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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

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tmbcyberman · 2 years

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My friend/gayhusbando @thunderloudsworld finally is coming to Tumblr and I just 😍

#not a comic #welcome tumblr gremlin in training #all of you gremlins be nice to him ok?#been waiting for so long you don't even know #next he will join the homestuck cult #one of us

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kitten4sannie · 23 days

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blinding faith (1)

fall in line now, bow your head

pairings: cult leader! yunho x disciple! reader (fem) x elder! mingi feat. husband! seonghwa

genre: twisted religious romance (if you can even call it that), smut, late 1970s setting

summary: when it’s revealed that you and Seonghwa are having trouble conceiving, the founder graciously offers his own divine solution.

bend your knee, Child of God

w.c: 4k

warnings: aged up dom! yunho, switch! mingi, subby innocent (?) reader, corruption kink, pet names (for mingi too <3), light pain kink, perversion, major sacrilegious vibes and behavior, heavy mxm, mingi sucks cock, breath play (m receiving), light spit/sweat kink, oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, cum eating, squirting, an attempt at impregnation

a/n: this is dedicated to my loveliest lily @bunny4yungi <333 tho this is just part oneee i hope this helps you see the light if ykwim~ happy birthday baby 💕 so yeah this is pure filth,, like idk something must’ve happened to me when i wrote this but it’s prob bc i’m a yunwhore what can i say 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 oh and thank you all so very much for getting me to 4.6k followers ;; it means the absolute world to me >< anygaysss happy readinggg and please do lemme know if you’re excited for the second part 🖤

song recs: sunshine of your love by cream - starboy by the weeknd - judas by lady gaga (i’m just a Holy Fool, oh baby, it’s so cruel, but i’m still in love with Judas, baby~~)

As a broke, faithless runaway, especially during such a turbulent decade, you didn’t have many options, to say the least. There was no phone that you could use for miles, not a single soul in sight that you could ask for directions or for a dime they could spare, no map to look at to familiarize yourself with your surroundings — not that it mattered. Why would God provide you with what you needed when your existence itself was an accident? Your own flesh and blood didn’t want you, instead dropping you off at some rundown orphanage while you were still coated in your mother’s vernix caseosa, and crying incessantly for her, for someone, to feed you.

When you were old enough to make rash decisions, you decided that anywhere else was better than that hellish place, tired of waiting for a new pair of faceless parents to force you into their life like a misshapen puzzle piece, instead taking your fate into your own trembling hands.

That was what led you to come across the small, seemingly abandoned town that was located within the forest that you had been wandering inside for so long. All of the quaint, hand-built houses and buildings surrounded a tall, white picturesque church — one you had recognized from the various postcards that you and some of the other orphans had been handed by someone in a long white robe outside of the orphanage, listening intently to their promises of the love and acceptance you would feel if you joined their cause.

And that was when you met him, the man that would alter your life forever, taking away what could’ve been, and instead molding it into what He wanted, what God wanted.

He was hammering in the very last nail into the very last board of wood that kept the church together when he heard the sound of your dirty feet shift through the forest foliage behind him. As if he had been waiting for your arrival, he hummed softly and headed into your direction, not giving you the opportunity to escape when his sweaty, calloused hands enveloped yours, inviting you in with his friendly honey brown eyes, his cracked lips twisting upwards into a smile that sent a wave of instinctual fear into your heart, before his soft, warm words lured you in, forever holding you captive.

“You’ve finally arrived, my child. Welcome home.”

Over the years, you were taught by Yunho, your beloved leader, your savior, your everything, that God allowed those he loved the most, those that remained tied to their earthly bonds, to endure deep suffering and endless tribulations — because within that pain, within that humiliation, laid pleasure. Unimaginable pleasure that sat just below the surface. Yunho took great satisfaction in reaching into the darkness, into the depths, and ripping it out with his silver trimmed talons, always willing to graciously bestow it upon his followers.

There was no greater joy than to witness the moment his dear flock began to walk in the truth. He savored the sweet sounds of ecstasy that tore out of their sweat-ridden throats, longed for the moment their rosy faces ceased their contortions, their lips, wet with saliva, their unfocused eyes, wet with tears, knowing that another one of his beloved disciples had seen the light. And they would always look up at him with delicious desperation, begging for another chance to catch a glimpse of heaven once more. And, only because of his unending benevolence and boundless love, he brought them back, expecting nothing in return, except for their undying loyalty.

Yet, none of them were ever as loyal as you, even after you met a lovely man within the congregation to wed. You were still his angel from above. If only he had clipped your wings sooner.

There you were, sitting inside the garden with the other couples, the prettiest flower of them all, just waiting to be plucked, with your husband’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hands resting gently against your stomach, your hands over his, your head hung downwards, a small, sullen frown gracing your lovely face. Why was his sweetest lily wilting the way she was, instead of holding herself high, closer to the sun, to his everlasting love?

As soon as Yunho made his presence known within the bountiful garden that he had planted with his own two hands so many years ago, his followers grew quiet and offered him their full attention. He basked in it as he made his way in your direction, offering his touch to many of the people nearby, allowing them the privilege of bringing his jewelry-adorned hands up to their cheeks, which he caressed, or their trembling lips, which he brushed gently with his thumbs.

The warmth and light of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared, causing you to look up, your reddened eyes growing wide upon the sight of your savior standing before you. You watched with bated breath as he reached his hand out from behind his back and brought it up to your face, placing a small flower behind your ear. “Savior…”

“Savior, what have we done to be blessed with your presence?” Seonghwa asked, nuzzling his cheek into Yunho’s rough palm once he offered it to him.

“I wanted to check on the progress of your union.” Yunho smiled kindly down at Seonghwa, before returning his attention to you, who continued to gaze up longingly in his direction. “Are you with child, my dearest Y/N?”

You bit down into your bottom lip, your eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Savior….We’ve been trying our hardest to contribute to your beautiful congregation, yet I remain barren.” You shook your head out of frustration, a stream of tears spilling down your cheeks. “We don’t understand why God has not graced us.”

“Oh, my sweet child. Do not ever allow yourself to cry for sorrow, or pain, but out of joy, of pleasure,” Yunho taught, angling his head down further to gaze at your deliciously distraught expression, unable to keep himself from running his tongue across his bottom set of teeth, pressing one talon underneath your chin, so that you obediently angled it upwards without him having to tell you.

“Yes, Savior…” you whispered, gasping softly at the feeling of the cult leader’s sharpened fingers carefully wiping your remaining tears away, your admiration and love for him sprouting more and more within your beating heart.

Humming, Yunho lowered himself to his knees in front of the both of you, pressing his hands into your stomach through your thin garments. His benevolent smile deepened, his eyes displaying a darkness neither of you could see, not with the allusive veil he had placed over your own. “I will assist you in bearing offspring, my dear. Please come to my bedchambers after supper, and I will show you the true meaning of faith.”

“We offer you a thousand thanks for your grace, Savior…” Seonghwa bowed his head to Yunho, just before he pressed his lips lovingly against your cheek, which you reciprocated without hesitation. Your dear husband sighed with great relief, resting his temple on yours, his long, curled locks tickling your face, his hands returning to your stomach, placing them over Yunho’s this time around.

Despite the tranquility you felt, the sun still shining, a gentle breeze cooling your warm skin, the comforting smell of earth and flowers keeping you grounded, the sound of birds chirping in the trees above your head — there was still something else that you couldn’t quite shake off, something that sat just below the surface of your distorted mind. If you truly wanted to see what it was, you would have to get your hands dirty and dig it up yourself. But, for now, you would live in bliss, in heaven, feeding off of the love and mercy your savior offered you.

Yunho tilted his head to the side, reaching up to adjust the flower that began to fall from your ear, pushing a few strands of hair behind it. He studied your suddenly unreadable gaze from underneath his wispy lashes, his tongue just barely slipping past his curled lips to lick at them. “Is there something on your mind, my lily?”

You simply smiled back at him, your eyelids lowering, batting your own lashes at him. “I’m just admiring my savior and the safe haven he created for us. Makes me want to cry those tears of joy.” You briefly mirrored the perversion he had let slip out only a moment ago. “Of pleasure.”

It was then that Yunho began to grow stiff from beneath his heavy garments, biting at his lip as an attempt to keep himself grounded. This was why you were his favorite. You were his flower to water, to grow, and to tear away from your roots as he pleased. Everything in the garden was his, after all. God told him so.

“My love, my heart, my dearest angel, why do you look at me this way? With those tears in your eyes? With such devotion?” Yunho sighed out against your flushed cheek, his body flush against yours, the cold metal of his rosary splayed across your hot skin. You simply couldn’t speak, not with the way he was spilling inside you yet again.

The corners of his lips quirked up into a sadistic smile, his warm, uneven puffs of breath hitting the bottom of your jaw, as he clutched your slick, trembling thighs, holding them farther apart to ensure that he could continue accessing the heaven you kept in between them, the hot, wet haven you allowed your savior to access. “Is it because I’m filling you with my own devotion? Does knowing that my seed will soon grant new life inside of you bring you to tears, Y/N?”

You gazed up at your savior past your wet lashes, reaching down to press your hands into your stomach, feeling the outline of his pulsing cock that twitched inside of you and dribbled a few more beads of cum into your womb, a lust-struck expression carved into your flushed features. “It would be an honor to carry your young, Savior. I’d do anything to carry on your legacy of love.”

“Anything, my dear?” Yunho whispered carefully near your ear, as though he were testing you, before running his tongue along your jaw to get a taste of your essence, slowly making his way down your body, unable to keep himself from tasting your salty skin along the way. “Even though Seonghwa is your beloved husband?”

“Anything. I might be his wife, but you’re my savior, Yunho,” you sighed lovingly as a delightful shiver shot down your spine, not a single doubt present within your meticulously molded mind. Your ideas of the world, your life, its purpose — your saving grace had always been Yunho. How could he not be? Considering he built you himself, with great precision and care. You were the intricate tapestry he painstakingly sewed together year by year, each painful jab of his silver needle acting as a reminder of his divine love for you.

