, making you smile. You look up at the starry sky and listen to Steve’s footsteps.

You push the straps of your dress down your shoulders and kick off your shoes, looking over your shoulder to see Steve rushing out with two beers in his hands.

He places them on the table and steps towards you, tutting at you with a playful glare on his pretty face, “could’ve let me take that pretty dress off,” he murmurs and places his hands on your elbows where your straps hang loosely now.

His hands are cold from the beers he picked out of the fridge, goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I didn’t take it off yet,” you shrug, smirking as your hands find their way back to his belt, and you waste no time to unbuckle it.

Steve smirks back at you, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers as he slips the straps down your forearms and pushes your dress down, bunching it around your hips, he sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes grow darker, lustful. It certainly isn’t the first time he sees you like this, but his reaction never changes, his body always reacts to you, just the way his heart does.

You look so beautiful, so goddamn sexy that it drives him crazy.

Not many words are shared between you but the silence is comfortable and your eyes speak enough words as you undress each other, you take his shirt off and place your hand on his chest, staring at him in awe as he pushes your dress down and lets it fall to the ground, his hands touching your bare skin, fingers tracing your lacy underwear.

With hooded eyes he looks down at you and he pulls you closer, “is this little set new?”

You nod, your skin heating up again.

“Looks so pretty,” he murmurs and leans in to press his lips against your neck, “too bad it’s gonna get wet.”

You sigh at the feeling of his kisses, breathing shakily.

You start pushing his jeans down, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “take your pants off, Steve.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles and pushes them down his legs, he quickly steps out of them and bends down, hooking his arm around the back of your knees, he scoops you up into his arms, laughing at the surprised squeal that falls from your lips.

You throw your arms around his neck and hold on tight, looking at him bewildered while he smirks smugly.

“What are you doing?”

He steps closer to the edge of his pool, “what do you think I’m doing?” He chuckles, not giving you time to react before he tightens his hold on you and takes another step forward, jumping into the pool and crashing into the water with you, letting the cold envelope you both.

And you feel it, you feel the freezing water on your skin, the goosebumps that rise and the shivers that ripple through you but not even this takes away the heat you feel inside of you. You taste the chlorine on your lips and you feel his hands on your waist as he pulls you back up with him.

“Is that cool enough for you, honey?” He asks breathily as he wipes his hand down his face and shakes his head to get the water out of his hair.

You giggle and stretch your arms out, “mhm, the water feels nice,” you murmur and tilt your head up, glancing at the stars in the sky, smiling at the sound of one of yours and his favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Steve starts humming along, his eyes tracing your pretty features, your wet hair that still somehow looks just as perfect as it did before, water rolls down your face, your lacy bra now clinging even more to your skin making his hands itch for you.

The water sloshes around him as he moves closer to you, wanting to feel your body back against his but you seem to have different ideas because when you notice him inching closer to you, you give him a teasing smirk before you turn around and start swimming.

“Hey!”

You giggle at the disappointed sound in his voice, that sighs that follows after.

You feel his hand brushing your foot but unable to get a hold of you, you pick up your pace and start swimming faster, pushing against the water stronger, “you can’t catch me, Lego Head.”

He shakes his head, letting out a laugh.

“You think you can get away from me?” He teases, diving deeper into the water, he starts swimming after you, “I was a lifeguard, honey.”

“Yeah, you’ve been bragging about it for three years now,” you snort and dare to take a look over your shoulder, “you must’ve been a bad one, ice cream man.”

He laughs again, amused by your comment and by how you slowed down.

“You’re so funny.”

“I know,” you smirk and turn around again, thinking you can still get away from him but Steve is close, so very close. This time he catches you by your ankle, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back, chuckling at the squeal that falls from your lips, he grabs your waist and embraces you with his arms, pulling against his chest, he holds you tightly, chuckling at the pout on your lips when you look back at him with a frown on your face.

“Not fair,” you whine and wiggle against him which prompts you to press yourself harder into his chest, into his front, you can feel his bulge against your butt, you can feel how hot his skin is despite the cool water, his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips on your neck.

You breathe in shakily, the heat inside of you rushing into your core, making you press your legs together as a deep longing takes over you.

“Guess you’re not that fast after all, huh?” He teases, loving the way your bare skin feels against his. “Didn’t even take me thirty seconds to catch you.”

You hold onto him tighter, glancing at his lips before your eyes lock with his again, “maybe I just let you catch me.”

He chuckles, adoring the way you look at him.

“Yeah sure, Blondie.”

He wraps his arms tighter around your waist as he starts guiding you away from the middle of the pool and towards the stairs.

“So what now, do you plan on drowning me?” You joke.

The water gets lower and lower, exposing your upper body to the cooling wind, making you shiver a little.

“No, too late for that,” he jokes back with a chuckle, “but I am thinking of something.”

You tilt your head to the side and raise your brows at him. He moves away from behind you and reaches for your hand as he takes three steps up the stairs, enough to still be in the water once he sits down before you. He licks his lips as he looks you up and down with need and adoration in his eyes, he admires your body, your curves, you. He pulls you a little closer, the water is still hiding your hips, your legs that he loves having wrapped around his waist and his head.

“What?” You ask softly and curiously.

Steve looks at you with hooded eyes, with cheeks glowing pink and lips begging to be kissed.

“I want to fuck you, right here, right now, in my pool, and–” he rasps, glancing up at the sky above you, he points his finger up, “under the full moon.”

Your eyes widen at his words, butterflies that never die growing wild in your stomach, your kneels almost buckle and you have to press your thighs together.

You follow his gaze and frown when you only see the stars in the sky and the quarter of the moon.

“That’s not a full moon, Steve–” you gasp when you suddenly feel his hands on your waist and he forces you closer, prompting you to straddle his waist. Your knees hit the steps he’s sitting on, your arms wrap around his neck instinctively.

“You’re a stupid moron,” you whisper with no venom in your voice or your eyes.

Steve blinks, smirking at you.

“And you are too naive,” he whispers back, squeezing your waist as you lean into each other, not even noticing that you did as you shared your soft whispers.

You smile at one another, your noses brushes and you close your eyes as your lips meet in a soft kiss, a kiss enough to steal your breath.