“Say my name again,” Yunho exhaled, his lips ghosting along your abdomen to your navel, unable to keep himself from tonguing it for his own pleasure, his talons leaving red streaks along your skin.

“Yunho,” you repeated, watching as the older man settled in between your thighs, his lips and tongue already exploring your slick entrance, gasping at the sensation of him lapping up his own release once it dribbled out of you.

“Again,” he commanded, his sharp eyes boring into yours from below, pinching your clit in between his teeth, his talons digging into your thighs.

“Yunho..!” You looked down at him with such sincerity, it had the potential to touch Yunho’s corrupted heart, your fingers sifting through his sweat-soaked raven locks, tugging on it once he filled you with his long tongue. You were growing feverish, losing sight of why you were there in the first place. “Don’t stop, Savior…Need more...”

Yunho dragged his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, blowing on it just to make you shudder. “Is that what you tell your husband when you want his cock? What else do you tell him?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling your cunt pulse. “Am I selfish for wanting more of your love? Am I a sinner for wanting you to fill me? I’ll go to hell a thousand times if it means I can have my savior’s love inside me once more...”

The seasoned cult leader’s long-lasting poison was far stronger, far more potent than your sincerities, especially when he administered it to his favorite prey in the most pleasurable, most effective way — with his sweet, saccharine lies that poured out like honey past his shiny, pointed teeth and rough, curled tongue that continued its ministrations on your puffy, used cunt. “Oh, please don’t say things like that, angel. You’ll ruin me for everyone else.”

In reality, you were the one he was ruining, corrupting, defiling — and all in the name of God. It made the cult leader so stiff, he could hardly keep his composure.

You whined softly, shuddering underneath his touch, your hand forming a fist, gripping Yunho’s hair tighter and tighter, the longer he licked at your slit and sucked on your clit like a starved man. “Yunho, please…I won’t last much longer….”

“Would that be such a sin, angel? If you released onto my tongue?” Yunho asked in between lingering licks, his tongue hot and heavy against your leaking cunt, using two fingers to keep your fluttering hole on display for his viewing pleasure, his silver talons gently pressing into your soft flesh. He wondered if he should continue admiring the mess of cum he painted your walls with, or use his saliva-streaked tongue and lips to slurp it out of you, his free hand attempting to milk his slick, throbbing cock. Decisions, decisions.

Yunho wouldn’t have the time to make one, because just then, the cult leader’s most trusted confidant, Song Mingi, knocked on the door and entered without being granted permission, very aware of the privileges he had as a respected elder. The white-haired man saw the nude, disheveled state you were in, your white ceremonial garments laying in a pile on the floor, the love-struck look in your teary, doe eyes, your trembling, marked-up legs still obediently spread open wide for your savior, knowing you’d let Yunho fill and abuse your poor cunt until he saw fit.

“Elder Song, are you going to continue standing there drooling like a dog or are you going to come here?” Yunho asked gruffly, rubbing the pad of his thumb relentlessly into your clit, all while he glowered at the younger man over his shoulder.

Mingi quickly strided over to his leader’s side, sinking to his knees, looking up at him with his apologetic, round eyes. “I…have news, sir. It is of great importance.”

Yunho shook his head slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “The news can wait, Mingi,” the cult leader began softly, reaching over to caress the other man’s cheek, making sure the younger man’s gaze was fixed solely on him. “Can I ask you for something?”

Mingi nodded intently, his lips parted, taking short breaths, as if he was waiting with great anticipation. “Anything, Savior. What do you need from me?”

It was then that Yunho brought the tip of his reddened cock to Mingi’s mouth, drops of pre-cum getting onto his plump, parted lips, his once softened gaze contorting into one of pure perversion. “Can you be a good boy and open up? Hm, princess?”

Mingi closed his eyes, as an attempt to hide the way they rolled underneath his eyelids and the influx of arousal that had spread throughout his body like a virus, his sudden heavy breathing and flushed cheeks betraying him. “Yes, savior,” he moaned out, just as Yunho’s stiff cock filled up his drooling mouth, trying his best not to choke as he repeatedly took it down his tight throat.

Yunho tossed his head back, a few drops of sweat sliding along his straining jaw and staining the bed below, gripping the back of Mingi’s head to make sure he didn’t stop worshiping his cock. “That’s it, princess. You’re taking it so well.”

Mingi groaned wantonly, beginning to grind his own leaking cock against the side of the bed, not even caring that his knees began to ache from being pressed into the hardwood floor below. He found himself gazing down at you, his body on fire from being watched by his savior’s favorite angel, beginning to gag around Yunho’s thick length once he began ramming it down his throat with abandon.

When you let out a small whine from witnessing such a visceral display of power and submission taking place right in front of you, Yunho reminded you with shaky words, “Don’t worry, my angel, this is all for you. Mingi here is going to transfer my love to you once I…Oh, God–”

Mingi’s gaze returned to his savior above, a few tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, his jaw aching from the way Yunho bottomed out completely inside his bulging throat, only to find his oxygen supply suddenly being cut off when the older man pinched his nose.

“You trust me, don’t you, princess?” Yunho asked in an eerily calm tone, not bothering to hide his sadistic tendencies in that moment, throbbing inside the young man’s throat upon seeing his small nods and hearing the tiny, breathless squeaks he made. It was then that he held Mingi completely still until his face began to grow red.

Just when he thought he might pass out, his vision sporting a fuzziness around the edges that reminded him of the television set Yunho had put inside the community room, his throat had finally become unblocked. As he gasped for air, he watched Yunho’s eyes roll into his skull, hot, white ropes of cum splattering onto Mingi’s lolled-out tongue. Before he could swallow, Yunho grabbed his chin and guided him in between your legs.

“Impregnate her, princess. For me,” Yunho whispered into Mingi’s ear, his digits forming a V against your pulsing cunt, spreading you open for Elder Song.

Not letting a drop go to waste, Mingi pursed his lips and sent a wad of cum directly into you, before shoving his tongue in as deep as it would go. He fucked the warm milkiness into you, with sloppy desperation, like the demon dog he was. He looked up to you for approval, which you gave, through your cries of pleasure and your fingers suddenly tugging at his snow white hair. He didn’t even realize he had lost his own composure, until he was whining and whimpering against your slick cunt, soiling his once pristine garments with his sticky load.

Once Yunho watched Mingi pull his tongue out, a few strands of milky saliva connecting his plump lips to your cunt, the cult leader tapped your puffy pussy. “Good boy. Can you fill her up with those thick fingers of yours now?”

Mingi huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath, his pupils blown wide when he looked to Yunho for guidance. “Two? Three? How many, sir?”

“As many as you need to make sure my seed reaches her womb,” Yunho reassured in a gravelly voice, watching as Mingi hovered over you, drops of saliva falling from his open mouth and onto your pleasured face, easily slipping in three fingers up to his knuckles.

Yunho leisurely flicked, squeezed, and rolled your puffy clit, admiring Mingi’s relentless pursuit in finger-fucking you into a state of pure ecstasy, throbbing at the sight of his precious loads dripping down along the other man’s straining wrist and along his veined forearm. “Very good, princess. She’ll be nice and round soon, thanks to your support. Your hard work won’t go unnoticed.”

Mingi bit down into his bottom lip, a few groans slipping out, despite his effort to conceal just how much his leader’s praise affected him. “Thank you, Savior. Now, I’ll make your angel cry out to the Lord,” he began breathily, locking eyes with Yunho for a moment, their digits working in tandem to send you over the edge, their focus returning to you. “Let it be done.”

“Amen,” Yunho sighed, bringing his precious rosary up to his mouth to kiss, the metal cold against his warm lips.

When you began to writhe around, your focus shifting to the various crosses that were nailed to the wall, your forceful release causing your bruised body to seize up, the cult leader suddenly grabbed your chin with his talons, the tips of them stabbing into your skin, drawing blood, making you whimper. His crazed eyes bored into your barely open ones, looking as if he was about to come undone himself, despite not touching himself. “You see it, don’t you, Y/N? Heaven? Isn’t it beautiful?”

It was all too much. The pain. The pleasure. Elder Song watching closely as your squirt soaked his tan skin and the mattress underneath your jolting body, a demonic smile painting his sharp, seraphic face. Your savior clutching you so tight that you bled, his seed blossoming within your womb. It was then that you fell unconscious, your body falling limp against the feather-filled quilt.

Yunho ran his jewelry-adorned fingers along your jaw, letting them graze your neck, down to the cross necklace that laid against your chest. “What did you need to tell me, Mingi?”

Mingi pushed his sweaty bangs back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to find his composure. “We have two new visitors. They mentioned Y/N by name, and claimed that they grew up in the same orphanage as her. They were hoping to find her here, so that they could…”

Yunho turned his head to glare at Mingi, his gaze alone making Mingi cower. “They want to take her away from me, don’t they? From us? From God?”

Mingi began to scratch at his neck, leaving red streaks behind. “They believe that they can provide her with a better life.”

“And what life could be better than one of enlightenment? Of purity? What could those heathens possibly offer my Y/N that I can’t?” Yunho suddenly erupted, his anger being directed towards Mingi, who lowered his head down, staring at the cross that hung past his chest.

Yunho’s face twitched slightly, his once rage-filled expression dissipating as soon as it had surfaced, as if it had never been there in the first place. It was a simple trick of the light. He placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, until the unusually timid man found the courage to meet his gaze. “Mingi.”

“Sir?”

Yunho hummed to himself, catching onto the way your breath hitched, as if you had suddenly held it, his honey brown eyes gleaming with pride, and something else, something indistinguishable. “Offer them a room and dinner, oh, and invite our guests to the annual communion on Sunday.”

“Right away, sir,” Mingi replied, getting up from the bed and exiting the room. He pressed his back into the mahogany door and shut his eyes, carefully sliding his fingers into his drooling mouth to savor the taste of his savior’s seed and his angel’s release.

Once he was alone with you, Yunho reached down to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes, smiling knowingly at the sight of them opening. “How much did you hear, sweet girl?”

“Enough,” you whispered carefully, as if you were testing him. You might have been the flower inside his clutches, but you still had thorns.

Yunho began to chuckle softly, before it grew louder and louder, his pleased laughter ringing out through the halls.

One of your threads was beginning to come undone. Nothing a little stitching couldn’t fix.

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

blinding faith taglist: @onerubii @ateez-atiny380 @holytidalwavechees3cake @frzzenfrxg @spaceunicorn293 @neosexuals @leehangf @booyoungie @boosberrie @cann1balistic @certainsaturn (if you cannot be tagged pls check your privacy settings <3)

general taglist: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #kpop smut

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megumishotgf · 7 months

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more and more (jjk mainly) fic recs (pt. iii)♡

hello and welcome to more of my fic recs!! credit to all these talented writers, pls check out their other works too!! featuring: (jjk) megumi, yuuji, satoru, suguru, toji (mha) katuski (lmao just for the one post because it NEEDED to be shared) masterlist recs pt. i pt. ii

: ̗̀➛ megumi fushiguro x reader

megumi thinks about how whipped (he is while impatiently waiting for you to text back)

fucking megumi in his baseball uniform (lengthier fic with dom! megumi... omg)

sharing a bed and cuddling (so soft i'm crying. i'm unsure if i've linked this before)

racer a.u. w/ bf megumi (in physical agony because i need this)

megumi is obsessed with yuuji's bimbo gf (i love LOVE love bimbo reader fics AHH)

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader

your kid shows you an ugly drawing (similar to the katsuki scenario i linked last time, so funny!!)

satoru comforts you after you have a nightmare (so fluffy and sweet... i'm bawling)

age gap w/ satoru, he teaches you to fuck (younger reader. god i love this)

satoru proposes to you :(( (i'm crying)

satoru fucking his chubby gf (help my pussy's gone crazy)

more satoru w/ chubby gf (so so much praise)

: ̗̀➛ geto suguru x reader

arguing with then fucking your ex suguru who is now a cult leader (omfg)

suguru fingers you during movie night w/ satoru and shoko (wow this fic definitely hit the spot. one of my favourites on this list)

'no one's made me cum before' (now this is relatable)

you're babysitting nanako + mimiko and are about to fuck their dad (ahhhhhh)

y/n is insecure and can't tell suguru ('it's not what he's made for' some heavy angst for the sick fucks that enjoy it)

step brother! suguru teaches you how to kiss (this damn fandom makes me read so much stepcest. disgusting! *saved immediately*)

suguru wonders if he should cut his hair (fluffy!! but the last line made me want to burst into tears!!)

: ̗̀➛ toji fushiguro x reader

smutty fic w/ crybaby reader (it's me i'm the crybaby. this author has SO many good toji fics, i linked one of their prison bf fics last time!!)

toji is so so big but he makes it fit (major size kink!!)

: ̗̀➛ yuuji itadori x reader

finally fucking roommate! yuuji (i am shocked this doesn't have more likes it was such an incredible read)

virgin! yuuji headcanons (he's just so whiney and such a good boy. omg i love fics where y/n is the more experienced one)

giggly sex drabble (the best type of sex i need more fics like this)

yuuji can't jack off to jennifer lawrence anymore because of YOU! (i think this initiated a yuuji phase for me...)

: ̗̀➛ katsuki bakugou x reader

gq couples quiz w/ katsuki (i am shocked this doesn't have ten thousand likes. it's perfect the characterisation is perfect. pls check out the creator's masterlist here everything is so so good)

multiple characters (jjk drabbles)

using your safe word (satoru + suguru)

boyfriend texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge + choso)

riding, missionary or doggy? (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso. btw the right answer is doggy)

bf texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso, megumi, toge + yuuji)

unholy drabbles!! (toji, satoru + kento)

cute texts during your period!! (satoru, choso, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge)

: ̗̀➛ also multiple characters (drabbles w/ unspecified names then characters listed at the end? i don't know how to describe this sorry lol)

eating you out sloppily omg (aot + jjk + genshin + demon slayer)

tits, ass or thighs? (bleach + jjk + jjba + one piece + csm)

men that are obsessed with thick women (jjk + kny + aot + tokyo revengers)

general fucking headcanons (jjk + aot + haikyuu + tokyo revengers + genshin + sk8 + csm)

quick question!! should i still link the really successful fics / blogs (like 4k+ notes, some have up to 15k!!), as i'm sure you will have already encountered them in their respective tags? in other words, should i focus on linking fics that are less interacted with? pls let me know <3

#jjk x reader #mha x reader #megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #katsuki x reader #toji x reader #jjk fic recs #jjk drabbles

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stevieschrodinger · 2 months

Text

Part One Two four

A small note: if you would like to be added to the tagging list please ask in a reply to the post, I won't check elsewhere.

Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #pre steddie #the party #my writing #steddie dreamed life

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andvys · 3 months

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Warnings: slight angst, jealousy, lots of jealousy (from both sides), insecurities, mentions of unrequited love, alcohol and weed consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You agreed to Steve's deal, and now all that you do, is wait by the phone... for his call.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: Things are getting a little more serious now, you can expect a lot of jealousy in this chapter, and in the next two. @hellfire--cult and I came up with some gooood ideas, so enjoy hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Your body feels warm, aching in some places, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling, you welcome it, knowing what or who caused it. You smell his shampoo, his body wash on the pillow your head lies on, you smell his cologne, the one that always makes your heart flutter.

When you slowly open your eyes, you’re not surprised to find him facing away from you, you're met by his sun kissed back.

You blink, still waking up.

You eye the moles on his skin, the scars on his back from where the bats had dragged him away. You wish to touch them, to trace them with your fingertips, to kiss his skin and bless him with better memories, but you can’t. And it’s not like memories of you and your touches would bless him, in any way.

The thing between you, his feelings, his actions are purely driven by lust, nothing more, nothing less. You won’t raise your hopes up, this is bad enough as it is.

What would your teen self think if she saw you now?

What would she say to you if she saw you lying in Steve Harrington’s bed?

The version of you now, is happy, content with what she has, even if she doesn’t actually have him.

But what matters now? Nothing. Just him, just you and him. That’s all that matters now, that’s all that will matter, for now.

Your mind wants to take you back to all those dark places you have been in, to all the feelings you have experienced since Steve had taken a hold of your heart. – Jealousy, rejection, heartache and pain.

And his words from the night before come back to haunt you.

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.”

You can’t lie to yourself, it did sting a little, it did make your stomach churn, it did make you feel sick to think of him with someone else after being with you, while being with you.

It also hurt to wake up without him, it hurt all day to think that all he did was use you, that he took what he wanted and left. – You never expected the explanation he gave you last night, you also didn’t expect the softness of his hands, the gentle touches and kisses as he told you what really happened. Your chest still aches with guilt for treating him the way you did last night, but you were driven by sadness and you can’t help but feel that he did deserve it… a little.

With a sigh, you turn away from him, pushing the shared blanket off your body, you place your feet on the ground and take a look around his room.

You grip the sheets beneath you, looking at all the items in his room before you look over your shoulder, back at him, back at the pillow you just slept on.

How many girls have occupied this space before?

How many girls has he touched the way he touched you?

How many girls have been kissed by him the same way you’ve been?

You had never kissed anyone the way you kissed him.

You also never touched anyone the same way you touched him.

He is so special to you, but you aren’t to him.

And you never will be.

You grow annoyed with yourself, shouldn’t you be happy? Shouldn’t you be in complete and utter bliss, knowing that he wants you enough to do this?

You close your eyes, and you take a deep breath before you push yourself off the bed.

You shut out your negative thoughts, letting your curiosity in. You tiptoe across his room and stop in front of his bookshelf – that’s filled with more comics and movies than books. A polaroid camera sitting on the shelf, next to a fake plant. Of course, he got himself a fake plant.

The dresser next to the window is decorated with a big lamp and a few pictures that spark your interest. You sneak a glance at him to find him still sound asleep.

You’re not surprised to find pictures of your friends on his dresser, of the teens, of Eddie and Robin, of the whole group. None of you, not even on the group pictures that Jonathan keeps taking whenever you all hang out – that might be your own fault though, you never felt comfortable enough to join the group pictures, you still don’t consider yourself a part of it, even now.

But you can’t help but wonder, would he have cut out the parts of you if you had been on those pictures?

You close your eyes again, taking a deep breath as you’re willing yourself to calm down, to stop overthinking, to stop being so negative when what you got is now finally in reach.

You get to be with him, you get to touch him, you get to feel his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, him. And even when there isn’t any intimacy, even when there aren’t any feelings on his side, you can just pretend, for those little moments, you can pretend.

You open your eyes again, and look around for your clothes that Steve took from your hands last night after you changed into one of his shirts. You find them neatly folded on the chair by his desk, your denim jacket thrown over the back.

It’s time to go home, even when you’d like to stay longer.

You make your way over to your clothes, you stand with your back to him as you take his shirt off, standing in his room in nothing but your panties for a moment. You fold his shirt and place it on his desk, already missing the smell of it and the way it felt to wear something of his.

You don’t even feel his eyes on you as you start putting your clothes on, starting with your bra before you reach for your skirt, you bend down as you put it on, zipping it shut on the side.

Steve is now lying on his back, his right arm behind his head as he watches you, feeling a little disappointed that you are getting dressed and ready to go home.

He watches, and stares at you for as long as he can before you notice him.

He takes in every little scar on your soft skin, the way your hair falls down your shoulders, the way your skin is glowing beneath the stream of light that shines through the curtains.

The moment your top is on and you bend down to put your shoes on, Steve clears his throat.

“Leaving so soon?” Steve’s groggy voice sounds through the silent room.

You freeze at the sound of his voice, the rough noise causing shivers to run down your spine.

Who would’ve thought that you’d ever get to hear Steve Harrington’s morning voice?

You close your eyes as you knit your eyebrows together. You shouldn’t have waited so long to leave. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes again, and straighten your back as you finish tying the laces of your converse. You plaster a smile on your face before you turn around to face him.

“Figured our little deal doesn’t include coffee and breakfast,” you joke, reaching for your jacket.