You move your palm down his strong shoulder, squeezing his bicep and resting your other hand on his back, deepening the kiss as he parts your lips with his tongue, blessing you with the sound of his moan.

Steve runs his hand down your waist and to your hips, gripping your body tightly, pulling you closer and closer until you’re flush against him. He can’t help but gasp when you grind against his erection, filling him with more need.

Your soft kiss grows faster, hungrier, needy but still passionate and despite the lack of air, you don’t pull away just yet. You run your hand down his hairy chest, his stomach, making him shiver against you. You tug at his boxers, pulling them down just far enough for you to wrap your hand around his dick.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips, continuing to press kisses to your mouth as he tugs at your panties, “let me–”

“No,” you whisper as you jerk him off slowly, pumping him a few times and teasing his slit with your thumb, “I need you.”

You don’t need no preparation, you don’t need his fingers or his tongue, not right now, you only need him, to feel him, all of him.

“F-Fuck,” he breathes shakily, moaning at the feeling of your soft hand around him, “please… I want you, I need you so bad.”

You whimper as his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his words rushing to your heart and your core.

You push your panties to the side and waste no other second to guide him to your entrance, looking into his pleading eyes that watch you in awe as you sink down on him, taking him slowly and moaning out his name in pleasure as your eyebrows scrunch together. The water pressure making it a little harder to do so, and it is a weird yet not unpleasant feeling.

“J-Just like that, baby,” he whimpers, his hands holding you tightly, his eyes flickering between your face and your body, the pleasure in him growing deeper and stronger, “you’re doing so well… fuck… you feel so good,” he groans when he feels your warmth enveloping him fully.

His right hand settles on your lower back, moving up to the middle and the top and then he wraps his hand around the back of your neck so he can pull you even closer, he presses his lips back to yours, pecking them one, two, three times.

“Steve,” you whimper, tears brimming in your eyes from the pleasure in your body, from the size of him. You bite down on your lip and suppress a moan, when you’re fully seated on top of him, you feel a wave of different emotions rushing through you. His kisses, his touches, his hugs and his compliments, the sweet things he says to you, the sweet things he does for you overwhelming you in the best way possible.

Something changed, something was different today, this feels different.

You pull him into an even deeper kiss than before, letting your emotions take full control over your actions.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the sudden kiss, he even smiles into it, feeling his heart beating in joy.

You start riding him slowly, moving your hips at a torturing pace as you’re still getting used to his size. You’re clenching around him, your slick coating his dick and Steve feels it all so intensely.

The strap of your bra slips down your wet arm but you don’t bother to fix it.

Steve cups your cheeks as your tongues clash together, your needy whimpers vibrate against his lips but he notices how quiet they sound compared to moans and screams you let out when you’re in his bed.

“Let them out, baby,” he murmurs as you both pull away from the kiss, your breaths mingling together as your lips keep brushing against one another. He tucks your wet hair behind your ears and slips his hands down your body, settling on your hips, he gives you a lazy smile, his eyes already fucked out, “let me hear your pretty moans,” he whispers, trying to coax his favorite sounds out of you as he starts fucking up into you.

You gasp and hold on tighter, furrowing your eyebrows even more, the feeling of him splitting you open, fucking you deeper making you whimper in need.

“P-Public, neighbors might hear, Steve–” You whine as you meet his thrusts, continuing to roll your hips despite the nervousness that lingers in you from not wanting to get caught, but it’s hard to keep quiet when he feels so good.

Steve couldn’t care less about his neighbors, the bushes around his house hide his backyard well enough, there is no need to worry.

“Let them hear,” he whispers into your neck as he presses his lips to your delicate skin.

Your heart stutters in your chest, surprise sparks in you because he wants people to hear you, both of you, he doesn’t care about hiding, he didn’t care about it at all today.

His strong hands hold your hips, his cock sliding in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your belly, his moans echo through the night and you can’t help but get lost in the moment of this.

You bury your fingers in his hair and your face in his neck, whining as you pick up the pace, riding him faster than before, causing the water to splash around you both. His chest hair brushes against your boobs, his lips suck on your skin, his moans vibrate against you as he kisses you through it all.

“Just like that,” he hums, satisfaction tugging at him when he feels you drooling over his neck, your hot tears falling down on his skin, “look at me, honey, I wanna see your face.”

You gather your strength to pull back far enough for him to see you and those tears he caused to fall from your eyes. You’re whimpering and clenching around him tightly, making him match the sounds that fall from your lips.

His hazel eyes are dark, his lips puffy and cheeks redder than before, his wet skin glowing under the string lights in his backyard. God, he looks so beautiful, especially when he is moaning your name and clinging to you.

He cups the side of your face and you make his heart flutter in his chest when you lean into his touch.

For a moment, he leans back the slightest bit just to see you, to watch how you ride him, how you take him, how much pleasure he brings you, how your face scrunches up so prettily, how your lips curl into a pout, how your boobs threaten to spill out of your bra as you bounce on his dick, whimpering his name, over and over again.

God, he loves you, he loves you so fucking much that it physically hurts him to hide those words from you, everything inside of him screams at him to say them, to let you know, to confess to you, to show you how much he wants you, how deep his feelings for you are.

His own eyes burn with tears, pleasure and emotions mixing together as he watches you, convinced that there is something behind your eyes as well, feelings, adoration, love.

There has to be something, right?

You wouldn’t hold his hand just for the fun of it, you wouldn’t kiss him and let him feel you, have you like this if there wasn’t something in your heart for him. You wouldn’t spend nights in his arms and dinners with him if it was casual.

It’s not casual, it just can’t be.

You have to feel it too, you have to feel the love.

You just have to.

Your name falls from his lips and when you wrap your arms around him again and you lean your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes with something, you grow tighter around him, making his moans louder.

I love you.

He traces words into your skin that he can’t say out loud because he is too afraid to lose you because while there is hope in him, there is also fear, fear that he is misunderstanding something again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Steve wants to whisper them to you, to say them to you, to scream them out into the open for the whole world to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your heart explode in your chest.

“So are you,” you whisper back, shakily, wishing you could say something else, something more.

Steve looks up at you as though you’re something special, like you aren’t the girl he once hated, like you are his and it prompts you to peck his lips, over and over again just the way he always does to you.