Steve’s eyes move up and down your body, before they settle on your neck where the marks on your skin are perfectly visible to him. You hate the way your heart flutters at such a small action of his.

“Says who?”

You try not to stare at him, but it’s hard not to when he looks this good. A tired look in his features, hair all messy, hairy chest on full display. You dig your nails into your denim jacket as your eyes move to his neck, the scar around it always dragging you into a trance like state, as you catch yourself daydreaming about peppering his skin with kisses.

“I dunno,” you shrug, tearing your eyes away from his body and meeting his eyes instead, “I think that’s girlfriend privilege.”

He cracks a smile at your words, eyes flashing with amusement, “didn’t know Eddie was my girlfriend.”

A laugh falls from your lips as you roll your eyes and shake your head.

Eddie stayed over at his place countless of times, ever since those two have gotten closer, ‘sleepovers’ have become a regular thing, especially after a long night of smoking weed and drinking beers in Steve’s backyard. Usually, Eddie just passes out on the couch though, and Steve ends up throwing a random blanket over him.

Just like at your house, Eddie raids Steve’s fridge and snack drawers, all the damn time.

“Well, your girlfriend might be upset if he finds out that you fucked his best friend, last night,” you joke only to grow flustered a few seconds after those words leave your lips.

But, Steve smirks at you, smugness flickering in his eyes.

“Huh,” he pushes himself up on his elbows, running his fingers through his hair, “guess it’s gonna be our dirty little secret then,” he winks.

Dirty little secret.

Yeah, that’s all it will ever be.

That’s all you will ever be.

A dirty little secret.

You gulp, swallowing down the hurt as you nod at his words.

“Yeah…” You scratch the back of your neck before you point to his door, “I’m uh… I’m gonna go.”

His smile falls a little, eyes growing serious as he sits up, the blanket now only covering his lower half.

“I can drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s nice out, I’m just gonna take a walk, maybe stop by the coffee shop or something.”

He nods, still eying you, “a-and are you feeling okay?”

You raise your brows at him, “hmm?”

“I-I mean,” he stutters, awkwardly looking around the room before his eyes meet yours again, “it’s just… the information leaflet said that it can cause some side effects, the Plan B thing… I mean. Nausea, dizziness, upset stomach,” he starts listing the things, counting them down with his fingers as his cheeks flush red.

Your eyes soften, heart fluttering at his concern. You’re even a little taken aback by how much he cares but then again, it might just be the guilt he feels, knowing that he’s partly at fault for this in the first place.

“N-No, I’m okay,” you assure him, watching the way the tension in his shoulders disappears. “I’m feeling fine so far.”

He nods, “okay, good.”

“Yeah, so… I uh…” You trail off, lifting your hand to point at the door again, watching him nod again. You turn on your heel and walk away, not knowing when you will see him again.

You settled on this thing between you, you set up the rules, but what you didn’t talk about was how this whole thing will actually play out.

Just as you open the door, his voice makes you halt in your tracks, you turn your head to look back at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Hey Blondie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we gonna… hang out later?”

Hang out.

You almost want to giggle.

You tap your nails against the door, eying the smug, yet flustered look on his face as he looks at you expectedly.

“Yeah,” you nod. “You can call me.”

He tilts his head to the side, licking his lips, “mhm, or you can call me,” he smirks, almost mockingly.

“Sure.”

Neither of you called.

In fact, there is nothing but radio silence between the two of you, the moment you leave his house.

And, it frustrates you to no end, because all you want to do is to see him, to feel him again, but all you get is absolutely nothing. And, it only makes you more insecure, it only fills you with more self doubt.

If he wanted you, he would’ve called.

Right?

You thought he’d call by Monday night, he didn’t.

You spent all Tuesday, waiting for the phone to ring, but it never did.

You could’ve called too, he even told you to, but for some reason, you thought that it was just another way to tease you, you heard the mocking tone in his voice, you saw the smirk he looked at you with.

And yet, you picked up the phone a few times with the intention to just call him and ask him to come over but you slammed the receiver back into place every single time. It didn’t feel right to make the first move, every time you tried to, rejection followed. And even though he was the one who offered you the deal, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make a first move, no matter what had already happened between you both.

It’s only Wednesday now, it’s only been two days since you had last seen him, and yet it feels like you haven’t seen him in weeks.

It makes you frustrated and sad at the same time, but unlike yesterday, you can’t mop around in your bedroom all day, waiting by the phone like some lovesick teenager.

And you can’t show your sadness either, you can’t let your best friend know what kind of war you’re fighting in your head.

Steve is your secret and you are his.

His dirty little secret.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Eddie asks as he’s scarving down the burgers and fries he brought from the diner, his new friend works at. He’s been spending a lot of time there, lately.

You push around the fries on your plate, the cheeseburger only halfway eaten.

“I’m just a slow eater,” you shrug, dipping a fry into the ketchup before you take a bite.

Eddie’s brown eyes flash with amusement, “mhm, except for when you’re high.”

“That’s another version of me, Eds.”

“Uh huh,” he chuckles, taking another bite of his burger, the bite being large enough to make half of it disappear.

You chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you place your elbow on the kitchen table, continuing to eat your fries. You look out the window, eying the gray clouds in the sky and the wind in the trees, a storm is nearing and it’s making your stomach churn and your skin crawl.

You have always hated storms, the heavy wind that howls through the night, the strong rain that hits the windows harshly, thunder that makes you flinch after every crash and the lightning has always made you feel uneasy.

You hated being left alone in this house during thunderstorms, but your parents were gone, and your sister was rarely ever around at nights, so you had to find ways to calm yourself down, usually you did it by putting on headphones and turning the volume up high enough to drown out the noises of the storm outside, it helped. Music always helped.

But the night in the Upside Down changed everything, which is ironic, you always thought that an extreme situation would have killed your fear, but it didn’t, it only worsened it, and now not even music helps anymore.

“Are you gonna stay for a while?”

Eddie raises his brows as he reaches for his drink, eying your face.

You know he can read you, you know that he can see right through you. He is one of the only ones who can – and it scares you. Not because you don’t want him to know about your fears or your struggles, there is really nothing that you hide from him at this point… Nothing but that one thing, that one thing that no one can know about, not even Eddie.

“Yeah, I thought we could watch a movie, I brought some,” he points in the direction of the hallway, where he left some tapes on the counter.

You nearly sigh out loud, feeling relieved.

You wouldn’t want to be alone right now.

Thunder crashes in the distance, not loud enough to make you flinch, but enough to fill you with dread.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile before you look out the window again, continuing to watch the clouds move, missing the way his eyes widen and the way he nearly chokes on his soda as he stares at your neck, at the marks you forgot to cover up before he came over.

“What the hell!”

The volume of his voice makes you flinch harder than the loud thunder that just crashed before the yell escaped his lips. You look back at him, bewildered, only to find him staring at your neck, already jumping from his seat and rounding the table to get to you.

You’re confused for a moment, staring at him with a frown, but when he stops in front of you, and he lifts your hair up to take a closer look at your neck, at the hickeys Steve had left, you nearly gasp yourself.

How could you have been so stupid?

How could you forget to cover them up?

Eddie stares at them for a moment, for a really long moment, before his confused eyes meet yours, “who gave these to you!?”

You can’t give him the truth, Steve would certainly break things off with you if you did – if he hasn’t already.

Blood rushes to your cheek the longer your best friend stares at you, waiting for an explanation.

“I uh… I had a uh… booty call?”

This would normally be the moment, where he’d laugh in your face, knowing that this is a lie. But he is too surprised to look deeper into your eyes.

“This is the first time I know you actually had sex, and you didn’t plan to tell me!?” He lets go of your hair, stepping back and throwing his arms up.

“It’s nothing special!” You lie, your eyes following him as he returns back to his seat, “h-he was just, he’s a guy that’s here because of a friend! I met him once at one of my sister's college parties…”

He is still in shock, his eyes are still glued to your neck.

“What’s his name?”

You swallow, placing your hands into your lap, you dig your nails into your palms, taking deep breaths as you try to appear calm.

“Why do you care, you don’t know him.”

“Exactly,” he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, “so what’s the issue in telling me?”

He is now looking at your flustered face, and you are glad that he can’t actually read your mind, or else you’d be screwed as you’re trying to figure out a name to give him.

“...Chandler…”

His eyes grow wide, smirk falling a bit. He uncrosses his arms, reaching for his drink again as he sighs, “now I understand why you didn’t want to tell me his name.”

You clear your throat, the tension in your body dissolving a little.

“Uh huh…”

“So how was it?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

It was… perfect.

Yeah, your nights with Steve were the best moments of your life. He made you feel things you have never felt before. He made you feel alive yet like you existed in some other world, a better place.

As you look into your best friend's eyes, you realize that now is the perfect opportunity to let it all out, to tell him things that you’ve been wanting to get off your shoulders, because maybe then, this will get easier for you. Maybe.

So you open your mouth and you start talking, without mentioning Steve’s name or anything else that could give you and him away.

You talk and you talk, and you get carried away, and yet, nothing eases the ache in your stomach or the one in your chest.

Just nothing.

If anything, talking about it makes it all only worse because it somehow strengthens every memory of him.

And, your memories are a blessing and a curse at the same time, they take you back to his kisses, to his lips that sucked marks on your skin, they remind you of how it felt to feel him inside of you, to hear him moaning your name, to feel him holding you close, to know that he felt good because of you.

But then, they also take you back to an unpleasant memory, and you can’t even stop yourself from thinking about it, not even as you sit before Eddie, not even as you both make your way into the living room to watch the movies he picked out, and surprisingly, not even the storm can stop the thoughts in your head.

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.”

His words keep echoing in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder, is he already seeing someone else?

Is he touching someone else?

Is he kissing someone else?

Is he feeling good because of someone else?

Is he moaning someone else’s name as he had long forgotten about you?

Is that the reason why he never called?

He wouldn’t, would he? It’s only been two days.

He wouldn’t sleep with someone else… not so soon, at least, right?

Days and sleepless nights haunt you, just like the questions that keep piling up inside your troubled mind, it makes you feel restless.

There is nothing but Steve on your mind and it’s nothing new, but it feels different now after what had happened between you and him.

You long for him, your body yearns for him but you stay away, because maybe this is what he wants, days have passed and he didn’t call or come to see you, surely it must be what he wants, maybe he changed his mind about the deal, about you.

You’re proven wrong when you find yourself at Eddie’s pool ‘party’ on Friday afternoon, five days after you had walked out of Steve’s house.

The sun is shining, not a single cloud in sight, not a single trace of the storm that had crashed over the town only two days back.

The heat is beating down on your skin, but it’s a pleasant feeling as you lie on one of the pool loungers between Nancy and Max. Your sunglasses perched on your nose, hair falling down your shoulders as you keep adjusting it every few seconds or so, hoping that no one else will see the marks Steve left behind, you had done your best to cover them with makeup but that didn’t stick to your skin long enough, one jump into the pool and the layer was gone.

His eyes are glued on you and your pink bikini, and you can’t help but feel smug, despite all the insecurities that have lingered all week. You keep biting back your smirk whenever you catch him staring, and you watch how his cheeks flush red and he grows flustered before he hides it with his own smirk and a cocky look on his face.

You’ve greeted each other the way you always do, with suggestive smiles and cryptic words that only you two understand the meaning behind.

You haven’t talked much since he came though, but you keep brushing past each other, eying one another with that one look in your eyes when your hands reach out to touch each other, even if only for a short second.

Now you keep glancing at him, waiting for him to finally take his stupid white shirt off, but he seems content, standing in the shadows with a beer in his hand as he chats with Eddie.

“I missed this,” Nancy says, “tanning and not worrying about a single thing.”

You tear your eyes away from Steve and turn to look at her. Nancy is wearing a blue swimsuit, her curls in a messy bun, white framed sunglasses protecting her eyes from the scorching sun. You can’t help but stare at her, eying the girl that you once were so jealous of.

Nancy is beautiful, effortlessly so. She’s got those pretty doe eyes and the luscious curls that frame her face so perfectly. She’s a pretty sight to look at – you’re surprised to see that Steve’s eyes aren’t glued on her.

But her beauty was never the reason for your jealousy.

“Yeah, me too,” you murmur as you reach for the cocktail Eddie had made for you.

“I don’t know how you can enjoy it,” Max mumbles beside you, and you can’t help but chuckle, you’ve been waiting for her to start complaining. “I’m gonna look like a tomato if I keep sitting out here.”

You push your sunglasses up into your hair, watching as she gets up from the lounger.

You chuckle at her.

“I’m jumping into the water, I’m sick of the sun.”

She storms off, flipping her red hair over her shoulder before she jumps into the pool, joining Lucas, Mike and Will.

You sip on your cocktail, eyes moving back to Steve, just in time to see him finally taking his shirt off. He throws it over one of the chairs by the table, and lifts his hand up to run it through his hair, flexing his bicep as he turns his body to you as he steps into the sun.

You dig your teeth into the straw as you let your eyes roam his body. The hair on his chest, the scars on his sides, the scar around his neck, all looking so beautiful under the light. You see the smirk on his lips when he catches you ogling him, and you don’t even bother to hide it, to look away and play it cool.

But your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull and you almost choke on the sip you just took when Eddie’s eyes grow comically wide as he takes a look at Steve’s back. Your best friend’s jaw drops before a gasp falls from his lips.

You don’t need to think twice about what’s gotten him this shocked, you left marks on Steve, just like he left some on you – but yours are more aggressive.

While it’s only hickeys on your skin, it’s scratch marks on his.

Your heart jumps a little when you realize that Eddie could easily put two and two together and figure out that you didn’t sleep with Chandler or that Steve didn’t fuck Heidi – that they weren’t the ones who left marks on yours and his skin.

But before Eddie can even ask him any questions, he’s suddenly hit with a forceful stream of water coming from Dustin’s water gun. A different kind of gasp tears from his lips, and his face flashes with confusion before a deadpan expression takes over as he looks down at himself, water now dripping from his face, hair and his shoulders.

He looks around, searching for the culprit when he finds Dustin, hiding behind one of the bushes.

“You little shit!” He yells as he puts his beer on the table, he grabs one of the water guns, filling it up with water before he runs towards Dustin, who instantly jumps away from the bushes and runs into the opposite direction.

Steve shakes his head at them, watching them run around in the backyard, almost running into El, Robin and Vickie, who are in the middle of a little photo shoot with poor Jonathan – who hates being out in the sun, especially for this long.

You are still playing with your straw as you eye the male who stole your heart and your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Nancy asks as she sits up, reaching for her own cocktail before she turns to face you, forcing you to look away from her ex boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

With a small smile on her face, she tilts her head to the side as she looks at you. You notice how red her cheeks have gotten, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the sun or the question she is about to ask.

She looks down, eyeing your necklace and the pink bikini top that she complimented before.

You stare at her curiously.

You and Nancy aren’t the closest, you get along, you talk whenever you see each other, there is never any awkwardness between the two of you, but still, you aren’t the closest.

“I know we haven’t talked much, but um… I was wondering– cause… I love Robin, seriously but– okay um…” she stutters, closing her eyes for a moment as she shakes her head before she opens her eyes again and looks back up, “I was gonna ask if you would like to go shopping with me?”

You're stunned.

With widened eyes, you stare at her, taking in the sight of her nervous face, cheeks growing redder when she’s met by your silence.

“Why me?”

“Like I said… I love Robin but her style… she always complains it's too girly when I show her something I want to buy,” she rolls her eyes as a smile tugs at her lips, “and you… you always look good, I love your skirts and dresses.”

Your eyes soften, blood rushes to your cheeks at her compliment.

You and Nancy have something in common, it was the reason why you started talking in the first place, after she find out who Chrissy was to you, she approached you, she offered you her condolences – she had a deep understanding in what it’s like to lose a close friend, she lost hers too.

You both lost that one girl friend.

“Thanks, Nancy. I’d love to go shopping with you.”

You watch the way her eyes light up, and you can’t help but feel surprised that someone like her feels excitement because of someone like you.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say as a smile appears on your face.

“Cool,” she smiles at you, unable to hide the giddiness in her voice.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you ladies, but would you like me to take a picture of you, before I drop the camera and never pick it up again today?” Jonathan asks as he stops in front of the two of you, with cheeks glowing red, thanks to the sun, and an exhausted look on his face, thanks to the three girls that forced him to be their photographer for the past hour or so.

Nancy giggles at her boyfriend.

“Sure, let's take a pic!”

First she wants to go shopping with you, and now she wants to take pictures with you. You can’t lie to yourself and act like it doesn’t touch your heart a little.

You hide your eyes behind the sunglasses again, not wanting to give away just how surprised you are by all of this.

You lean closer to her, holding your drink up a little as you smile into the camera – not feeling his eyes on you.

Steve is unaware of the smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you pose and smile next to Nancy, a giggle falling from your lips when Nancy whispers something to you. You lean even closer, wrapping your arm around the other girl as you grin into the camera.

Something bubbles in Steve’s chest, a feeling he can’t make out, but suddenly, he wishes that he was the one next to you, that he could be the one taking a picture with you.

He could. He could be the one, if he asked for it.

But how would that make him look?

What would you think of that?

You would certainly laugh at that and tease him, right?

He sighs and looks away from you when you’re done taking pictures, only to find Lucas staring at him, a smug look on his face as he wiggles his brows at him.

Steve clenches his jaw, rolling his eyes at the boy, he lifts his hand, pointing at him, “don’t even.”

Lucas smirks, swimming closer to the edge of the pool, “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

Steve doesn’t even hear the footsteps behind him, focused on the boy in front of him.

“It’s so cute how you keep checking out your girlfriend,” Lucas giggles.

Steve runs his hand down his face, groaning, “she’s not my… listen you little shit–”

“God,” Dustin appears next to him, no water gun in his hand any longer, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath after running around the backyard.

Steve turns his head to look at him, but Dustin’s eyes are glued on Nancy, thinking that she was the one he was checking out.

He’s got it all wrong, so so wrong.

“Gotta let her go, man. I don’t know how many times–”

Steve rolls his eyes, he takes a step back and places his hands on Dustin’s back, shoving him into the pool.

He shrieks loudly before he goes down, the water splashes around him, tearing laughs out of Steve, Lucas and Max when the teen resurfaces, gasping and glaring at him. He grabs his cap that is now floating around in the water.

“My cap! You got it wet!” He shrieks again.

Max laughs at him, “you’re so dramatic, nerd.”

Steve is laughing, enjoying the shocked expression on Dustin’s face, when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Stevie,” you purr into his ear.

Shivers run down his spine, an exciting feeling bubbling in his stomach as he turns around to face you, a smirk already tugging at his lips when his eyes meet yours.

You look at him innocently, tilting your head to the side as you flash him a smile.

“Hi blondi–”

You mimic his action, and push him into the water the way he did to Dustin.

“Hah!” Dustin laughs in triumph, pointing at Steve with a smug look on his face before he looks at you, “thank you, you’re much cooler!”

“Told you she is,” Max shrugs at him, making you laugh.

Mike and Will laugh at your action.

Steve flips his hair, turning to face you with a groan that quickly turns into a wince as he holds his hand in front of his left eye, scrunching his nose up in pain.

Your smile quickly falls and you take a step closer as he starts swimming back to the edge.

“Shit!” He curses, still holding his hand up, “chlorine got way into my fucking eye!”

You bend down as he swims closer, concern flashes in your eyes, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the smug basketball player next to Dustin, or Will who always watches closely when you’re around Steve.

“Fuck, Lego head…” you murmur as you reach your hand out to cup his cheek, “let me see–”

Suddenly, Steve lunges forward, using the hand that just hid his eye to grab yours, he opens both eyes and greets you with a smirk before he pulls you into the water.

Of course you fell for it.

You shut your eyes and hold your breath before your body hits the cold. The water envelopes your whole body, shocking it a little after spending the past few hours lying under the sun.