Waves of pleasure crash over the both of you as you chase your high together, you moan against each others lips as his hand moves down your stomach and his fingers settle between your thighs, no words are spoken anymore when he presses against your clit gently, rubbing circles against your sensitive nub, your high pitched moans, his deep thrusts and the begging looks in both your eyes are enough.

You kiss and you both move, faster than before, you cling to one another harder, stronger, deeper than ever, your lips moving feverishly with each other, desperation and love behind all your movements, a searing heat cursing through you both, overwhelming your poor hearts that long for each other so pleadingly.

And when you both reach your peak, Steve has to press his lips strongly to yours so he doesn’t spill the words that become harder to keep in. He kisses you for as long as he can, he kisses you through your high and through the aftermath, your movements slow down and your hearts beat slower, he still doesn’t pull away, if anything, he tightens his arms around you, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting this night to end.

He wants to smile, he wants to feel happy but a part of him is so scared, after tonight especially.

You showed him something that he could lose at any given moment, you made him feel things he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling, you lit the fire inside of him again, you made his heart feel again, you made him love again, stronger than he ever did before, he didn’t even think a love like this was possible, he didn’t think he could love so deeply.

What will there be if he loses you?

He experienced heartbreak before but nothing would compare to this, not even his first love could make him feel such excruciating pain that you will curse him with when you decide to leave him.

His heart pains at the thought, it already begins to break just thinking of the possibility.

Steve clings to you, when you pull away from the kiss, he buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, he holds you tightly as though he is afraid that you might disappear if he lets you go.

He needs to feel you, he needs you against him, he needs to savor every moment you still allow him with you.

Steve can’t bear to lose you, not you, he can get through anything, he can get over anything but not you.

And while he is filled with fear, inwardly begging for you to stay, for you to be the one to be by his side – you are holding onto him with hope, with a smile on your face, unaware of the fear that lingers in the man that you love with all your heart.

You never thought you’d be in this position. That you’d ever feel like this when it came to Steve. You never thought you would feel confident in this relationship, potential, a future in it. The fear slowly decreases in each caress he gives you, in every touch, in every kiss. A fear you never thought you would lose in your life.

All you ever imagined in this love you had for him was pain. Everything ended in pure heartbreak and loneliness for you. Now, that image doesn’t come to mind. That picture you painted is no longer vivid in your head.

And this is when you realize that you have a chance. You truly have a chance.

You decide to push it all aside, the anxiety, the fear of rejection, the fear of loss, you push it all away, no longer allowing the sadness and the fear to control you, if today wasn’t the push that you needed then you don’t know what else will.

All the signs you weren’t sure of are there, they are there, colorful and bright, for you to see so clearly and you no longer move away from them, you move towards them, allowing yourself to feel hope that he can feel the same.

And when you two go to bed that night after a long shower together, you cuddle and you kiss each other sweetly, whispering words of affection to one another, tracing each other's skin and holding one another tight.

You make a decision.

Tomorrow… Tomorrow will be the day you decide to confess. It cannot wait any longer. It cannot be postponed. It is inevitable, and you cannot handle the pain of loving him and being just this item with him any longer, especially not after this night.

Having him like this is no longer enough.

Keeping those three words in becomes less possible after every kiss, every touch, every whisper.

Tomorrow your life will change.

And hopefully for the better.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

#dwoht -- chapter twenty #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things angst

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usodeshou · 2 years

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#gonna get my final wisdom tooth (of two lol) removed in like 45 minutes and I'm Not Ready 🙈#the first one was removed like 15 years ago or something and that went perfectly #the pain was really manageable and there wasn't even a lot of swelling #the sound of bone cracking that you hear in your head was really fucking weird though #the root amputation I had to do in late 2019 in a last-ditch (and successful) effort to save one of my lower back teeth was less great #the procedure itself was fine #but I was really cold and had to stop myself from shivering too badly throughout because - you know - sharp instruments #and the wound got a little infected afterwards so I had to go back in and have it cleaned of pus several times #plus that one time my entire system just almost collapsed on itself after I came back from having the stitches removed #where I got scared for a moment that I might have sepsis or something because I suddenly felt like shit and got really drowsy etc.#still no idea wtf that was #but the wound took a lot longer to heal than it is normally supposed to #and the collective experience wasn't that great #and I'm still terrified that the root of this wisdom tooth might still be curled slightly around a nerve #even if my current dentist said it's fine now after checking out the x-ray #granted the tooth hadn't grown out back when the first one was removed #now it's fully out with no gum covering it or whatever (that phase was great because it got inflamed all the time 🙄)#so that makes things a lot easier #I'm still sort of scared though? 😅#it'll probably be fine but my head is coming up with a whole worst case scenario reel as I type #doesn't help that I slept like shit #gotta get ready now 🙈#it's gonna be fine *pats myself on the head*#just me rambling #edit: it objectively went well but I kinda started hyperventilating a little bit halfway through #and just had to breathe my way through it #had to just sit down and wait a bit before I could go home because I was shaking so much but it's done now thank god

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sea-of-dust · 11 months

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You gotta be kidding...

5wirl x GN! Reader

Summary: They make a reference to something personal between you two while performing live. Almost putting a spotlight on you.

Notes: Modern AU, mention of irl video game and band: Remmber Sports (they're good recommend Tiny Planets),

Warnings: suggestive humor, swearing, never expect proof reading

He met you before he was an idol. High school to be exact. You two were in the same music class bonding over how much you dreaded your music teacher. "He sounds like a divorced mom.." "isn't he married?" "Exactly" you flop onto your desk

You two have been in almost every class together years afterward, just so you didn't have to work with a stranger for group projects. People would would find you two around school alot and walking home together. "And they were roommates," one of your classmates giggle as you two casually hold hands while speaking to eatchother, in reality, you both didn't notice

He was always so calm but also somehow could smell your problems?!? "Ughhhh" "Lemme guess they chewed gum loudly again?" You spring up placing your head back down. "Stop knowing based off my grunts!" "And you're mad at me for not noticing something earlier" "HA!-" "nm it's because I didn't let you sleep in" "...I genuinely despise you"

He started catching feelings midway through your first semester of the new school year. You did notice he sometimes hugged you tighter, looked at you a little longer, he even got small trinkets for you, noticing how fond he looked when you casually wore them.

It was by the end of the year he had told you he got a scouted as an idol, it took alot for him to tell you but it worked thank god you didn't ditch him like he thought.

"So uh..." "?" "I got scouted" your eyes widen, he thought all his fears came to life before you hugged him tightly and squealed. "I TOLD YOU YOU HAD A NICE VOICE!!" "You didn't have to yell" "Shut up you cry over stuff like this!" Now you were the one that oddly knew things about him...you were right...he did cry...alot like the whole group knew the next day.

The group try to hype him up into asking you out. "DUDEEEE COME ON THEYRE NOT GOING ANYWHERE" "I can ask to hangout" he mutters holding his phone in his hand "COME ONNN" venti and heizou sync up kazuha speaking up "ask them to go for dinner" his cheeks turn pink almost instantly "UH MAYBE NOT COME ON- WHAT IF-" "and sent" "WHEN DID YOU TAKE MY PHONE?!" "You'll live" Xiao rolls his eyes as aether bickers with him, his phone noti goes off. "Sure what time?" There's a silence in the room as Xiao gives him the phone. "At 4?" "bet ☆" you and those star emojis how are you like this. "ITS A DATE!!" "YEAAAAAAA" they sounded like a frat house.

He gets all giddy on that date and when you two finally go on one you finally hit the maybe were dating phase but you both don't wanna admit it to eatchother. So the rest of 5wirl planned something for you two. "Alr we know he likes them nowww...." "we...." "Why don't we perform for them" "on their friend ani?" "How do you know that..." they turn to heizou "because he saved it on his calander" "..." and so they planned out your ani for you two.

And so their evil plans acted out perfectly, you two went out on another date and later that day you dropped him off at the concert. What you didn't expect was heizou dragging you to a seat. "Stay right here and don't move alright" you watched them get on stage aether seeming to be looking for you, they get to performing when one of the lyrics hit you. "Hey why don't you meet me at four?" An almost slured pronunciation followed by aether finally finding you. His eyes so tender yet teasing. You felt your heart skip a beat a small wink only making you more bashful.

To think the performance would end there nope. As you tried to get off your seat aether greets you with a cheeky smile a small ring in his hand. You turn around quickly. "I guess I flustered you more than he ever will" he leans on you wrapping his arms casually around your waist while you continues to fluster you. "He was just a small crush..." "enough to have you gush for 4 months about it" he laughs softly kissing you cheek. "When did you even gain this much confidence" "small words of advice" your mind immediately goes to Heizou. "Alrighty then..." without a warning you pull your face closer forcing him to slouch over you. "Did heizou tell you what to do incase of this situation aswell?" Thank god that concert hall was almost empty and the seat you were at made it almost impossible to see you two because the next thing you see and hear are a bunch of idiots going YEAAAAAAAAAAA. Aether x y/n shirts and a poster held up by Xiao. They ship it.

You made cute accessories! He's seen your work on social media and reached out. "You're accessories are so cute do you have a store?" "Nah I only sell locally near my college" turns out you both went to the same college he's never did a double check so fast in his life. As soon as he saw you he cupped one of your hands, his eyes sparkling in pure joy. "GIMMIE EVERYTHING IN STOCK!" "HUH?!"

Number one fan he's following you around. He'd be your personal advertisement always wearing your stuff and flexing it to others. He WILL be the most annoying person on campus

When you tell him to stop he just kinda tilts his head until he realizes what your saying as if he finally loaded. "Oh! Alright!" That's when you make an almost massive mistake "I did enjoy your support tho but youre-" "SO YOU LIKE HAVING A FAN?!" And so began the simping. He's all over you. Every class your with him? He's leaning into you, whispering random stuff in your ear. Your eyebags got darker everytime he did this but he was more chill than your online fans.

The days you also leaned into him are the days you've never seen someone more flustered. "Hm?" You lift up your head watching him cover his face quickly. "Venti?" He turns away from you even more. "Don't look at me! Where did you even learn that-" "I mean you do that to me all the time" "don't say it outloud-" "did you just whimper?" He stops suddenly using is braids to cover his face as he mumbles to himself. You bring that up to traumatize him

He had to get used to you showing affection, you weren't even dating yet! Come on, don't do this! Even a small smile he'd tease you for it but he'd definitely scream into his pillow about it.

He only asked you out when you made your feeling for him known. A small note under his door telling asking him to meet up at an amusement park later that weekend was where it clicked he looked and sounded like a little girl you could hear his "YEAAAAAAAA" from your room.

He's doing everything he's on a call with the others he just needs them to hear his my story animated from start to finish. "Can you not play that effen punk music main stream shit can barely hear you" "Shut the fuck up hot topic this is important!" "This is why you fucked up your eyeliner" "I DID?!?!" He checked in his mirror realizing he didn't and mostly argued with Xiao. "If they ditch you you deserve it" "quit being a downer! Good luck Venti!" They all mostly wave at the camera before hanging up leaving you and him alone for the evening

He loved it. He was like a child pointing at things he wanted. "Do you have the money?" He looks away pounting "not an actual question I'll play for it" his eyes widen almost sparkling. You two left flexing your carnival game knowledge and venti covered in plush prizes you won for him.

As payback for the newfound plush army, he invited you to a concert. "Oh so you did have money" "Shut up" "hehe" your teasingly small laugh is so cute stop doing that. What you didn't know is that he strapped some keychains you made on his belt, and he NEVER STOPPED WINKING, if you had to drink everytime he found you in the audience and winked you'd have five drinks...per song. It was cute seeing him smirk whenever you slightly blushed at him.

"Y/n!!" He smiles as you wait for him outside the concert hall. "Lets go to another amusement park!" He giggles embracing you "right now?" "Yea!" He nuzzles his face into your chest "sure..when you take off all of those keychains Jesus how much did you-" "200 bucks" "...VENTI" "THEYRE CUTE I KNOW YOU EYED THEM!" You blush slightly smirking "I did...they look adorable on you" you struck him right in the heart leaving both of you flustered. "The amusement parks a few blocks away" "LETS GO!" as if it never happened you both headed to the amusement park.