You swim back up, only to be met by a laughing Steve who stares at you smugly.

The teens are laughing behind you.

“Ha ha…” You splash some water at the male in front of you, making him laugh even harder.

“Come on, Blondie,” Steve chuckles, biting his lip as he swims closer to you, “that was fair.”

You swim back, putting some distance between you both while he tries to close it, playing a dangerous game out here, in front of everyone to see.

Your stomach flutters when his eyes roam the parts that aren’t hidden beneath the water. A lust filled look flashing in his hazel eyes as he continues staring at you like some hungry animal.

God, you can’t do this, not here, not now.

You turn away from Steve, stretching your arms out beneath the water, and trying to swim away from him, away from the teens who aren’t even looking between the two of you anymore, more focused on Argyle who’s yelling at them to come out of the water to play soccer.

You swim to the other side of the pool and Steve follows, he’s not even bothered by all the eyes that could follow, though he still looks around to make sure that no one’s watching.

You enjoy the coldness of the water, desperately needing it after being under the weight of his eyes. Not even the sun could fill you with such warmth that his looks fill you with.

You stop swimming when you feel the ground beneath you again. Sighing as you reach your hands out to hold onto the edges when you suddenly feel his hand on your butt.

You gasp in surprise, blood rushing to your face as your eyes widen.

He presses his chest against your back, chuckling at the gasp that fell from your lips. He squeezes your ass roughly.

“Steve!” You nearly shriek, looking around in panic.

Nancy and Jonathan are now sitting in the shadows, sitting close to each other as they talk.

The teens are now playing soccer with Argyle.

Robin and Vickie now cozied up on the pool loungers as they listen to Eddie, who’s telling them a story, dramatically as it seems, he keeps throwing his arms up.

“Relax,” He whispers into your ear, letting his fingers dig into your skin one more time before he hooks his finger around the string on your bottoms, fingers tracing the bow that you tied before he snaps the material back against your skin, “no one’s watching,” he says so confidently, though he missed one pair of eyes when he looked around at your friends.

He swims around you so he can see your flustered face, he smirks at you as he leans his back against the wall, eying you up and down.

You blink, trying to hide the shock in your features, your heart still racing at his action.

“Why didn’t you call?” You blurt out.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, eyes lighting up at your question, his smirk widens as he reaches for your hand under water, trying to pull you closer after looking over your shoulder, but you don’t budge, despite the fluttering in your heart, you don’t budge.

“Why didn’t you?” He retorts.

Because every time you wanted to, reminders of your past would come to haunt you.

You clench your jaw, and look down, instead of answering the question he threw right back at you, without giving you the explanation that you wanted.

If he wants to keep playing games, then so be it.

You push his hand away from yours, despite longing for more. You take a step forward, and lift your head, plastering a confident look on your face as you reach your hand out to hook your finger around the elastic band on his swim trunks, making him gulp.

“I was satisfied,” you shrug, lying right through your teeth.

He chuckles, licking his lips as he looks around, trying not to react to your touch, to your nails grazing his skin.

“Right, Blondie.”

You tilt your head at him, “what, you think you’re so irresistible, Lego head?” You ask, as you bring your hand back to your side and put some distance between you both again.

He shakes his head at you, smiling in amusement, “oh, you wanna continue this little back and forth then, huh?” He points between you both.

His spitcurl falls in front of his eyes, drops of water roll down his cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to follow those drops and watch as they fall down to his chest.

You don’t, but if it will keep him interested, then you are willing to do anything.

So you say, yes.

You keep playing the game, you keep teasing him, all day.

Whether you give him suggestive looks or tease him with the way you suck on the straw as you drink one cocktail after another, you bend down in front of him and touch him whenever no one is looking.

You play with him, just like you did before.

And it drives him crazy, you know it, you can see it – the fire behind his eyes only growing stronger and brighter, it’s what spurs you on.

When the teens are gone, Argyle and Eddie finally roll up some joints, Steve lights up the fire in the pit and Jonathan gets some more drinks from the fridge.

You all sit beneath the starry sky, the fire now lighting up the space around you, as music and laughter sounds through Eddie’s backyard.

You sit between Robin and Eddie, sipping on your fourth drink, your mind now hazy enough for you to let loose completely, giggling at anything your best friend whispers into your ear. You don’t even notice the sour looks you’re getting from the one who is sitting across from you.

Argyle and Robin are in some deep discussion about sex and relationships, the girl keeps scoffing at anything that leaves his lips.

Nancy and Jonathan watch the little banter unfold with amused looks on their faces.

“I’m just saying, I’m not even speaking out of experience, dude,” Argyle slurs, holding his hands up in surrender, “I think you can’t have sex with just one person and be happy with it – how can you even know what’s good when you’ve only been with one person!?”

Robin’s eyes roll far back as a frustrated groan escapes her.

“That is such a man thing to say!” She mumbles, tugging at her hair.

“It really is,” Vickie nods.

“You know, I actually kind of agree,” Nancy shrugs, taking a sip of her beer.

“With who?” Robin asks, tilting her head at the girl.

While everyone looks at Nancy, waiting for the answer, you look at Steve, watching him watch her.

“With Argyle.”

Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, and he quickly looks away from her and down at the joint between his fingers, he raises it up towards his mouth and places it between his lips.

You saw it, the flash of hurt, the pain behind his dark eyes.

And you can’t help but feel a pang of your own hurt, knowing how much he still mourns his past with her, how much it still hurts him that she isn’t his anymore, that he couldn’t make her happy, that he couldn’t make her feel the way Jonathan makes her feel.

“Oh wow,” Robin murmurs, looking down wide eyed.

“You gotta experiment!” Argyle says as she takes a look around, “as long as you’re single and you’re not hurting anyone, go around and have fun.”

Steve’s eyes find yours and he holds contact for a moment.

“Mhmm, I agree.” You nod. “But I think when you have that one person that you're deeply attracted to, both sexually and romantically, you can still have a lot of fun, you can experiment together and like, what do you need other people for when you have these types of feelings? You won’t get bored with that person.”

“Thank you!” Robin claps her hands together, “that’s what I’m talking about!”

“But, as long as you don’t have that person, you can just… experiment and have fun with others if you feel like it,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

Steve’s eyes are glued on you, a weird feeling tugging in his chest.

"Oh, really?" Your best friend smirks at you, leaning forward in his seat, he places his elbows on his knees, “and how many people have you experimented with?” He wiggles his brows, ‘knowing’ about the very recent one.

Suddenly, all eyes are on you, all filled with curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Argyle groans at you, and so does Eddie, while the others chuckle.

Steve, who watches you, not even expecting any other answer than ‘two guys’, knows about Billy and, well, himself. He passes the joint over to Robin and reaches for his beer instead.

“Come on, it’s a tight little circle, no secrets leave this,” Robin gestures to the group, “how many hearts did you break?”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, tugging the blanket closer to your body.

“Well, I have never broken any hearts before,” you start, avoiding his eyes, “but uh… there have been a… few… guys.”

You miss the way Steve freezes, the way he holds his beer midair as he was just about to take a sip from the can.

“Give us the number girl!” Eddie complains.

If you weren’t so tipsy, you would have probably felt much more flustered, beneath all the gazes.

With a sigh, you lean back in your chair, and look at your best friend, “fine… eight.”

Eddie gasps, his brown eyes grow so wide that it makes you laugh.

It’s truly a tragedy that you didn’t look at Steve, you would have seen the shocked and the very upset look on his face after that revelation.

“Holy shit!” Robin laughs in surprise, “I-I would’ve never thought! N-Not that it’s a bad thing of course, it’s just, you’re so… reserved!” She turns to look at Steve, also missing the look on his face, “look at you, you both have something in common!”

“Wow,” Jonathan slurs, dragging out the word, “good for you, grumpy.” He holds his drink up at you.

Nancy’s eyebrows are furrowed, her lips pursed as she looks at you in question, “so… are they like… all from Hawkins?”

“Oh no, no…” You shake your head, now catching a glimpse of Steve who stares at you with an unreadable look on his face. “My sister invited me to college parties, and we uh… went out to bars in Indianapolis, it was just one night stands… nothing deep, really.”

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, “I didn’t know you were so wild.”

While everyone seems to be very entertained by your sex life, Steve can’t help but feel irritated by it, despite not knowing any of the details yet.

“How many were from Hawkins?” Nancy asks.

“Just uh… one.”

Despite the bitterness on his tongue, he can’t help but smirk, knowing that he is the one, pride swelling inside of him.

“Do we know him?” Robin asks and Steve nearly chuckles, but then you say something that makes the smirk drop again.

“Um no, I don’t think so… I mean, he went to our school, but was like two years older? He was the captain of the football team.”

Vickie’s eyes widen, but she bites her tongue, while Robin furrows his brows, trying to figure out who it was.

Nancy and Jonathan glance at each other, furrowing their brows.

And, Steve… Oh, Steve is really not having the best time tonight. He knows exactly who you mean, Jacob Leeney.

In his King Steve era, he always considered him his rival.

While he was the captain of the basketball team, Jacob was the captain of the football team, and both of them were on the swim team, competing with each other to steal another number one spot. The girls loved him just as much as they loved Steve, if not more. Unlike him, who brought out the asshole side of himself to woo the girls, Jacob was nice to them, a real ‘sweet’ gentleman who used his plastered kindness to get his latest conquest in his bed.

He can’t believe you were one of his girls.

He can’t believe you fucked this many people in general, let alone Jacob fucking Leeney.

“You fucked Jacob!?” Eddie jumps up, “when!?”

You’re a little confused by the anticipation in his features, like there’s more he wants to ask, like there’s more that he knows.

“Uh… last year?”

“It was you!” He laughs loudly, pointing his ringed finger at you, “Fuck, Jacob. Holy shit, sweetheart, are you that good?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Steve clenches his jaw, glaring daggers at Eddie.

“What?” You chuckle, confused.

“I was outside and he approached me after making me wait for like forty minutes to sell him weed as he had asked, and he just went ‘sorry man, I just had the best head and fuck of my life.’”