You beat him at a rhythm game he liked. You got first in a video game event he liked since then him he's declared you his rival. "Who the hell is this guy getting in the way of the number one spot" he grits his teeth checking your profile. "347 full combed songs...300 all perfects...and maxed out cards" he rolls his eyes

He wanted to let off some steam at an arcade only to find out he got beat in that game also! With the same name tag as the rythum game champ. He nearly smashes the machine when he notices you step up to it. "Shame, this games kinda better when I'm kicking someone's ass..." You sigh only now, noticing him, smirking at this chance you take it. "You mind playing this with me?" You perk up. Thinking this is a good way to let off steam, he accepts. "I won't go easy." "Alright!" You let him pick the song and almost immediately grab the handbar

Strange, he thinks he doesn't need it. As soon as the song starts, he hears your feet absolutely slam on the board. He's shocked but doesn't look over he's focused on his side of the screen. By the end, you huff heavily, looking up. "You won." You put your fist up for a fist bump. "Ah that songs so annoying~" he dosent give you one back putting in his names for national ranks. That's when he noticed that you put in the name the person on every rythum game had and as soon as you pressed confirm he nearly pounces on you. "SO YOURE THE ONE TAKING THE NUMBER 1 SPOTS EVERYWHERE!" "Yea what about it-" he looks at you angrily, calming down a bit before turning back to you. "I declare you my rival" "well...If you wanna we could rematch sometime gimmie your number?"

Ever since then you two have skeduled days to go to the arcade to whale on eatchother and going out to eat afterword. "I'm pretty sure you'd like it reminds me of your face ☆" you say as you point to a horrible cgi skeleton. "Screw you" "heh". You'd eventually open up to him more and invited him out to places more often. He didn't wanna say it outloud but he genuinely enjoyed those moments

One of the times you two went, you try to teach him gutair hero, he kinda mumbles to himself. "You can just play on your lap" "hmmhmm mhm em You can't be this msm hm" "what-" he realizes he said that outloud and covers his face nearly dropping the gutair. "I didn't hear that last part" he sighs in relief "but do you think im cute?" And so he's even more ashamed of himself. "Context clues" you scratch your cheek in a bit of embrassment "I think you're pretty cute too" you embarssingly laugh leaning away

you're pretty sure you could see his heart skip a beat as he looks up at you, his face nearly entirely pink. Peaking at you through his hand. You decide to tease your friend. "Seems like you wanna date me~" He moves back quickly, covering his mouth to hide his blushing. "I'm fine with that ya know~" you lean into him him still covering his face. He looks away looking back at you,his eyes softening "I'm fine with the thought of kissing you..well maybe a little more than fine but-" your words were cut off as you feel his lips touch yours. Quick yet soft, his hands wrapping around your shoulders. You lean back trying to catch your breath "...how long have you've been waiting to do that?" "...a few months now" "That's kinda adorable Xiao" you lean in for another kiss. You two recount that day as your first date

Ever since then he's more willing to hang out a little more clingy too. Whenever he had a show he would ask you if you were busy that day before sending you the ticket link. "Hey are you busy on the 14th?" "No why?" He'd send you the link without a secound thought "you know I'm not really into idols that much" "I'm in the group..." "...bought"

He actively looks for you in the audience. You would text him where you were sitting beforehand, yet he'd still look like a lost puppy. As soon as he finds you, his eyes sparkled. He forced himself to calm down before giving you a small wave

It was by the end of the show where he was performing the last song and you noticed something about their dance it kinda looked like what you would do on a song you knew well. It was then that you realized Xiao made a dance routine inspired by your sweaty gaming dance. You covered your face in embrassment but peaked through your hands. You couldn't believe he paid that much attention to you. He smirks noticing this

As the show ends, he runs over to you, "That was...a little embrassing" you blush a bit. "..." "dosent mean I didn't like it tho!" Trying not to offend him further you mumble on of how great the performance was. At first he's pretty stiff with his arms crossed you'd think he was annoyed till he kissed you again leaning in to hug you. "I'm glad you liked it" he whispers ever so softly in your ear.

He offen saw you working on projects for bands he likes and decided to commission you. He invited you to a studio and you both began to focus on what he commissioned you on. "I'm looking for something calm yet something someone would listen to in the morning to wake them up..." "hmmm" you play a calm chord progression on your gutair. "Speed up a bit" he taps his foot as if keeping pace as you speed up your playing. "That's pretty good! Sounds like a Remmber sports song" " YOU LISTEN TO THEM?" "Yea?" "Oh my god I thought you wouldn't catch that-" "they're a bit of a guilty pleasure"

You two always worked together after that whenever he would be lost in thought you'd just play hall of the mountain king behind him. He'd turn around slowly as your playing got more intense. "You think of something?" "..."

You pretty much became 5wirl's offical gutairst after kazuha recommended you. They'd make fun of him for how long you two stayed at the studio together. "Kazuha~, you left us sleeping in the shopping cart again!" Venti grins ear to ear "must really like that gutairst." Kazuha smiles."They're just a friend I find it easy to get along with" he thinks about what you two were talking about his eyes softening as if it were an old fond memory "and he's doing it again" heizou sighs jokingly

A few months of performing together, they treat you as family, almost apart of 5wirl. As soon as Kazuha ever left the room they'd turn to you in a heartbeat. "You sure you don't kiss when we're not looking?" "Eh?!" "Does kazuha usually get all mumbly around you" "he does but-" "I KNEW IT" "dose he show you his unironic leaf collection" they all lean in expectingly. "No wha-" You made sure kazuha was too far to hear what you were about to say "...OK so this one time..." they listened to you like their lives depended on it.

The day you told them about that is the day you regret the most, they always looked you and kazuha up and down. Snicker to themselves. "How much you wanna bet they might kiss today" "CAN YOU TWO CUT IT OUT" you let out a sigh walking into the recording studio to practice, a familiar humming following you in a few secounds later. You two sing together and when you finish he finally speaks up. "You know... this the song I was playing when I first realized I was into you" "heh really" you stop strumming, realizing what he said "wait what-" he laughs softly at your reaction placing a hand on your cheek. "That songs kinda special to me..." he holds your hand tenderly with his unbandaged hand. "Reminds me of how much I love you" your eyes widen a bit as he looks at you with the most soft eyes. "I love you too kazuha" you smile gently, letting him lean in to kiss you

All of them noticed you two were dating it was odvious, the way you two acted around eatchother gave litterally everything away. "You two give eatchother less personal space than before are you dating?" "What?" "And you smell like him-" "how do you know what he smells like" "so you're dating?!" "How did you come to that conclusion?!" You and venti would bicker trying to hide your relationship with kazuha after he forgot to tell you he already told them.

Finally a show came along a small gig surprising a popular idol group would show, but still nice. You looked at the music sheet for the song looked up at him, sighed, and looked back. He looked so pleased giving you a few riffs and you look down to see another reason to go to therapy.

What he didn't put on hell on paper was a very veryyy familiar cord progression. He played it himself and put it in post. Making another version so if you ever asked you wouldn't notice, and a few weeks later they went live

You watched them in the audience, hearing the song you helped on and felt your smile fade into a straight face as you heard your solo along with the memorable melody gutair. He saw this trying to avoid a giggle while performing, he's suffering from you brainrot the rest of the show, some fancams caught him getting kicked by heizou or Xiao.

"So how did you like the show~" "Xiao almost kicked you off the stage..." There's a silence. "He dosent kick hard enough for that...but at least you enjoyed it" he smiles, pinching your cheeks and rubing your face, you look away hearing him giggle at your behavior. "I'll make you a coffee-" "don't you dare make a reference" he smirks at you "hehe"

You were online friends usually playing main stream games or random stuff you found. Youd always play together though, never single player! He hates that

"Are you playing a single player game..." "no-" "LIAR ITS ON YOUR STATUS" "SHIT- I mean I have no idea what your talking about" "...atleast stream it" he always got all pouty when he couldn't play with you

He'd definitely randomly interrogate you because you found something out on someone you both knew. "IS IT ABOUT-" "shush shus shu stfu quiet" "oh come on dude what is she gonna hear you?" "We're in a public call" "oh...LMAO" "DUDE"

When you combine both these loves, his love for you playing a co-op detective game with you has become the best thing for him to ever experience. "Who will be first to solve this?" "We're supposed to work together heizou" "oh...oh 😏" "nevermind I'm gonna play hitman without you" his avatar suddenly turns to face you and emotes a shocked reaction "OH COME ON"

He started catching feelings for a while. Ever since you two got on a call for the first time, your voice kinda intransted him. "Your voice Is so nicee" muttering into the mic yet you heard him clearly. "Thank you?" "It really is" its like you can see him currently slumped over his desk just day dreaming about you.

Didn't stop your offline friend for teasing you about him too. "Ooo he's into you~" "nuh uh nope nope!" The tips of your ears turn a pink. "And you like him back might aswell seal the deal" "STOP IT!" Blushing heavily you slam your hand down. Unsurprisingly Heizous in a simular situation 4nemo teasing him over just how much he talks about you. "Ohhh they're so cool" "they smell nice" "stop mocking me" he huffs "then get with them" they say in sync "stop weirdly harmonizing" he sits down covering his currently pink face.

Didn't help when you two first saw eatchother. "What the hell you live so closeby" "I know right what's next you're at my favorite Cafe conveniently the next table over" you turn over your shoulder seeing someone smile at their phone turn back and type "you mentioned before you had moles under both eyes right?" The persons face dropping looking around."Yea?" Without typing back, you walk over sitting infrot of him. "Bro, someone's sitting at my table, hold on" you smile at him typing back "oh sorry lemme just leave then my mistake 😔" "WAIT HUH?!?!" his eyes widen as he grabs your wrist "y/n?" small tears forming in his eyes pulling you into a hug with desperation. "Heizou" he hugs you tighter when he hears his name come out your mouth. "You're as pretty as I thought you'd be..." patting his head as he nuzzles into your chest. "You wanna go back to mine after this" "Yes!" With sudden enthusiasm, you two talk about your irl lives while bullying his drink of choice. "Pumpkin spice.." "oh my god shut up my again" "it's nasty" "it's good to me!!" "Shut up mom with 2 kids living in a van"

He's been going to your house at least once a week now "we should play together" he overbites his lip "I barely charged my secound controller" you overbite your lip back at him "then let's just hang out then I got news bby" visibly cringing at that last bit you let him in with him near instantly showing you a picture of him being accepted into an idol group. "Ohh you're gonna have real fangirls now" "Shut up!" "I'm gonna lead them just to make fun of you" "you're the only fangirl I'd date" "..." You visibly cringe "OH COME ON" "HAHAHA"

And so you were invited to the hell known as a debut concert and dear god was it near impossible to not be as hype as the crowd. Especially catching the fancams with him winking at you. Anyone could tell he was super inlove with whoever he was winking at especially after the group stopped in between a song witch you were barely paying attention to until you heard "I hope you guys never have to play solo!" Could have swore you felt him glare at you "speaking of solo the next songs title is-" all you paid attention to yet you look like you just woke up from a really loud noise.

"Y/n! Did you see it! Did ya like my moves" he smiles at you like a happy little dog. "It was surprisingly great Heizou" "surprising huh?" He pouts as if saddened by that comment. "But the show was amazing Heizou I'd go again" that bright glow of a smile you had is something hell never let go of, without hesitation he holds your hand "marry me" "come again?" "I mean it we should date!" Accidental slip up. He's screwed, you're gonna reject him so blatantly he's never gonna bother you again. "Heizou...that's so sudden" your eyes meet warmly "but I've been thinking the same" kissing his cheek you walk off letting him process what just happened. "WAIT WAIT WAIT YOURE NOT DITCHING ME AFTER SAYING THAT" "MAYBE I AM!" You had to run home that day but it was worth it laughing at him trying to keep up.

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adverbally · 6 days

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Face to Face in Secret Places

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “sneaking around” | wc: 1,576 | rated: E | cw: none | tags: set pre-S3, established relationship, in public (school library), fear of getting caught, exhibitionism (but no voyeurism), making out, dry humping, oral sex | title from “A View to Kill” by Duran Duran

———

“Ow, shit!”