Steve feels nausea rising up to his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks from the irritation that grows inside of him. He stares at you, unable to tear his eyes away, and right now, he can’t tell whether he wants to drag you out of here and fuck you in his car to show you that he’s the best you’ve ever had or just leave by himself as the anger inside of him grows and grows.

Pictures of you and Jacob flash in his mind, making him clench his jaw and holding the can tighter, bending it a little.

Did you moan for Jacob the same way you did for him?

Did you cling to his body too?

Did you beg him for more?

“How do you even know it was me, Eddie!?”

“Was it at Caroline’s house?”

“Doesn’t prove it’s me–”

“November 3rd.”

Silence fills the air around you all.

“Oh shit, it was me…”

Nancy giggles at you and at the flustered expression on your face.

“Looks like you got some competition, Steve,�� Robin laughs, slapping her best friend’s shoulder, “we got a fuckboy and a fuckgirl in this round.”

“I’m not a fuckgirl–”

“Sure you’re not, Blondie,” Steve says a little too harshly, “just that you fucked eight guys!”

And he wonders if you’re still doing that, if you’re still fucking others, even now.

The smug look on your face tells him that you do – is that the reason why you didn’t call? Because you had someone else who entertained you when he didn’t?

The thought fills him with anger and he doesn’t even know why.

You can do whatever you want, whoever you want.

He was the one who set up that rule.

If you do fuck others, maybe he should too.

“So?” You shrug at him, smirk tugging at your lips as you finally look at him.

He clenches his jaw, squinting his eyes at you.

You’re a little taken aback by the very obvious anger in his features, and yet, you can’t help but get distracted by how good he looks under the orangey glow of the fire.

“Aw, are you jealous that someone could beat your score?” Argyle laughs, wiggling his brows at Steve.

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin smirks, “how many girls did you fuck?”

You watch him curiously but you already know that no number will surprise you. Steve was or maybe he still is a real fuckboy, maybe not the rough kind, but still.

He clears his throat, looking around awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck, before his eyes settle on you.

“Well, Blondie and I are actually on the same score.”

And here you thought you wouldn’t be surprised, you expected more from him.

Eddie laughs beside you, “are you playing in the same league though? What popular chick did you bang?”

Now that is something you don’t really want to know about. It’s not that you’re not curious about it, you just don’t want to deal with any more insecurities.

But Steve doesn’t bite his tongue, he could look at anyone right now, he could look at Eddie, who had asked him the question in the first place, but instead, he looks right at you.

“Jennifer Mitchell.”

Oh.

You have to bite your lip to stop your jaw from dropping.

You heard all about Jennifer Mitchell, Billy told you everything you… didn’t even want to know. The girl wasn’t exactly popular in school, but she was known… for one or two things.

Steve gives you a smug look, and you can’t even hold back from rolling your eyes at him.

“And the scratch marks?” Eddie asks, smirking. “Was that Heidi?”

You look down, pressing your lips together.

“What scratch marks!?” Robin gasps.

Steve clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair, panic settling in his gut.

Robin knows all about Heidi, and she knows that the girl isn’t capable of rough sex.

Maybe the alcohol in her system and another made up lie of his, will satisfy her though, so he tells her that Heidi changed, that she is now… experimenting. And he relaxes a bit, when she starts asking other questions, ones that aren’t about Heidi.

You don’t sit there and listen for long, not wanting to know the details about his times with other girls. You can’t stand it, so you pick up your empty glass and get up to walk into the house, ‘in need of another drink.’ But you only place the glass on the kitchen counter and stand there for a few minutes, staring at the alcohol bottles.

The jealousy that you feel is nothing new, you felt it countless times before, but it’s so much more intense now, because before last weekend, you never had him.

Now you kind of do, and it’s not a pleasant feeling to hear all about his sex life, to wonder if he’s still seeing others – you’ve been overthinking about it enough this week already.

You hear your friends laughing, and you wonder what else Steve had told them that is so funny.

You roll your eyes and push yourself away from the counter, leaving the kitchen and making your way upstairs and into the direction of the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself.

You turn on the light in the darkened room, but just as you’re about to step inside, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn around to see Steve walking towards you, with a look on his face that you can’t make out, right now.

You tilt your head to the side, plastering a confident smile on your lips, “miss me already?”

He catches you off guard when he places his hands on your waist and pushes you further into the bathroom, he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Beneath the bright lights, you can see his eyes much better, they’re dark as they stare directly into yours. His hair somehow still looks perfect, despite being in the pool all day and constantly running his fingers through it, it looks just as good as always. His nose and his cheekbones are red from being out in the sun, he’s wearing a flannel, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone. You have to swallow harshly when you eye the chest hair and his sun kissed skin that peeks through, you have to tear your eyes away but he looks so… good. You can’t help yourself.

Steve lets go of your waist, he crosses his arms over his chest, his face hardens.

“So eight huh?”

You lift your brows, surprised at his question, you didn’t think that this is what he came here for.

“What’s to it?”

“Am I number eight, Blondie?”

“No,” you smirk, “number nine.”

His jaw clenches a little, he blinks slowly as he glares into your eyes a little.

“What is it, King Steve?” You ask, reaching your hand out, you place your finger on his chest, dragging it down a bit, “afraid I have more experience than you? Cause trust me… that is entirely true.”

He chuckles at you, shaking his head, “you wish.”

“I don’t have to wish,” you shrug, “but do tell, am I your number eight?”

“Nah,” he whispers as his eyes flicker to your hand, to your fingertips that trace the exposed skin beneath his flannel, he gulps, trying not to show how your touch makes him feel, “you’re my number nine too.”

“Uh huh,” you murmur.

You wonder how many girls he had been with after Nancy left him.

You wonder when Jennifer happened, before or after her.

“You know, you kinda flinched a little at the mention of Jennifer,” Steve says with a very amused voice.

“Nope,” you shrug, looking at him innocently, “just surprised you would fuck her, that’s all.”

“Well… she certainly knew what she was doing,” he says, testing the waters to see how you will react.

“And what exactly did she do, Harrington?”

“I’ll keep that to myself.”

The smile on his lips and the prideful look in his eyes sparks your anger, the one that’s been brewing inside of you, all week. Yet somehow, the sadness and your insecurities were stronger than the raging emotion that now takes control of you, alongside the deep jealousy that pushes you to do something that you have been craving all fucking day.

You throw aside all your thoughts, all your worries, and you take the leap.

You place your hands against his chest, watching the way his smile falls as surprise lights up in his hazel eyes. You slam him against the wall next to the door that he just locked, you grab his face and pull him down, smashing your lips against his.

Steve gasps against your lips, and you can’t help but feel excitement rushing through you. He melts against you so quickly, and so easily. He cups your cheeks and kisses back just as roughly.

No matter how fast his lips move against yours, he isn’t the one in control today, and he knows it, he can feel it… and to his surprise, he doesn’t mind it.

You press your tongue against his bottom lip, and he wastes no second to let you slip it into his mouth. He presses his palm against your cheek, moaning when you deepen the kiss further.

You get lost in it, just the way you did the first time and the second time. You get so lost in his kiss that nothing around you matters anymore – not your friends who could come looking for you both any minute, not your jealousy that makes you seethe, not the fact that he isn’t yours. Nothing matters, only he does.

He keeps moaning against your lips and as you press your chest against his and you feel him against your stomach, you can’t help but moan too.

It takes everything in you not to drop to your knees and use your mouth to worship him, just the way you had always wanted to.

Not yet, you tell yourself.

You throw your arms around his neck and let your fingers get lost in his hair, tugging at it as you keep your hands busy, so you don’t give into your lust and slide your palm down his stomach and into his pants.

You can feel that he tries to take control but you don’t let him and the moment you press your thigh between his legs, he’s done for, he stops trying to fight for dominance. A whimper falls from his lips as they stop moving against yours for a moment, stunned by your little move.

His hands fall from your face down to your waist, holding onto it tightly as you kiss him like it’s the last thing you will ever do.

Steve’s heart is racing in his chest, out of pure shock, his stomach fluttering and his dick twitching in his pants – he needs you, he wants you so bad. He is starting to grow breathless, but he doesn’t want this moment to end, not yet. It’s been bad enough waiting for your call all week, he had to use his hand more times than he could count as his mind kept taking him back to you.

Now you’re here, right in front of him, and you clearly still want him just as much as he wants you. And your lips, your lips taste so good, a hint of strawberry from the balm you always carry around the cocktails that you’ve been drinking all day.

The roughness of the kiss, the intensity and your touches show him that there is a side to you that he hasn’t had the pleasure of getting to know just yet, but he wants it, so so bad.

You tug at his hair, tilting his head back a little as your tongue keeps moving against his and the kiss somehow grows deeper and hungrier, moans falling from your lips, echoing through the room with his.

Neither of you care about the possible consequences.

Steve nearly busts in his pants when you press your stomach against his aching dick. You let your left hand roam his shoulder, his chest and his stomach, your fingertips start inching closer and closer to where he needs you the most.

But just as he’s about to break the kiss to start begging for you to touch him, you roughly pull away and take a step back from him, leaving him without the warmth you just provided him with.

He almost whines at the loss of your touch.

Now the room is filled with panting and loud breathing besides the deafening silence.

You bite your lip, tasting the beer and the mint that his lips have left behind. Your knees nearly buckle as you take in the sight of him.

Flushed cheeks, messy hair and puffy lips, along with the big eyes that are filled with nothing but desperation and lust.

Despite the fluttering in your heart, as you stare at the man before you, you can’t help but smirk.

Who would’ve thought you could turn him into that?

That you could leave him desperate and panting for more.

You take a step forward again, watching the way his curious eyes follow every of your movement, lips parting as he slightly leans down, thinking that you will kiss him again.

And you do, just not the way he wanted you to.

You press your lips to his cheek, giving it a soft and teasing kiss before you lean closer to his ear.

“I’ll wait for you at my house later.”

And with that, you step away from him, you unlock the door and open it, throwing another glance over your shoulder at a very flustered Steve – a look that leaves you swelling with pride and a glimpse of hope.