“Shh, someone’s gonna hear you!” Steve hisses, covering Eddie’s mouth with his hand.

Eddie jerks his head away and whisper-shouts back, “Then stop hurting me!” The Hawkins High School library apparently has extra-sharp shelves, which Eddie knows because they’re digging into his back where Steve has him pushed into a corner in the reference section. “Plus nobody comes in here during class time and Mrs. Wright already left for her lunch break, like, five minutes ago. Who’s gonna hear?”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leans in for another kiss. Eddie accepts it happily, even if he still hasn’t fully come to terms with the fact that Steve Harrington is ditching class with him so they can make out in the library for the third time this month.

Once “King” Steve was dethroned last fall, Eddie found that Regular Steve wasn’t actually bad company. They got to talking after Tina’s Halloween party, where Steve got so shitfaced that Eddie had to physically peel him off the lawn before he could take him home. Their truce extended to their shared classes as the semester came to a close: Eddie proofread Steve’s essays for English, while Steve walked him through the problem sets for Algebra II. They hung out after school when they didn’t have basketball and Hellfire Club, growing closer by the day.

Steve had made a move first, leaning in for a kiss when Eddie dropped him off after a study session around Valentine’s Day. Now, in March, it was looking like Eddie might actually graduate on his second attempt, as long as Steve didn’t get them both kicked out for dry humping in the library.

Well. Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad right now, with Steve’s tongue hot in Eddie’s mouth and Steve’s thigh pressed between Eddie’s legs and the soft noises Steve’s making as Eddie sticks his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and squeezes.

“Eddie, I swear to god, if you make me come in these pants, I’m never touching you again,” Steve says, burying his fingers in Eddie’s hair like he’s hanging on for dear life.

He laughs in Steve’s ear. “As if you could keep your hands off me.” He licks over the moles just below Steve’s jawline to make him squirm.

“Eddie!”

“Shh,” Eddie teases.

Steve growls in frustration and pulls Eddie’s hair until his mouth is close enough for another kiss. He tastes like Eddie’s cinnamon gum and the can of Coke they had shared at lunch. When Steve slips a hand between them to grope Eddie’s cock through his jeans, Eddie’s head buzzes like carbonation is trapped in it.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Mm-hmm.” The sound travels through Steve’s tongue to vibrate against Eddie’s teeth. It’s a weird feeling but a good one, too, one that has Eddie’s hips bucking up and the shelf behind him jabbing into his kidneys.

He grunts in pain. “Wait, wait one second.” When Steve pulls away, Eddie uses the leverage from his hands in Steve’s back pockets to spin them around, pushing Steve up against the shelves.

“Shit, those are sharp,” Steve says to himself.

Eddie doesn’t respond, too busy sinking to his knees on the ancient carpet and unfastening Steve’s jeans.

“Hold on, Mrs. Wright might be back any minute!”

“We probably have ten minutes, at least. And frankly, I don’t think it’s gonna take that long to get you off.” Eddie pointedly looks down at Steve’s cock tenting his boxers through the open fly of his pants. “So be quiet, keep a lookout, and let me suck your dick, okay?”

Steve’s eyes are wide, almost glowing in the harsh fluorescent lighting, but he doesn’t protest. He nods, brushes some of Eddie’s hair away from his face, and watches intently as Eddie takes the head of his cock into his mouth.

It’s not the first time Eddie has done this with Steve, but it is the first time they’re doing it in public (Eddie’s van doesn’t count as public, does it?). It’s a little thrilling, the idea that anyone could come in here and see Eddie on his knees with Steve Harrington’s cock down his throat. It makes Eddie want to show off.

When Eddie pulls back to lick into his slit, Steve lets out a shuddering moan, hunching over and scrunching a fist in Eddie’s hair like he’s in pain.

“Are you—?” Eddie starts to ask, but Steve quickly cuts him off.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s punctuated by a whine when Eddie does it again, lapping Steve’s precome straight from the source. It tastes even better with Steve trying to muffle his cries with the back of his hand, with him staring down at Eddie like he’s something out of a dream. Eddie looks back at him while he mouths at his tip, flushed bright pink with the need to come.

“Eddie, please, I’m close,” Steve begs in a strained whisper.

He squeezes Steve’s hips in encouragement, then he sinks down as far as he can around his cock. Eddie’s not, like, a professional at this yet, so he can’t deepthroat him or anything, but he takes Steve’s dick deep enough to nudge at the back of his throat without making him gag. He bobs his head slowly, relishing the drag and the wet noises and Steve’s unblinking eyes full of awe and desire.

Steve’s hand tightens in Eddie’s hair. He whispers his name like a prayer, “Eddie. Eddie, Eddie—” He goes quiet when he comes, throwing his head back and staring at the dirty ceiling tiles with his mouth wide open.

Eddie holds Steve’s twitching hips in place against the shelf as he swallows him down. It goes better than his past attempts, with much less choking and spluttering involved, but he still has a little come dribbling down his chin when he gets to his feet.

To his surprise, once they’re standing eye-to-eye again, Steve leans in and licks his own jizz off Eddie’s face before pushing it back into Eddie’s mouth in a filthy kiss. It’s probably the dirtiest, sexiest thing Eddie has ever experienced, and it’s happening in the school library. Incredible.

Steve pulls away, still breathing heavily, to ask, “Did you come?”

Eddie grinds his still-hard cock against Steve’s hipbone. “Not yet,” he responds, a little pointedly. “But unlike you, I don’t care if I come in my pants.”

“Great, that’s great,” Steve babbles, already going in for another kiss and propping his foot on the lowest bookshelf so his thigh is in a better position for Eddie to ride. His leg fits between Eddie’s like it was made for him, the thick muscle surrounded by soft-worn denim providing the perfect amount of friction when Eddie’s hips start to rock.

Steve cradles his face and kisses him with a gentleness that’s at odds with the frantic rutting of Eddie’s hips. They haven’t had a big discussion about their feelings yet but it’s almost like they don’t have to, not when Eddie can feel Steve’s care and affection in every touch. He tries to kiss Steve back with the same intensity, like Eddie can telepathically project how much he likes him with his mouth.

It’s not long before Eddie’s rhythm starts to falter. Steve whispers, “C’mon, baby, come for me,” and Eddie is helpless to resist when Steve’s looking at him with his eyes like liquid honey and his lips shiny with Eddie’s spit.