You can feel the way he reacts to your touches, you can see how red his cheeks can glow for you, how lust filled his eyes can get – something that never even happened in the past, not even once but now here you both are.

You doubt that he could ever feel more for you than this.

And yet, you would wait for years.

You would wait forever.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @taintedcigs @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @agirlwholovesrockstars

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

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amimuu · 3 months

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VTA AU NARI + LAMB DESIGNS! (+ DOODLE DUMP!!!)

Ppl who were interested in the auuu pspspsppspspsps (Is this au like my official introduction to the cotl fandom?)

Golly, I think in the end I am gonna keep the name- Suhddhjejfjejd

By the way! The lamb wore something different before they gave the crown away :> maybe I’ll eventually post that one too

Smoll Doodle dump under the cut :]

Vows to ash au: In which Narinder decides to bring a definitely not complaint lamb back to life after they were sacrificed a second time to help him deal with his siblings apparently not being dead dead + cult duties + he missed them terribly and the crown is slowly driving him insane. However, things don’t go as planned for the god of death since a certain someone didn’t exactly want to be alive again and in fact, would much prefer to go back to being dead, thank you. Chaos, angst and a ridiculous amount of miscommunication ensure!

What will happen? Will they get along enough to deal with this mess? Also what’s up with whole “The crown is as much of a blessing as it is a curse�� thing?

All of that shall wait for now- cuz woe side characters be upon ye

Boy the birdie was so hard to draw

ANYWAYS!! These three are kids (not really kids anymore) that were born in the cult and almost raised entirely by the lamb (Dipal was entirely raised by them), reason why they are very very loyal to them. They were also turned into disciples some time before the lamb gave the crown back. They are very close with each other and the Lamb trusts them a lot. (These three are actually my in-game disciples who were born and raised in the cult almost entirely by the lamb)

WELP! That’s all for now. More doodles coming soon tho. As always, any questions are welcome (and encouraged, I like talking!) Hopefully I’ll be able to post some lore dumps or things of the such. Until theeeeeen!

#cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl oc #technically #narilamb #vows to ash au #yeah the name is fine actually #colt au #I can finally begin throwing this doodles at you since the introduction comic did so well WOO HEE #boy there’s so much I want to tell about this #BUTT AHHHHH eventually #the disciples are kind of like my kids #if something happens to any of them I’ll cry

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aveloka-draws · 8 days

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This has probably already been answered, but is there a noticeable change in how the Lamb runs the cult from before the defeat of Narinder?

Are they noticably harsher? Is it about the same? Or are they even more forgiving due to overcompensating for their increasingly feral nature?

More details the better! Ah need muh juicy lore!

About the same, Lamb still praises the name of The One Who Waits when preaching even though the devotion all goes to themselves. Since ascending they can get a little "high" on collected faith, so followers see them in a pretty good mood often.

The camp grounds expand as they continue to welcome more outsiders even to the point not everyone has to attend the temple everyday, sacrifial rituals are performed only with the help of those of high faith and the disciples.

Dissenters get a couple of chances to be redeemed, but sometimes if Lamb catches one hurting another follower they'll get rid of dissenters as soon as night falls.

#ask a bird #ichor's vessel au

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sarahsartistportfolio · 9 months

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Some MORE sagau since my last post did some numbers and its given me confidence which feels nice.😌

This is completely self indulgence. And because it is the "you" referred to here is female. Slight yandere vibes but my intention was not cult au.

Albedo is the first to notice the unusual amount of shooting stars in the sky. There's never been this many meteorites in such a short span of time. Especially in Mondstadt. As Albedo observes another cluster of stars through his telescope, he notices this time the stars aren't all a bright white but of many different colors. Purple, gold, green and blue. Albedo notes how the sky melts and bends into these different colors too. Its all so strange but fascinating to him. He keeps his eye on the horizon, takes notes, but holds onto hope none of this spills any bad news.

Its Venti who catches you falling from the sky. Of course its him. It has to be him, at least he tells himself this. Its Venti who lays your head in his lap as anxiety and confusion reflects on his face. He gently runs his fingers over your forehead, brushing your hair out of the way. Only to see the sallow cut on your head leaking glittering golden blood. His hand flinches back as he thinks "They've arrived." He delicately holds you in his arms, as his thoughts race through taking you to the seven, which he assumed is the safest option. When you open your eyes. Your brain is fuzzy and your eyes are heavy but you can still make out Venti's visage. "Venti?" Your horse and rough voice manages, but you speak his name in more so disbelief. You let this stranger hold you as your arms are far too weak to push him away. And its Venti whose heart races as he realizes hes the first person you see. The first name you ever speak in Teyvat. His grip tightens as he swears to himself to keep you safe, to watch over you until your full power returns. "You...you really smell like apples." You smile weakly at him, body leaning into his embrace, closing your eyes enjoying the warmth he radiates. "You really do smell like apples." you repeat and Venti. is. beaming.

Venti becomes your comfort in this new world you've been thrust into. You find yourself hiding behind him when you're introduced to new people, holding his hand whenever you're anxious. Venti becomes quite proud that you seek out his presence so much. When you do start to become more brave, venturing out of Mondstadt, spending more time with Zhongli, Ei and Nahida. Venti finds himself becoming uncharacteristically jealous. His grip on you is never tight but it shows through his "You'll leaving already?" and "There's no reason to travel to Liyue/Inazuma/Sumeru ect you can do that here in Mondstadt." He treasures wearing the title of your first and closest friend and doesn't want anyone to replace him. And as you sit with him in the tavern again, making sure he fulfills his promise of writing a song for you, he finds himself getting terribly distracted by your eyes. Hoping he could become more than your dearest friend.

Venti's worship is friendly, playful, almost suffocating but in a good way.

Its Zhongli who becomes your second shadow. As soon as the overexcited bard announces your arrival to the present archons his heart skips a beat. Century after century he has heard stories of your power, your beauty, your grace. And some how he has lived long enough to see you in the flesh. His heart is racing as he waits for you to enter the room. And when you do, your hand in Venti's as he cheerfully introduces you to the geo archon. Zhongli's eyes widen for just a split second before he calmly attempts to regain his composure. He bows low, elegantly, although his knees threaten to give way. "Welcome back your grace." Your presence is otherworldly, ethereal. Your eyes bleed into the ever changing colors of the sky. And while maybe for a short time in the beginning Zhongli questioned himself, why you would return in such a small weak form. But that thought quickly left him, the longer he heard the unwavering kindness in your voice and the warmth of your smile. He was convinced he saw celestia its self within you.

Any and every time you step into Liyue, Zhongli is by your side. Even when your not in his country Zhongli still makes his presence known. Ever so observant and thoughtful. Helps you learn the names of people and places. Patiently tells you stories of the past over a hot cup of tea. Ever so patient Zhongli. When you playfully, nervously, confess you're a little intimidated by him. He waits. As long as you need. For you to initiate conversation, for you to stand closer to him, for you hold his arm as you take a walk through the city. And even as you continue to favor that childish drunken bard, Zhongli knows you would choose him. Maybe not today, but he will keep trying. Patiently demonstrating the upmost consideration so when the time comes for you to choose a spouse you will choose him. Zhongli convinces himself that out of the seven its him who deserves to be by your side. The patiently, gentleman Zhongli, will capture your heart, because who else deserves to spend eternity by your side.

Zhongli's worship is attentive, respectful, quietly fiercely loyal.

When Childe overhears the other fatui members whispering "There are rumors the god of Teyvat has arrived in Mondstadt. Taking on the form of a beautiful young woman." he stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening. He stops the informant demanding more details. Its Childe who has to show the most restraint in his entire life when the you agree to meet with the fatui harbingers. Your expression cold as you greet each member, your voice curt and short not entertaining a longer conversation. Childe has to fight back a grin when he first sees you and hears your voice. The sound immediately familiar to him. His heart racing, fingers twitch to touch you, hold you, to thank you over and over again. When your eyes finally land on him your expression quickly changes. You smile brightly, "Childe" you call his name is such an affection manner it makes his knees weak. The sweet sound throwing his mind back to when your warmth surrounded him in that dark pit. He finds himself dropping to knees before he even thinks, his head low and gaze to the floor to hide the tears threatening to slip. "The Fatui await your every command your grace."

Childe becomes your friend, easily, naturally. Even if you can not remember comforting him in the abyss. The other harbingers are completely dumbfounded why out of all of them you choose to spend all your time with Childe. And Childe is so prideful about it. He becomes infatuated with you. Learns every little thing about you. Falls in love with you. His world seems lighter, brighter whenever he speaks with you. He becomes addicted to your laughter. Wants it all to himself. Starts to imagine what it be like to be yours, your only. And when you return his feelings, he's elated. And Childe doesn't believe he'll ever let you go, he cant, not when he finally has you in the flesh. No he can't see his life without you in it and he'll keep it that way. No matter what or who threatens his happiness.

Childe's worship is possessive, selfish, brazen, bloodthirsty and warm like a fire comforting you on a cold winter's night.

One more below!

SIKE but no keep reading please

I'm currently in the middle of making some genshin related art and if that interests you maybe you can take a look at my instagram 👉👈

I'm also going write a NSFW sagau piece next. Which will include Xiao(and Venti again, really suddenly have fallen hard for him)🥰 this is my first time dipping my toes into writing characters that are not OCs so I'm trying🙇‍♀️

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #my writing #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact venti #genshin impact albedo #sagau genshin #self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #female reader #genshin impact x you #fem reader #self aware genshin au #self aware genshin impact #sagau #sagau x reader

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair.

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life.

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?”

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?”

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room.

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away.

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth.

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side.

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class.

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed.

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora.

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her.

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.”

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride.

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it.

Now was not the time to slack.

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior.

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self.

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed.

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought.

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date.

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture.

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart.

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.”

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over.

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop.

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin.

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.”

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air.

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again.

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running.

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.”

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.”

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over.

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin.

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology.

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?”

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.”

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve.

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim.

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens.

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger.

It was raw shame.

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight.

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