He buries his groan in the crook of Steve’s neck, biting at the skin just below the collar of his shirt, while his cock spills in his boxers. Steve cradles Eddie’s head against his shoulder and gently runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he catches his breath.

Once his heart rate settles, Eddie jokes, “Maybe I should’ve cared a little more about coming in my pants.” He’s sticky and damp enough that he’ll probably skip the rest of his classes for the day so he can go home and change.

Steve tucks himself back into his pants with a smug look. “I tried to share my wisdom and you rejected it. Now you’ll pay the price.”

“Are you going back to class?” Eddie asks. He hopes Steve picks up the underlying invitation to ditch with Eddie.

He tilts his head with a grin. “Geez, you’re clingy,” he teases. “If you don’t want to be without me for the rest of the day, just say so.”

“Mm, how about every day?” Eddie pecks him on the lips.

“I think I could make that work,” Steve says, looping his arms around Eddie’s neck for a final, lingering kiss before they sneak out of the building. “Your car or mine?”

Wayne is home and Steve’s parents are out of town, so it’s a no-brainer for both of them. ”I’ll drive us to your house?” Eddie suggests.

“It’s a date.” Steve smacks his ass as he turns to go out the side door, making Eddie jump. “You better get going if you don’t want to get caught in the hallway between classes.”

“Meet you out there.”

Five minutes later, they’re giggling together in Eddie’s van, giddy with the feeling of getting away with something and being alone together and tangling their fingers together on the gear shift. Eddie can’t stop turning to look at Steve’s face, scrunched up with a smile, and thinking about how much he wants to have this every day for the rest of his life.

#steddiesmuttyseptember #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine

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dominantslasherking · 5 months

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Billy and stu where male reader ignores them because they have been more caught up in there killing then reader so he gets annoyed and decides to ignore them and you can decide how it ends up 😊💜 hope it's not to much to ask thanks

Billy And Stu With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Billy and Stu, have been rather preoccupied with their killers, sure it was their 'passion' but it seemed like they were ignoring you at this point. Two weeks in a row they had missed horror movie night.

Currently, you are walking toward one of your college classes, Billy and Stu were quick to spot your walking form and decided to follow as if nothing even happened. "Hey! Babee-~" Stu had purred out wrapping and arm around your shoulder in a playful, teasing manner, giving you a smile, as he noticed your cold expression. "Bad day?" Stu asked, tilting his head and giving you a cheeky smile completely unaware of your annoyance and anger towards him and Billy.

Billy was chewing on some mint gum, his eyes observing closely at your reactions. "Something the matter?" Billy calmly asked, clearly more aware than Stu. Your jaw clenched as you untangled Stu's grip from your body. With a swift glare at them both, you had left for your class. Leaving a baffled Billy and Stu standing there.

Stu let out an annoyed whine and huff, "Did I do something wrong? Ughh did I pop a boner on him again?" Stu asked with a scrunch of his face, Billy just looked at him and smacked the back of his head. "No you idiot, he's angry at us--for some reason, and ignoring us, clearly," Billy stated clearly frustrated at their predicament.

"OH!" Stu chimed up speaking again, "It might have been because--we kinda ditched him to go out killing these past weeks." Stu said with a smile, Billy nodded his head. "For once, I think you're right." Billy stated with a smirk, then dropped it slowly, "How are we gonna get him to forgive us then?" Stu gave a thoughtful look, before grinning like a maniac. "Well, we just gotta do something so big, that he won't be able to ignore us," Stu said with a slight purr in his throat.

Strangely enough, Stu nor Billy had decided to bother you for the day, (after of course an attempt during lunch, but not ending well) Right now you are at home taking a seat on your couch and trying to relax. However a ring was heard on your phone, getting up, and walking over to the phone, you answered it.

"Hello?" You asked boredly.

"Whats your fav-"

You hung up. A few minutes go by, and you hear strange sounds coming from inside, sounding like walking or running. Slowly you turned around only to be tackled onto the floor, by Billy or Stu in their scream outfit.

It was hard to tell who was who right now, "Cmon, we've missed you, can't I get a smile at least?" Stu purred out rutting up against you, as he took off the mask, and playfully slid the knife down your cheek, not on the sharp edge of course but the flat mental part.

Soon after Billy had joined taking a seat on the floor, as he gently grabbed your head and placed it into his lap. "We've decided to 'play' with you a bit." Billy whispered, flashing a smile just as Stu was.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, you gave them a smile in return.

"Okay." You whispered softly.

#slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #billy #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x male reader x stu macher #stu macher x male reader #stu #stu macher x reader #billy x male reader x stu

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murdrdocs · 8 months

Text

explicit sexual content; MDNI; fem!reader; includes cum eating

your relationship with oliver and felix was ... complicated, to put it simply.

you'd spend time in the pubs with them. treating oliver more hospitable than everyone else around the table combined. sending what he interpreted as bedroom eyes even while you were draped across felix's lap.

he'd thought it was a situation like before, another girl throwing themselves at him in a last ditch effort to get felix's attention. but you never asked oliver about felix. you never even brought up your mutual friend as you bounced yourself on oliver's dick.

still, oliver knew you weren't exclusive.

he saw hickies on your clavicle that he didn't leave, he smelt felix's aftershave on your skin just a little after breakfast, and sometimes, it would take you a little while longer to cum, as if you'd already been fucked earlier in the night.

but this never deterred oliver. he liked your attention. and he liked how being with you brought him closer to felix in ways he might not ever get to actually experience.

that's why he learns to time it perfectly, sneaking into your room right when felix has left. draping himself over your body and shamelessly sniffing your skin for remnants of felix's cologne. kissing you with attempts to taste felix; the unique combination of minty gum and tobacco. sometimes, if he gets really lucky, when he finds himself between your thighs there's still cum gathered on your cunt. left there for him to clean up.

but as oliver sees it, there is no luck without a bit of intervention.

#ermm anyway #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick smut #oliver quick #saltburn smut #felix catton x reader #felix catton smut #felix catton x you #felix catton #felixsworld!#oliversworld!

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

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1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defend you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. You hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

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